What Movies Accurately Portray Bisexuality?

Romance novels that explore bisexual relationships and have been adapted into movies are a fantastic way to see diverse love stories come to life on screen. One standout is 'Call Me by Your Name' by André Aciman, which was adapted into a critically acclaimed film. The novel delves into the intense summer romance between Elio, a seventeen-year-old, and Oliver, an older graduate student. The story captures the raw emotions of first love, self-discovery, and the complexities of desire. The movie adaptation beautifully translates the novel's lush prose into stunning visuals, with Timothée Chalamet and Armie Hammer delivering unforgettable performances. The narrative doesn’t label its characters explicitly, but the fluidity of their attraction is a central theme, making it a poignant representation of bisexual romance. Another notable work is 'The Color Purple' by Alice Walker, which explores the life of Celie and her relationships with both men and women. While the novel and its film adaptation focus heavily on Celie’s emotional and romantic connection with Shug Avery, the story is a powerful exploration of love, identity, and resilience. The 1985 film, directed by Steven Spielberg, and the more recent 2023 musical adaptation, highlight the depth of these relationships, though the latter delves more explicitly into the romantic aspects. The novel’s portrayal of bisexuality is subtle but profound, reflecting the complexities of Celie’s journey. For a lighter, contemporary take, 'Red, White & Royal Blue' by Casey McQuiston is a delightful bisexual romance novel that’s set to be adapted into a film. The story follows Alex Claremont-Diaz, the First Son of the United States, and his tumultuous relationship with Prince Henry of Wales. Their romance is fiery, witty, and full of heart, with the novel celebrating bisexuality openly and joyfully. The upcoming adaptation has generated significant buzz, and fans are eager to see how the chemistry between the characters translates to the screen. The novel’s blend of political drama and romance offers a fresh perspective on love in the public eye. Lastly, 'Maurice' by E.M. Forster is a classic novel that explores a bisexual man’s journey of self-acceptance in early 20th-century England. The 1987 film adaptation, directed by James Ivory, stays true to the novel’s themes of forbidden love and societal expectations. Maurice’s relationships with both Clive and Alec are portrayed with tenderness and realism, capturing the challenges of living authentically in a repressive era. The film’s lush cinematography and heartfelt performances make it a timeless exploration of love and identity. These novels and their adaptations offer rich, varied portrayals of bisexual romance, each with its own unique flavor and emotional depth.

One of the most nuanced portrayals of bisexuality I've come across is in 'The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo' by Taylor Jenkins Reid. The protagonist's fluid sexuality isn't just a plot device—it's woven into her complex relationships and personal growth throughout decades. What struck me was how the narrative avoids labeling until Evelyn herself grapples with identity, mirroring the real-life ambiguity many bisexual people experience. The book's glamorous Hollywood setting contrasts beautifully with raw emotional honesty about loving beyond gender. Another standout is 'Leah on the Offbeat' by Becky Albertalli, which captures bisexual awakening during adolescence with tenderness and humor. The protagonist's internal monologue about 'not being gay enough' for queer spaces while also feeling alienated from straight ones resonated deeply with me. Albertalli nails that specific bisexual experience of constantly questioning whether you 'count'—something rarely addressed in coming-of-age stories. The casual normalization of bi identity in her friend group gives hope for younger generations.

Finding stories where bi characters aren't just ticking a box but actually feel like real people navigating messy lives has been a bit of a mission for me. 'The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo' gets mentioned a lot, and for good reason—Monique's perspective feels so grounded, and Evelyn's journey across decades is less about a big 'coming out' moment and more about how her desires and public persona constantly rub against each other. It’s the kind of book where the character’s sexuality is a part of her, but not the whole plot. For something grittier, 'The Weight of the Stars' by K. Ancrum has this quiet, aching authenticity. The relationships, both romantic and platonic, are all threaded with a sense of longing and isolation that really resonated with my own younger years. The bi rep isn't loud; it's just there, woven into the character's decisions and heartbreaks in a way that feels earned, not announced. I’d also toss in 'I Wish You All the Best' by Mason Deaver. It’s technically about a nonbinary protagonist coming out to their parents, but Ben’s attraction to multiple genders is handled with such a gentle, nervous realism that it perfectly captures that specific bi+ experience of figuring things out without a clear roadmap.

