On a march through Berlin, the film examines a provocative clash of identities as gay men confront the legacies of extreme right-wing politics. In a bold, quiet moment among the crowd, the participants critique the idea of gay men aligned with white power or neo-Nazi ideologies, noting the sheer absurdity of such a fusion. One listener perhaps voices the most pointed truth: if the gay far right and neo-Nazis had lived in the era they admire, they would have been exterminated.
Four men in present-day Germany, each with a past or ongoing involvement in right-wing circles, share their experiences and beliefs. Andre, a skinhead who openly embraces his sexuality, defines violence as the courage to defend oneself and as a visible expression of the warrior spirit within. He is openly gay and, while tolerated by some fellow skinheads, he lives under constant threat. Over time, his path leads away from the skinheads and toward conservative political currents, revealing how personal identity and political allegiance can shift in response to fear and belonging.
Bela Ewald Althans emerges from a storied chapter of neo-Nazi history. Once a prominent Nazi figure who admired Adolf Hitler and denied the Holocaust, he was arrested in 1994 and spent 21 months in jail for Holocaust denial caught on camera during a visit to Auschwitz. Today, he works in advertising and remains engaged in the gay community, insisting that his evolution into self-acceptance was gradual rather than abrupt. His perspective underscores the complex, sometimes contradictory paths people take within extremist movements.
Alexander Schlesinger, a native of East Germany, is involved in a political party that espouses extreme-right views. He asserts a provocative stance: being gay does not make someone inherently better, and a gay person can still be racist. When he discusses his attractions, he articulates a controversial ideal: “We gay men are drawn toward a masculine ideal. I can’t stand a screaming queen.” His comments illuminate how some individuals reconcile sexuality with harsh gendered expectations and political ideology.
Jörg Fischer spent nine years as an active member of the far-right parties NPD and DVU, during which time he had a relationship with another male party member. They shared intimate moments for years, yet never spoke about sex or used the word gay. He left those organizations in 1991, rejecting their anti-immigrant and anti-gay stances, and later found another male partner. He now works in social issues, illustrating how personal loyalties and public commitments can diverge over time.
Interwoven with these personal testimonies are expert voices from historians, journalists, and intellectuals who trace the threads between fascism and sexuality through modern German history. The film revisits the life of neo-Nazi Michael Kühnen, a dramatic figure who remained closeted until 1981, when a young gay neo-Nazi named Johannes Bugner was killed in Hamburg for his sexual orientation. Kühnen later published National Socialism and Homosexuality, coming out as gay and arguing that gay men could be formidable fighters because they are less bound by family ties and more bonded to their comrades. He died of AIDS in 1991, but his story continues to provoke questions about the intersection of queerness and extremist politics.
The documentary makes clear that extremist currents have long intersected with homosexual identities. It recounts how key Nazi figures navigated same-sex attraction: Rudolf Hess wrote love letters and poems to men in his youth and only married at Hitler’s urging; Ernst Röhm, a co-founder of the SA, was a close ally of Hitler whose homosexuality and affinity for younger soldiers shaped his role—until the Night of the Long Knives, when Röhm was arrested and killed. Hitler himself is shown via archive footage as the regime’s power unfolds, with discussions of Röhm’s deputy Edmund Heines and the chilling environment around their leadership. The film also touches on the broader historical debate, including theories about Hitler’s own sexuality raised by scholars, and it notes the brutal fact that between five and fifteen thousand gay men were killed in concentration camps during the Nazi era. Pierre Seel, a gay Holocaust survivor, is briefly featured to recount the brutal fate that many faced in Schirmeck-Vorbruck and other camps.
Through these interwoven voices and historical touchpoints, the documentary offers a measured, reflective exploration of how sexuality, identity, and political extremism have intersected in Germany’s past and present. It presents a careful, nuanced portrait that neither sensationalizes nor excuses, instead inviting viewers to consider the unsettling ways in which personal beliefs and public ideologies can collide, blur, or persist across generations.
