Marco Berger’s films often begin, in one way or another, with a knock on the door. A young gay man steps into a summer house, or sometimes a luxury villa, typically inhabited by a group of attractive young men on holiday. As homoerotic tension simmers, the hyper-masculine environment is charged with banter, dares, and provocative games. The Argentinian director’s films test the fragile boundaries of homosocial spaces, blurring the lines between gay and straight as characters navigate complex emotions. His settings become pressure cookers – or at times, ticking time bombs – of unspoken dynamics, male bonding, and the perils of repressed desire.

It’s these elements – heightened by homoerotic scenes and prolonged shots of the male body – that have made Berger one of the most prolific and successful film-makers in Latin America and widely pirated globally. “I’m obsessed with telling the story of two men in a summer house because summer creates the perfect conditions for exploring male desire,” Berger says. “The clothes come off, and the skin is exposed. It’s the perfect setting.”

“Most straight people love my films and react positively. But there’s a stigma around gay films. If you watch a movie about a killer or a rapist, no one assumes you are one. But if you watch a gay film, people might ask, ‘Why do you like Berger’s films? Are you gay?’ These prejudices keep many from watching my work.”

“My films blur boundaries, making some masculine viewers question if they could be gay. That thought alone unsettles many.”

Berger’s latest film, The Astronaut Lovers, screens at the 2025 edition of BFI Flare, London’s LGBTQIA+ film festival, and marks his 12th feature in 15 years. The film opens not with a door-knock, but with openly-gay Pedro (played by Javier Orán) gazing through the windows of a family summer house before a cousin opens the door for him. Inside, Pedro immediately connects with his cousin’s friend, Maxi (played by Lautaro Bettoni); the two, who have known each other since childhood, share an instant rapport,and although Maxi appears to be straight), he seems eager to push boundaries with Pedro. What begins as playful banter soon evolves into a fauxmance when Maxi lies to his ex-girlfriend, claiming he’s now gay and dating Pedro. As the comedy-drama unfolds, we realise that while the lie may have been a ploy to win back his ex, the bond between Pedro and Maxi becomes undeniably real.

Berger says that his interest lies in the complexities of the in-between spaces between homosexuality and heterosexuality that frequently appear in his films; society, he says, imposes rigid categories of sexual identity, yet human attraction is inherently fluid. It is particularly evident in his 2009 feature debut Plan B , which follows a young man who hatches an unconventional scheme to win back his ex-girlfriend by seducing her new boyfriend, a theme that echoes in Berger’s latest film.

“Our society puts limits,” he says. “Like you have to be straight or you have to be gay. But in reality, you never know. Why do we have to choose a label?”

Comedy plays a crucial role in his storytelling. He reflects on how queer cinema often lacks traditional romantic comedies, which inspired him to make The Astronaut Lovers. “I wanted to make a romantic comedy with two men because it barely exists. It’s a political statement as much as a film,” he says. “Comedy has a way of easing tension and allowing us to say things we might not dare to say otherwise.”

Homoerotic tension woven into everyday situations recurs in Berger’s films. He attributes this to his personal experiences growing up gay in a heteronormative society, and is fascinated with moments when love first emerges – especially during adolescence. “I feel like the world stole my youth, and I’m angry about it. I never had a boyfriend in high school. My friends – the girls had boyfriends, and the boys had girlfriends. Everything that happened for them never happened to me,” he says.

Berger also addresses the challenges of being gay in Argentina where, despite some social progression, public displays of affection between same-sex couples can still attract unwanted attention. “Even in Buenos Aires, walking hand in hand with a man is still an act of rebellion.”

His 2022 film Horseplay examined the theme, exploring toxic masculinity and homophobia, particularly among privileged young men. Inspired by a real-life murder case in Argentina, Berger says: “At first, you think you like these guys. They’re rich, handsome, confident. And then you realise – this is the toxic part of society.” The film, filled with playful pranks and homoerotic teasing, blurs the line between camaraderie and latent aggression, eventually leading to a shocking act of violence. Horseplay contrasts with Taekwondo (a film he made with Martín Farina in 2016) which also depicts male bonding, but in a much more tender and accepting environment; it is a slow-burn drama in which Fernando invites Germán, a closeted new friend from his taekwondo class, to spend time at a summer house with his group of straight male friends.

Reflecting on his personal life, Berger shares that he grew up in a middle-class family in Buenos Aires and came out at 18. “We never went to Miami as many people did.” His father initially struggled to accept his sexuality, even suggesting therapy. However, this experience led the therapist to discover Berger’s creative talent, ultimately steering him toward film-making.

In his personal life, he admits that he is “not this clean, perfect boy,” but he says he’s not comfortable with “opening the door and having sex”. “I’m not on PrEP [pre-exposure prophylaxis]. I don’t go to parties and do chemsex. I never have. Because of my childhood, I’ve always valued pure love.”

Despite his success, Berger faces challenges in the film industry. He believes homophobia still affects funding opportunities, as some producers hesitate to finance LGBTQ+ films. “I’ve seen straight directors get millions for their second film. I’ve made 12 films, and together they cost less than one of theirs.”

“The biggest producers don’t want to produce my work,” he adds. “They’re afraid of being labelled as producers of gay films. I was never on equal footing with other directors. The Astronaut Lovers was made with $200,000.”

“But I never thought of my career as making queer films; I thought of myself as making films. No one asks Quentin Tarantino why he’s making another straight film, and nobody questions Tim Burton about making another straight one.”

• The Astronaut Lovers screens on 27 and 28 March at the BFI Southbank.