Tag: Queer

Okay, so I just got my Bollywood cherry popped! Sure, I’ve seen bits of various movies, and a few individual dance numbers here and there, but never a whole movie, beginning to end. This was a great movie, every bit as catchy, gorgeous and deliciously over-the-top as I expected.

This is a tale of jealousy and vengeance from beyond the grave. In Guru Amma’s ‘Kingdom of Queens’, Mukta is the best dancer and the favourite of Amma. She and the other girls earn their keep by dancing and singing at weddings, births and other ceremonies, entertaining the outside world that rejected them. But one day Nandini, a teenage girl with a mysterious past, shows up out the blue. Angelically beautiful, with a gentle heart, Nandini is a phenomenal dancer, outshining Mukta on her very first tryout. Worse, she is unconditionally adored by Amma and the other hijras. They all want to dance like her (and not like Mukta), ignore their duties, give her little gifts, and Amma herself gives her a pair of jewelled anklets, gorgeous even by this movie’s standards. In anger, Mukta sets fire to her hijra outfit and storms out wearing her old teenage boy clothes (which miraculously still fit her after 15 years).

After wandering around a bit and almost visiting her family (Mukta’s mother still misses her son terribly, but her father will not even look at her), she returns to Guru Amma, somewhat humbled but still not ready to love Nandini. She concocts a scheme to make Nandini leave the Kingdom by setting her up with a talent agent she met in her wandering, who’s always looking for good dancers. If Nandini does well she’ll be an international star, and peace will return to Amma’s kingdom. Win-win!

Unfortunately the talent agent is a sleaze, and after Mukta leaves he tries to put the moves on Nandini. She resists, they fight, and she accidentally dies. For the next couple days Mukta—already guilty for deceiving Nandini—is haunted by visions of Nandini’s lovely anklets (which is a lot creepier than it sounds, and the SFX were pretty good), until Nandini’s bloodstained shawl is discovered, followed by Nandini’s body. Mukta, now out of her mind with grief and guilt, publicly confesses, and is confronted with the ghost of Nandini which no one else can see. Nandini forces her to dance, all up and down the courtyard, over and over, even as Mukta begs for mercy. Then Guru Amma—who somehow had figured out that Nandini is her niece, though I forget how exactly—also begs for forgiveness, and Nandini lets go. Mukta falls down dead, and the Kingdom now has two sisters to grieve for.

So… that was fun! This was way different from anything I’ve seen before, and I can’t compare it to any other Bollywood movie, so all I know is that I loved it! It had energy, amazing visuals, a compelling story, and some beautiful dance numbers. Not as many as I expected, though, so that was a bit of a disappointment.

One audience member who does know her Bollywood didn’t think much of it, though. It was deadly earnest and depressing, similar to old-timey Hollywood gay movies, where the gay characters are all destined to die in the end. Here, the Queens are destined only to dance and entertain, facilitating other people’s love but never enjoying it themselves. Which as I understand it is how they’re traditionally supposed to live their lives. But aren’t traditions meant to be broken? If you’re going to have the characters demand respect from bigots and even fight back against bashers, you might as well go all the way and fight against repressive traditions as well.

Which is fair enough, and leaves me a bit conflicted about the movie. But only a bit. Most of me is in it for the dance.

Both heartwarming and sobering at the same time, this pair of films looks at the challenges faced by Chinese GLBT people and the brave people who are slowly changing things.

Lala Road: In this short (10 min) film, several lesbian teens and young adults tell us about their difficulties coming out and dealing with their families (“lala” is slang for lesbian). They face intense pressure to get married and have babies, while their parents face shame (if people ever found out) and misconceptions about homosexuality. Many of these kids have only two options: get married or leave China. Living abroad they’ll be free to love who they wish to love, and let their parents keep on believing they have a straight child.

Mama Rainbow: these interviews with gay and lesbian kids and the awesome mothers who love and support them. They spoke very candidly about their previous doubts and misconceptions (it’s just a phase / it’s just a Western fad / it can be cured), the coming-out stories—from both sides—and their continuing work supporting Chinese PFLAG chapters and other local queer organisations. It’s beautiful, often sweetly funny, and will definitely give you warm fuzzies.

The films were followed by a Q&A with a couple members of PFLAG Vancouver. One of the questions asked was: where are the fathers? The situation’s actually pretty similar in Canada and the US, where fathers in PFLAG are rare. Mothers (I guess, in any culture) can handle and express emotions better, and tend to be more outspoken allies.

