Muscular bodies dripping with sweat are all over cinema screens – and each other. But these films are very different from the sports romances of old

This spring is shaping up to be the season of the artful athletic romance in cinema. Rose Glass’s Love Lies Bleeding and Luca Guadagnino’s Challengers both offer up their own twisted queer romances set within the world of sport. Both film-makers share a preoccupation with their athletes, lingering over their bodies in ultra-closeup. Muscles ripple and swell like the powerful pulse of the tide. Perfect, glistening orbs of sweat form then drift off the body in slow motion. In these films, ripped, toned bodies become tantalising, treacherous landscapes, and it’s on this physical terrain that we can see exactly how and why the characters’ internal desires play out.

Love Lies Bleeding opens with a pulsating montage in a grimy gym as Glass confronts us with running, cycling, lifting, pressing bodies in all of their sweating, straining vulgarity. Meanwhile, Lou (Kristen Stewart), the uninspired gym manager, is sticking her hand down the venue’s perpetually clogged toilet. However, when Jackie (Katy O’Brian), a wannabe bodybuilder, rolls through town, all this grotesquery becomes a thing of beauty. They begin a romance. Lou pumps her lover full of steroids and constantly ogles her dense muscles.

From James Baldwin to Sarah Waters, writers have been telling rich, nuanced LGBTQ+ tales for decades – here are some good titles to try

Cinema listings seem to be stacked with films about queer relationships at the moment. From the eerie yet tender romance in All of Us Strangers to the electric sapphic fling in the forthcoming Love Lies Bleeding, these new offerings feel refreshingly nuanced, placing LGBTQ+ characters centre stage without pandering to reductive narratives or heteronormative taste.

If you want to find such stories in your reading, too, why not try some of the following books? Whether you’re looking for accounts of seedy sexual awakenings or reflections on tormented love affairs, here are five of the best.

Fighting With Pride charity will lead work for memorial at National Memorial Arboretum in Staffordshire

The UK’s first memorial commemorating the “lost legion” of LGBT people who have served in the armed forces is to be built at the National Memorial Arboretum.

The memorial will be built after a charity spearheading efforts to get justice for veterans affected by the pre-2000 ban on LGBT people serving in the UK armed forces was awarded a £350,000 grant.

Rights chief also warns Britain will be ‘judged harshly by history for its failure to help prevent civilian slaughter in Gaza’

The UK has been accused by Amnesty International of “deliberately destabilising” human rights on the global stage for its own political ends.

In its annual global report, released today, the organisation said Britain was weakening human rights protections nationally and globally, amid a near-breakdown of international law.

Drag star celebrated with massive support at home after taking top prize in the long-running US reality show

A drag queen has sparked national celebration as the “pride of Taiwan” and won praise and congratulations from the island’s president after winning RuPaul’s Drag Race at the weekend.

On Saturday, the long-running, Emmy award-winning US reality show, in which drag queens compete in challenges including lip-sync performances, revealed the winner of its 16th season as Nymphia Wind, the drag personality creation of Leo Tsao, a 28-year-old Taiwanese designer.

High court action will claim US owner allowed access to app users’ private information in breach of UK law

Grindr faces the prospect of legal action by hundreds of users who will allege that the dating app shared highly sensitive personal information, including in some cases their HIV status, with advertising companies.

The law firm Austen Hays is to file a claim on Monday in London’s high court alleging that the US owner of the app breached British data protection laws.

Stone Nest, London
Dante or Die’s intriguing but underdeveloped story is based on the case of two men, each convicted of a homophobic murder, who became the first same-sex couple to marry in a UK prison

Basing a play on real events offers a safety blanket of authenticity, but the facts of a story being true is not always enough to make us believe in them. Dante or Die’s new production about a homophobic gay man in prison is packed with energy and built on significant research, but the storytelling skates over the surface of the knotty topics it tackles, and struggles to make its complex characters come alive.

