Rob Munday
As someone in a long-term relationship who isn’t married, I’m always intrigued by the reactions that occur whenever I refer to my significant other as “my partner” – a situation referenced at the start of Nick Beardslee’s latest short, Queer Blue Sky. Discussing their impending separation, Beth and Chris decide they “don’t always have to do everything in such a straight way,” choosing instead to break up in what they describe as a “queer way.” It’s a premise that immediately sounds absurd, but one which Beardslee uses to launch a sharply observed comedy filled with uncomfortable humour and pointed social commentary.
“Do you really want to be one of those couples that just falls in love and gets married and spends the rest of their life together and that’s it?”
From there, Queer Blue Sky follows the pair as they awkwardly attempt to redefine both themselves and their “relationship” through a series of increasingly uncomfortable situations. Whether it’s painfully stilted dates (“I don’t really feel like I need to f*ck”) or deeply awkward sexual encounters (“I’m supposed to peg you”), the comedy comes less from punchlines and more from watching two people desperately trying to adhere to a label they obviously don’t really understand. While it’s often painfully cringeworthy to watch, Queer Blue Sky lands its impact through its exploration of the performative expectations surrounding modern relationships – and modern ideas of identity. Beneath the humour lies a very recognisable anxiety about wanting to appear emotionally evolved, progressive, or simply different.
That tension is ultimately what lingers long after the film ends. As Beardslee explains, “I’m fascinated by the fetishization of queerness I sometimes see among straight people,” adding that he wanted to push this “desire to be different to an absurd degree.” By focusing on a couple who “cling to labels so intensely they start to lose their meaning,” Queer Blue Sky becomes about far more than one failing relationship. Instead, the film quietly critiques the way identity itself can become romanticised, reducing the very real lives of people into something fashionable. What makes this short particularly effective, however, is that it never loses its sense of humour while exploring these ideas. We laugh at Beth and Chris throughout, but the discomfort the film creates feels entirely intentional. To steal a line from the short itself, I totally “appreciate the honesty”.