In an era where LGBTQ+ stories are increasingly diverse, Straight emerges as a quietly devastating indie drama that explores internalized homophobia, denial, and the slow unraveling of a double life. Directed by newcomer Julian Price, Straight stars Lucas Hedges as Mark, a seemingly confident, successful 28-year-old man living a textbook heterosexual life—with a corporate job, a girlfriend, and weekend brunches in a trendy city neighborhood.
But beneath the surface, Mark is haunted by the truth he refuses to acknowledge: he’s not straight. The film begins in quiet restraint—conversations about marriage, subtle flinches during physical affection, anxious glances at strangers on the subway. When Mark reconnects with Alex (played by Justice Smith), an openly gay college friend visiting town, buried emotions begin to surface. Their conversations are tentative, filled with silences more powerful than words. A casual night out turns into something more intimate—and more dangerous to the tightly wound world Mark has built.
Unlike many queer films that celebrate coming out or self-acceptance, Straight lingers in the space between the closet and freedom. It’s not about discovering sexuality—it’s about refusing it, and the emotional damage that refusal causes, not just to the person hiding, but to those who love them.
The film is beautifully shot, often using reflections, closed spaces, and muted lighting to mirror Mark’s state of mind. The score is subtle but aching. Director Julian Price favors long, still takes—watching Mark sit alone in his apartment, trying to breathe through a panic attack or rehearse coming out to no one but the mirror.
The performances are layered and deeply human. Lucas Hedges carries the film with heartbreaking restraint, while Justice Smith gives warmth and grace to Alex, a character who’s both a catalyst and a mirror. The supporting cast includes Zazie Beetz as Rachel, Mark’s girlfriend, whose growing confusion and pain adds another layer to the emotional stakes.
In a speculative follow-up titled Straight: The Space Between, we rejoin Mark five years later. He’s now out—but not free. Living alone and estranged from family, he’s quietly rebuilding. The sequel focuses on his attempt to reconnect with Rachel, now married with a child, and Alex, who has moved on but still bears emotional scars.
The sequel wouldn't be about romance, but reparation—how we face the people we hurt, and how we learn to love without shame. Mark mentors a closeted teenager, leading to moments of reflection, guilt, and healing. The themes shift from self-denial to self-forgiveness.
In the end, Mark stands at a Pride parade—not holding a boyfriend’s hand, but simply existing, finally, in the open.
Straight is not a feel-good film. It’s a feel-real film. It’s about the silence between words, the tension behind smiles, and the pain of living a life edited for approval. For anyone who has ever lived a version of themselves for someone else, Straight strikes a chord that’s hard to ignore—and even harder to forget.
