STUFF Kicked Off with Hilarious, Mundane, Relatable Trans Moments

Inside the NWFF theater at STUFF

The Evergreen Echo

Seattle Trans Underground Film Festival (STUFF) held its first viewings on October 16, 2025, at the lovely Northwest Film Forum. I had the honor to snuggle into a cozy theatre amongst a host of creative Queer and Trans individuals to watch the festival’s first double feature, CW’s Laughtrack and Henry Hanson’s Dog Movie. There were many laughs and a few tears shed, especially at the films’ closes, where both received minutes-long applause. I found myself absolutely flooded with emotion, completely captivated by the siblinghood and creativity cultivated by this community. Both of these films had an all-Trans cast and crew and were made for a Trans audience, highlighting the silliness and mundanity of the Trans experience—something untouched by cis producers—and the reception was joyous. I could not have asked for a better showing, and I’m very excited to share this experience with you.

STUFF was started by local Trans film enthusiasts looking for a place to highlight, share, and view films by and for Trans people, riding on the back of STFU, the Seattle Trans Film Union, whose slogan “STFU! We’re watching Trans films!” might just be the best tagline in the world. STFU, founded in 2024, organizes smaller events for Trans films and audiences, including one-off screenings, making zines, and helping Trans film enthusiasts make connections in Seattle. In 2025, members of STFU saw a need to create an annual Trans Film Festival, and STUFF was born. 

Just a hop, skip, and a jump from Cal Anderson Park (home of the beloved and controversial Hot Rat Summer mosaic), STUFF set up shop at Northwest Film Forum. From the moment I stepped inside, the room was abuzz with excited chatter and happy faces. There is a certain kind of comradery and happiness to be found in an all-Queer space, and STUFF thrummed with that energy. The kindness of the staff and viewers was beyond compare, with people offering each other their seats and joyously hugging their friends and family. Even though I came to the theater alone, I felt deeply connected with my Queer and Trans siblings. It is a good reminder, in fraught political times, to know that places like these still exist. 

Before the films began, several members of STUFF came up to announce the two films and share the films’ connection—honoring what is mundane about the Trans experience. Then the lights dimmed and the double feature began. Credit is definitely due to the staff of STUFF for putting these two films together, as they perfectly aligned in energy and storytelling. One could almost slip into and forget the world around them—save of course for the laughter of fellow viewers. 

A comment that filmmaker CW made after the viewing stuck with me. He explained that these films allowed you to forget that being Trans could be anything other than “normal.” Because the cast and crew of each film were all Trans themselves, there was a sense of care and respect given to the Trans experience that almost let it disappear into the background noise. Often, when cis people are in charge of our narratives, being Trans can either be made into the butt of a joke or made into something deeply traumatic. Often our stories are boiled down to “feeling trapped in the wrong body,” or “transitioning is a horrible experience,” or “I transitioned and now I’m basically cis.” Some of these may have a kernel of the truth, but none of them are completely accurate. When we are in charge of our own stories, being Trans is no longer the only interesting thing about us. Because a large part of the audience was Trans and Queer as well, it also meant that there was no need to rehash or explain parts of the Trans experience to us in the film. The characters could just be.

The Evergreen Echo

CW’s Laughtrack was a magical and meta experience, beginning as an interview-style documentary and dissolving into hysterical, reaction-style content. CW’s piece involved the sharing of traumatic stories that had become laughable over time and then dissecting those stories and how we react to them. The interviewer would ask, “Do you think the narrative loves you?” and “Why did this happen to you?”—questions which would jab at something existential, but still remain in the realm of whimsy. CW also got up to speak at the end of the viewing, providing interesting insight into the film’s production and inspiration. Their work made us consider humor as an act of survival, and the telling of stories as an act of rewriting history.

Henry Hanson’s Dog Movie was another comical feature. A couple living with a rowdy roommate had invited a new person into their home—a senior dog named Blue. The chaos that ensued was nothing short of hilarious. Several blundering conversations, ironic misunderstandings, and just general silliness made this film a hoot, as the audience oscillated between guffaws and cooing at the appearance of Blue on screen. This film stood out to me as being designed with a Trans audience in mind. While all the characters were Trans (or a Pitbull mix in the case of Blue), their Transness had nothing to do with the story at all—the entire film circled instead around something completely ordinary: having a bad roommate. These characters could exist as Trans without it having to mean anything at all. 

My experience of STUFF’s first ever festival was incredibly meaningful and magical. To be surrounded by creatives who uplift and support Queer and Trans storytelling is an experience like no other. I feel grateful to have been a part of their opening night, and highly recommend any film buffs to keep STUFF on their radar, as they are doing wonderful work in our community.