Also, interesting fact: PFLAG is in the process of opening a new chapter in Abbotsford. They pointed out that once that’s up and running they’ll probably be facing issues not too different from what we saw in Mama Rainbow: societal shame for everyone concerned, fighting against rigid traditions, and the difficulties of living openly gay out in the Fraser Valley, leading kids to just pack up and leave.

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? is a sweet and hilarious Taiwanese comedy about gay desire and wacky family antics, which a surprisingly dramatic resolution.

Weinchung has been married to Feng for 8 years now. He has a perfectly normal job as an optometrist, a lovely six-year-old son… and a secret. Before marrying Feng he used to be gay, but now he’s becoming attracted to men again. Meanwhile Feng, nagged on by her parents and co-workers, wants to have another child. As it that wasn’t enough, Weinchung’s wild sister Mandy gets cold feet and abandons her fiancé San-San in a huge Costco-like department store. All of the plotlines and misadventures—Feng’s frustrations, Weinchung’s infatuation with a handsome airline attendant, San-San getting Stephen, his flamboyantly bitchy wedding photographer (who used to be part of Weinchung’s old crowd) to help him get Mandy back—are played for laughs until the last act, when Feng actually catches Weinchung and Thomas kissing (just a peck on the cheek, which is as far as it’s ever gotten outside of Weinchung’s imagination).

Then it gets serious. Feng angrily confronts her husband, who at first denies everything, then confesses. Feng is not angry anymore, but they don’t know where to go from here. At Mandy and San-San’s wedding (yes, they got back together, no thanks to Stephen), Weinchung publicly promises to stay by Feng’s side forever, having already dumped the airline attendant. But Feng floors him by asking for a divorce. He’s not in love with her, she calmly explains, and they both need the chance to find love again. She doesn’t regret the years they spent together, and they’ll still be family. He accepts, and the movie ends with them serenely walking out of the wedding reception together.

Well, I for one was pleasantly shocked. First, I expected lightweight comedy, and I would have been perfectly happy with that, but the ending was surprisingly strong. Second, especially in a comedy and even after the drama, I expected Weinchung and Feng to stay together. After all, hadn’t San-San and Mandy reconciled after their breakup and multiple pathetic seduction attempts? Of course, this was the only sane solution: neither spouse was happy with the status quo, and this was the best Happily Ever After they could hope for. It was a brave choice, both for the characters and the movie.

PS: I was intrigued by Mandy eating noodles while watching soap operas. I guess ice cream to drown your sorrows is not a thing in Taiwan?

Written and directed by David Lambert, this French film is a harsh meditation on power, choice and freedom. Not a happy movie by any means, it offers fascinating character development, an engrossing story, and a lot of food for thought.

At first it looked like your basic coming out story from a bygone decade: boy has girl, but boy also likes boys, boy hooks up with boy, girl kicks out boy, boy moves in with boy, the end. But no, in fact that was just where things got interesting. The movie begins with needy, whiny Paulo getting blind drunk in a bar and taken home by cool, sexy Albanian bartender Ilir. Nothing much happens right away, but Paulo is instantly attracted, and not being the sharpest tool in the shed doesn’t cover it up very well from his girlfriend. Having nobody else to turn to, he ends up at Ilir’s doorstep. Ilir, who’d just been looking for a bit of fun, reluctantly takes Paulo in.

And they stay together. At first I wasn’t sure why, because Paulo is needy and touchy-feely like an abandoned puppy, and in so many words asks Ilir to take care of him; I honestly found him incredibly annoying, and figured he must be a monster in the sack for anyone to put up with him for more than five minutes.

After some time, Ilir gets caught smuggling drugs, and is sent to prison. Paulo stays completely loyal, writing regularly and visiting him every week even after he moves in with a sex shop owner who had hit on him earlier, giving him money, even smuggling in drugs (not very successfully). Eventually Ilir asks Paulo to not visit him anymore: half an hour a week is too painful, and it’s “weakening” him at a time he needs to be strong and tough just to survive. Paulo initially refuses but Ilir forces the issue, pretends Paulo assaulted him which presumably bans him from visiting forever.

When Ilir is finally let out of prison, he goes to visit Paulo and finds him very much changed from the needy kid he used to know. A nice haircut, smart glasses, fancier clothes, a lot of money to throw around. Working at the sex shop now, still living with the owner, it looks like he’s moved on and up in the world. He’s also mostly over Ilir; though some of the old feelings are there, but when they spend the night in a fancy hotel room, there’s only drinking and talking, not sex. One last smiling selfie, and the two part ways. Perhaps forever, certainly for a while.