Kiss Marry Kill tells the story of Jay (Dauda Ladejobi), imprisoned for life for murdering a man he started hooking up with, out of fear his friends would find out. To the clang of prison beds being stacked together, and the rapping of Lady Lykez, Jay hastily forgets his pregnant fiancee at home and embarks on a relationship with charming fellow murderer Paul (Graham Mackay-Bruce). Inspired by events that are stranger than fiction, the show draws on the story of Mikhail Gallatinov and Marc Goodwin, both convicted for murdering gay men, who became the first same-sex couple to marry in prison.

He only published one book – and it was hardly noticed. Now his portraits of drag queens, poets and artists are seen as vital documents of a vanished world. As they go on show, the photographer’s favourite subjects recall his genius

‘He made me wear white,” says Fran Lebowitz, down the phone from New York. The writer is talking about the day her close friend, the photographer Peter Hujar, shot her for Portraits in Life and Death, the only book he ever made. “Peter was very specific. It was in my apartment which was the size of, I don’t know, a book. And the light was a big thing – as it was with all photographers, back when they were actually photographers.”

This week, the picture of a 24-year-old Lebowitz smoking a cigarette, slightly slumped, in a white shirt and tight white trousers on the arm of a settee, goes on show at the Venice biennale, alongside the 40 other pictures from Portraits in Life and Death. Twenty-nine of them depict artists, writers and performers Hujar knew and admired from the downtown scene of 1970s New York – many of them reclining in a state of reverie that seems completely un-posed. There’s the writer Susan Sontag, supine on a bed with a pensive expression; the drag artist and underground film star Divine off duty and resting on some cushions; nightclub dancer TC, topless and drowsily seductive; poet and dance critic Edwin Denby with his eyes meditatively closed, his wrinkles mirroring the rumpled duvet behind him.

When Victoria Villegas learned how her cousin had fled the Dominican Republic, and was gay like her, she was moved to chart his life

There have been experimental, freestyling essay films and memoiristic documentaries around for years, going back to Chris Marker’s Sans Soleil or Agnès Varda’s The Gleaners and I. But just lately it feels like the sprawling poetic-realist subgenre is flourishing, especially in the sunny uplands of film festivals. Like an extension of the creative-writing exhortation to “write about what you know” young documentary-makers are increasingly shooting movies about not just who they are but also their family history. Sometimes family members are even corralled into play themselves or others, like some cinematic family drama-therapy experiment.

If you want a few recent examples, check out Miryam Charles’s recent Cette Maison, or Moroccan director Asmae el Moudir’s The Mother of All Lies, both of which recreate traumas from the directors’ family histories. Now add to that list this one, directed by Victoria Linares Villegas, a young Dominican film-maker who found out that her second cousin was Oscar Torres, a significant if now obscure film-maker who left the Dominican Republic not long after the military dictator Rafael Trujillo came to power in the 1930s, and then fled to Cuba to make leftist films celebrating the common man. Torres was also a film critic for a time, championing neo-realists such as Vittorio De Sica. Villegas sets to find and understand Oscar’s work, but also his more personal story – and about halfway through it emerges that he was bisexual, which resonates with Villegas, herself a lesbian.

In 1999, the Admiral Duncan pub in Soho was attacked in a campaign of violence by a self-confessed racist and homophobe. It completely changed the course of my life

On Saturday 17 April 1999, a bomb exploded in Brixton market in south London, injuring 48 people, including a 23-month-old child. Newspapers showed an X-ray of the toddler’s head with a nail embedded in the skull. Immediately, people knew that someone wanted to kill in an area that had a large Black community.

This was the first of three nailbombs that were planted in the capital targeting minorities. The following weekend, a second bomb exploded in the Bangladeshi area of Brick Lane. Thirteen people were injured; it might have been more if a passerby hadn’t spotted a suspicious bag and put it in the boot of his car, dampening the blast.