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There’s a certain hokey image of lesbians, one that prevailed in decades past but still seeps its way into contemporary culture. This somewhat stereotypical perception sees lesbians as highly emotional women who have long, serious discussions and militant ideas about feminism and sexuality. They take women’s studies classes and listen to singer-songwriters like k.d. lang. 

If this stereotype offends you (maybe you should look into that), you probably won’t like Nicole Conn’s 1992 film Claire of the Moon, which embodies this very 1990s image in every frame. Younger viewers may know Conn for her 2010s films, namely Elena Undone and A Perfect Ending, both of which are generally understood to be, uh, pretty bad! (I would categorize them as bad-but-bad rather than bad-but-good.) Conn’s first movie, Claire of the Moon, is a very different kind of picture, and it has a certain intrigue that her contemporary films do not. Part of this is due to its decisively ‘90s style, which is always delightful to behold for those of us not around to experience the era firsthand, but there’s also something compelling about how Conn upholds the aforementioned image in such a forthright manner. 

Claire of the Moon follows a classic lesbian movie plot. Set at a writers’ retreat in coastal Oregon, the film follows Claire (Trisha Todd, blonde) a famous writer forced to share a cabin with Noel (Karen Trumbo, brunette), a lesbian sex therapist. Claire is presumably straight and lives life by the seat of her pants, while Noel is uptight and annoyed by Claire’s free-wheeling antics. You get where this is going. 

Claire and Noel consistently get on each other’s nerves and their writing habits are totally incompatible. Claire starts to purposefully do things to bother Noel, including at one point taking off her shirt in the middle of the kitchen. (Is that how you annoy lesbians?) Claire begins to question her sexuality, a turn of events symbolized by the moment when she walks into Noel’s room, sees a painting of a naked woman on her wall, and, get this, cups the woman’s boob with her hand. After this, Claire and Noel thaw the ice by sharing their respective traumas in a long emotional processing session. (Noel realized she was gay when she fell in love with a patient, Claire had an abusive father.)

Most of the film consists of long speeches and debates about gender, sexuality, and human nature. During one debate, Noel argues that men and women can never have true intimacy because they don’t speak the same language. True intimacy is only reserved for lesbians, apparently. Later, Noel and Claire have a very frank discussion about butches and femmes, penis envy, and dildos, as lesbians do. (Noel is almost always very frank and has no sense of humor.) As in most lesbian movies from the 1990s, bisexuality is either ignored or scorned. In fact, Noel at one point tells Claire she “never get[s] involved with women who straddle both sides of the fence.”

The entire film builds up to a sexual encounter between the two characters, and you have to wait until the last three minutes for the climax, so to speak. You think it’s going to happen when the women are drinking tequila and describing their sexual fantasies (Noel’s is anonymous bathroom sex, Claire’s is putting her hand on a man’s thigh, or something), but it’s a false alarm. 

The next day, Claire starts dolefully playing the piano because she’s so sexually frustrated – this happens several times throughout the film – and Noel comes up behind her and asks her to play Clair de Lune. This devastates Claire for some reason, so she runs down to the beach and sinks into the ocean. Noel follows her down to the beach and they cry in front of a big rock before sharing their first kiss. (Weirdly, this scene is very similar to the first kiss in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, but like, less beautiful.) 

Finally, finally they have sex, and it’s exactly the kind of scene you would expect from this movie. Lots of rolling around, perfectly placed white sheets, sensual face-touching, and romantic piano music. The final shot of the film is their hands clasped at the head of the bed. The questions that have been plaguing Noel and Claire for the entire film have been answered. Despite their many differences, they are able to achieve true intimacy through the pleasure of the flesh. Lesbian sex is the solution.

It wouldn’t be unfair to say that the film feels a little bit like a parody of a women’s studies seminar, or at least something that would have been discussed in a women’s studies seminar 20 years ago. The film is mostly one big ideological discussion, with a little bit of lesbian sex thrown in at the end. But you’ve got to give Conn credit where credit is due – she wasn’t afraid to go all in with this lesbian tale, which is as persuasive as it is unsubtle. Indeed, taking the film at face value, it accomplishes its goal, which is to tell a story of one woman’s journey into lesbianism (or bisexuality, as it were) from a primarily philosophical standpoint. 

Reviews of the film at the time were mixed. Kevin Thomas in The LA Times had positive things to say, concluding that “Despite awkward moments, “Claire of the Moon” winds up the best American-made lesbian drama since ‘Desert Hearts.’” Janet Maslin in The New York Times called the dialogue “ponderous,” while The Austin Chronicle’s Marjorie Baumgarten also compared the film to Desert Hearts but noted it deserves praise for what it tries to accomplish. Roger Ebert’s review of Claire of the Moon is essentially one long, sick burn, as he refers to the film as “painfully serious” and knocks its many “earnest speeches.” 

The most interesting take on the film comes from Conn herself. In a 2002 interview, Conn notes that while the film did well in San Fransisco and New York City, viewers more familiar with “art house and experimental films” did not appreciate Claire. Specifically, lesbian critics didn’t respond the way Conn had hoped. “I always said that "Claire" was a social phenomenon in the sense that it divided and explored the vast differences between the political dyke and Jane Q. Lesbo,” Conn explained. 

To be honest, I’m not entirely certain how Conn defines a “Jane Q. Lesbo.” Using context clues here, I’m going to assume it refers to a lesbian who is more concerned with the domestic, interpersonal aspects of lesbianism than the political ones. It makes sense then, that Claire of the Moon would divide these two “types” of lesbians. Though quite wordy, the film never really gets into politics, and the broader implications of their discussions don’t resonate outside of their small enclave. Sure, the personal is the political and all, but the film largely forecloses the latter. 

It’s hard to say if this divide between the political dyke and the Jane Q. Lesbo still exists today, especially because I don’t have Conn here with me to explain her terms. But what is still relevant is this discussion about the social and political aspirations – or responsibilities – of art. In this case, I don’t think it’s fair to discount Claire of the Moon outright. It depicts a lesbian perspective (as well as a lesbian aesthetic) that may or may not speak to the modern viewer. Conn’s film preserves that image of the sensuous, intellectual lesbian, whether you like it or not.