Invited by the conductor Premil Petrovic to stage Arnold Schoenberg’s Pierrot Lunaire, a musical theater work from 1912 based on the poems of Albert Giraud, LaBruce transposed a strange and tragic episode of true crime onto the composition. Complementing the original atonal score is a narrative about a trans man who is outed by his girlfriend’s father and forbidden from seeing the young woman again. Crestfallen, the protagonist decides to prove the fact of his manhood by castrating a taxi driver and then revealing his newly transplanted member to the two of them. This story, which for LaBruce “serves as a kind of allegory for all gender radicals and outcasts driven to extremes by the disapproval and hostility of the dominant order,” is rendered in a visual style that nods to the era of Schoenberg’s melodrama. LaBruce cheekily appropriates the formal vocabulary of silent cinema with black-and-white photography, irises, and intertitles like “A cock, a cock, my kingdom for a cock!”

An enigmatic, fluid actor embodies a mythical figure tied to Virgil's egg, blurring reality and fiction as he recreates a film about his own life, an homage to Patroni Griffi's Il Mare. Through encounters, passions, and visions evoking ancient cults and legends, the work becomes a sensual, unsettling tribute to Naples and its magical-literary heritage.

Two celebrities (Gaspar Noe and Harmony Korine) meet for the first time to spend an evening in each others and the camera’s company.

A previously unreleased provocation from queer cinema’s outrageous auteur Bruce LaBruce

If there's one man who changed the course of queer men's fantasies forever, it's erotic illustrator Tom of Finland. In partnership with Tom of Finland, and with the help of some of today's best artists and directors, Men.com has brought Tom's most iconic sexual visions to life.