Bisexuality in modern TV has come a long way from the days of token side characters or messy stereotypes. Shows like 'Brooklyn Nine-Nine' and 'The Owl House' handle it with refreshing nuance—Captain Holt’s deadpan humor about his husband never undermines his identity, while Luz’s crush on Amity feels organic, not performative. But there’s still this weird trend where bi characters are either portrayed as indecisive ('Grey’s Anatomy' early seasons) or hypersexualized ('True Blood'). What I love lately is how 'Heartstopper' sidesteps that entirely—Nick’s coming-out arc is all about quiet self-discovery, not drama. That said, TV still struggles with bi erasure (cough 'Schitt’s Creek' avoiding the word despite David’s pan vibes). Animated series oddly lead here—'Steven Universe' and 'She-Ra' normalize queer relationships without making orientation the whole plot. Live-action could take notes: give us more bi leads whose storylines aren’t just about coming out, like 'The Bisexual' (ironically canceled too soon). The progress is real, but I’m waiting for that one mainstream show where a character casually mentions dating multiple genders without it being A Very Special Episode.

One of the first shows that comes to mind is 'Brooklyn Nine-Nine,' where Rosa Diaz’s bisexuality is handled with such refreshing normalcy. It’s not a plot twist or a dramatic reveal—just part of who she is. The way the show integrates her identity into her character without making it her sole defining trait is something I really appreciate. Then there’s 'The 100,' where Clarke Griffin’s bisexuality is central to her relationships but never feels forced. The show’s post-apocalyptic setting lets her identity exist without the usual modern-day stereotypes, which is a nice change of pace. Another standout is 'Sense8,' where Nomi Marks’ relationship with Amanita is one of the most heartfelt portrayals of queer love I’ve seen. The show’s sci-fi elements amplify the emotional stakes, making their bond even more compelling. And let’s not forget 'Schitt’s Creek,' where David Rose’s pansexuality (often overlapping with bi representation) is played for humor but never at the expense of respect. The way his sexuality is just part of the fabric of the show’s world feels like a step forward for TV.

One film that absolutely nails bisexual representation is 'The Favourite'—Yorgos Lanthimos crafted this chaotic, darkly hilarious period piece where sexuality isn’t treated as a plot twist or a moral lesson. It’s just... there. Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone’s characters navigate power, desire, and manipulation in this messy, human way that feels so refreshing. The film doesn’t shy away from showing their bisexuality as fluid, neither vilified nor glorified, just part of their complex lives. Another standout is 'Portrait of a Lady on Fire.' The romance between Héloïse and Marianne is achingly tender, with every glance and brushstroke carrying weight. What I love is how their attraction unfolds organically, without the usual tropes of 'confused' or 'experimenting' characters. It’s a quiet, beautiful affirmation of queer love that resonates deeply, especially because it’s set in a time when such relationships were forbidden. These films don’t just check a box—they make bisexuality feel real, nuanced, and unapologetic.

One film that really stands out to me is 'Call Me by Your Name'. The way it portrays the relationship between Elio and Oliver feels so raw and genuine, like you're peeking into someone's actual summer romance. The slow burn of their connection, the unspoken glances, and the heartbreaking finale—it all captures the messy, beautiful reality of first love. Another gem is 'Moonlight', which unfolds in three acts to show Chiron's journey from childhood to adulthood. The film doesn't just focus on romance but also on identity and vulnerability, especially in that tender beach scene. Barry Jenkins' direction makes every moment feel intimate, like you're walking alongside Chiron. For something quieter, 'God’s Own Country' depicts a rough-around-the edges farmhand whose life changes when a migrant worker arrives. Their relationship builds through shared labor and small gestures, far from stereotypical grand romances.