Out, looking to fit in

"Trembling Before G--d" (2001). Sandi Simcha Dubowski's feature documentary looks at the painful, often lonely struggles of Orthodox and Hasidic Jews who are gay or lesbian. The film's subjects aren't people who've turned away from their religion because of its fundamental hard-line intolerance of their lifestyle but rather largely devout sorts who yearn to find a way to reconcile their faith and their sexuality. A number of interviews are conducted in shadow or silhouette, an indicator of Dubowski's self-admitted difficulty in finding opportunities to explore this territory. But then there's the California urbanite who talks compellingly of the years of therapy to which he submitted in an effort to "change," at one point even taking a bit of advice to try eating figs every day. The camera follows him to a reunion with the rabbi he'd come out to 20 years earlier, a meeting that's most intriguing for the seemingly liberal rabbi's clearly conflicted response. "Must I live a celibate . . . existence by myself with friends? Is that my lot?" our subject asks. The rabbi, in a sympathetic, my-hands-are-tied tone: "Yes."

An older, outspoken New York interviewee named Israel brings some levity to the proceedings, providing a glimpse of his job running Israel's Big Knish Tours. But his story ultimately turns poignant as well, as he fruitlessly tries to reconnect with his estranged, elderly father.

One needn't be Jewish to empathize. Still, aside from providing subtitled translations of various Hebrew terms, Dubowski doesn't make this a fully guided tour. How the Orthodox and Hasidic stance against homosexuality is distinguishable from, say, the Catholic Church's stance is never really addressed for gentile viewers.

Dubowski devotes much of the bonus material on the second disc to charting the film's social impact --including one interviewee's decision to finally let her face be shown on camera, since she felt only good had come from the project. Another extra feature examines Judaism's atonement ceremony for "sexual sins." (Newly available from New Yorker Video, $39.95; VHS priced for rental)

"Coming Out Party" (2003). Talk about a ripe source for material: Seven gay and lesbian comedians share stories about coming out to family and friends. One of the more familiar faces is Daniel Renzi of MTV's "The Real World: Miami"; another is "Saturday Night Live" and "Mad TV" vet Terry Sweeney, who relates the surreal experience of continually reminding his boyfriend's Alzheimer's-stricken mother that he was gay.

Interestingly, some of the strangest, most amusing anecdotes are less universal and more inside showbiz. Rene Hicks notes her early professional misgivings about having her sexuality known, particularly as an African-American: "I don't want to put myself in jeopardy by telling somebody I'm gay and then not being able to read for [the role of] crack ho." And John Riggi, who has written for "The Larry Sanders Show" and for Dennis Miller, talks bemusedly about some of the low-level jabs he takes from his fellow writing staffers -- nothing homophobic, really, but definitely "homo-stupid." So much for Hollywood liberalism. (Creative Light Entertainment, $19.99, exclusively at comingoutpartydvd.com)

"Jeffrey" (1995). Steven Weber's actor-waiter title character isn't hiding in the closet in this witty romantic comedy. He's just hiding out from the specter of AIDS and the fear of being hurt by it, emotionally if not physically. Immediately after taking an abrupt vow of celibacy, Jeffrey meets pumped-up Steve (Michael T. Weiss of TV's "The Pretender") and is all set to break his vow -- until Steve reveals that he's HIV-positive, prompting Jeffrey to spend much of the film trying to dodge him. Occasionally, it seems, the close-mindedness gays face can come from within their community as well.

New York writer Paul Rudnick adapted "Jeffrey" from his stage play, and it has an edge that his scripts for mainstream efforts like "In & Out" and last summer's "Marci X" don't fully convey. Jeffrey's fantasy-sequence call in which he gets sex advice from his mom and dad back home in the Midwest, for one, is terrifically off-color. Meanwhile, viewers who were tickled by Patrick Stewart's recent switch-hitting turn on "Frasier" will be amused, if a little surprised, to see him playing even prissier on this no-frills disc, as an interior designer who enjoys donning the occasional tiara or pink beret. (MGM Home Entertainment, $19.98; also on VHS, limited availability)