Queer Representation in Shiva Baby

A feature-length adaptation of its original short film of the same name, Shiva Baby follows Rachel Sennott as Danielle, a university student juggling secret relationships and family expectations.

Written and directed by Emma Seligman, Shiva Baby was both their directorial debut and marked the quick beginning of her success. Their writing and plotlines were immediately striking, something I’d never seen on screen before, with Shiva Baby offering a rare portrayal of bisexuality that feels neither overexplained nor underplayed. Seligman, who formerly identified as bisexual and has since described herself as “just gay” to The Hollywood Reporter, approaches queerness not as a statement or driving force but as an existing human characteristic – complex and ordinary.

Danielle is not a tragic figure. She’s simply trying to survive a family gathering where her sugar daddy, Max (Danny Deferrari), and her ex-girlfriend, Maya (Molly Gordon), are both attendees. These relationships are presented with equal weight, emotional intensity, and sexual complexity. While that balance is a powerful driving force, the labels or dynamics of Danielle’s sexuality aren’t the problem; it’s simply the discomfort of bumping into an ex – and your current situationship. Danielle’s bisexuality isn’t treated as a reveal or a punchline but just an element of her life.

This approach feels especially resonant for younger queer audiences. Many have grown up with shifting understandings of identity and language, and the film reflects that fluidity without preaching it. It’s not about coming out, but navigating space, people, and expectations when you’re not entirely sure where you fit.

Much of what makes Shiva Baby work is Sennott’s exceptional performance. With roots in alternative comedy and a strong understanding of modern online humour, she brings a dry wit to the role that keeps the film from tipping too far away from its comedy genre.

There’s also something deeply contemporary about how Sennott embodies Danielle. This isn’t the cinematic bisexuality from the glossy male gaze or despairing dramas – it’s anxious, confused, a tad self-centred, and funny. It’s not in-your-face political, but it is subtly radical.

Visually, Shiva Baby mirrors Danielle’s internal collapse. Cinematographer Maria Rusche shoots in a tight 4:3 frame, boxing the character in at every turn. The camera hovers just a bit too close, often blurring the edges of the frame. It’s claustrophobic by design, echoing the way Danielle feels — over bared by parental expectations, career uncertainty, sexual ambiguity, and social awkwardness, all in one sitting.

The score, by Ariel Marx, amplifies this mood with jarring strings that wouldn’t be out of place in a psychological horror. In scenes where Maya and Max occupy the same space, the music creaks and screeches, almost unbearable in its tension. It’s a brilliant move — using sound to highlight how queerness, shame, and secrets can heighten even the most benign social encounter.

For those who later discovered Seligman’s follow-up film Bottoms, Shiva Baby offers an early glimpse of the themes and tones that would flourish in their later work. While Bottoms leans fully into absurdist queer comedy, Shiva Baby keeps things grounded — but the DNA is the same: women who are messy, funny, and fully themselves, existing in spaces that both welcome and reject them.

It’s a pleasure — and frankly, a relief — to see queer female characters who are allowed to be imperfect without being punished. Danielle’s journey isn’t about redemption or resolution; it’s about enduring discomfort and surviving the day. Sometimes, that’s radical in itself. There’s something uniquely intense about watching Shiva Baby unfold in a cinema. It’s a comedy, but one wrapped in tightly wound anxiety.

Tyneside Cinema is showing Shiva Baby on 17th May and you can book tickets here.