What’s interesting about the end is that Ilir and Paulo’s positions seem to be reversed. The poor, needy boy that followed his dick from relationship to relationship is now stable and in-control man, able to say “no”. Or is he? How free is Paulo if he’s depending on his daddy for room, board and affection? Is his life now much different than when he pathetically showed up at Ilir’s door?

As for Ilir, yes, his life was pretty good before, and went seriously downhill while he was in prison. But now? I think he’ll be okay. He doesn’t need to latch on to a lover to be complete. The very last scene, of him in a club watching his old band playing with a replacement bass player was interesting. He didn’t seem upset, but serene. His friends have moved on, and maybe he’ll be able to reconnect, but in the meantime it looks like he’s just wishing them well.

Some of the movie’s symbolism is a bit puzzling. Let’s start with the most obvious: “Ilir” is Albanian for “freedom”. Is this meaningful? As I said, Ilir did seem to be the free one, but that got reversed when he ended up in jail. And then reversed again when he got out?

Paulo’s symbolism also raises questions. It turns out he’s a BDSM sub; when Ilir went on what should have been a weekend trip out of town to smuggle hash, they bought a chastity cage for Paulo’s cock, and Ilir kept the key. Paulo only got free after going back to the sex shop and explaining his situation to the owner. So what should we read into that? Was Paulo trapped by Ilir, and freed by the shop owner? When he got into more hardcore BDSM with him, did he become less free? Are his romantic neediness and sub-ness related, or is the one just a symbol of the other? If you choose to enter an unequal relationship, do you become more or less free? Or am I just projecting my squeamishness about BDSM relationships?

A lot of questions, and I’m not even sure if they’re the right ones. But I think one question is pretty clear: at the end of the film, are Ilir and Paulo happy? And the answer is no. Their final smiles for the camera were nothing more than skin deep. A better question: will they be happy in the future? For Ilir, I’d say yes, because I get the impression that he’s learned from his experience and will find his way. For Paulo, I’m not so sure. He’s more self-confident, sure, and superficially successful, but that will probably change the second his romantic situation changes.

Still, I think I’ll end there. This was a difficult movie to sit through, because it’s painful to watch characters go through stupid and / or self-destructive behaviour. But it made me think: about what my own life choices might look like from the outside, what freedom means, and what happiness feels like. I didn’t exactly enjoy the experience, but I think I’m a little wiser for it.

Magnifica Presenza is a delightful film directed and co-written by Ferzan Özpetek. Though sad at times, it has many comedic moments, and many more uplifting ones. It is a tale about endings and new beginnings, about insecurity and confidence, and how the past can touch us even across generations. Also, ghosts.

Meet dorky, lonely Pietro. A humble baker (he only makes croissants) and aspiring actor, he has just rented an old house in Rome’s Monteverde neighbourhood. It’s remarkably cheap, even considering how run-down the place looks. Ignoring the advice of his stern, uptight cousin, Pietro is happy to move in and start fixing things up.

It’s only a little later that he discovers the house is haunted. At first he doesn’t know just what is going on; the ghosts look perfectly normal—no rattling chains, no walking through walls—and are quite harmless. After realising they’re neither burglars nor previous tenants, and also that no one else can see them, Pietro decides he just wants them gone from his house.

But it’s not that easy. The ghosts reveal that they are the Apollonio theatre group, which history records disappeared without a trace in 1943. They seem to believe that they are alive, still living in fascist Italy, and that the war still rages. Whatever happened to them in 1943 (and we don’t find out until the very end), one of their number was missing: the great actress Livia Morosini. They want Pietro to find out if she made it out of Italy alive. Without knowing for sure where Livia is, The Apollonio ghosts can’t leave the house.

So for a while, Pietro settles in with his odd roommates. Apart from a tendency to rehearse scenes in the middle of the night, they’re not too bad to live with: they help him sort through his collection of historical trading cards (he’s still looking for some rare ones), try to cheer him up about his disastrous love life, and give him some tips on acting. One of them, a handsome young poet, takes a fancy to Pietro, and I wondered if the two of them would get it on. And then I wondered if that was even possible. What were the rules of the supernatural in this movie? We’d seen the ghosts interact with the physical world, and they thought they were alive, so…

But nothing happened, just as nothing happened between Pietro and his hunky neighbour, whom he met halfway through the movie. And after Pietro takes the ghosts’ advice just a little too far and bombs a really important audition, his self-confidence is completely shattered, and finally starts taking steps to find this Livia Morosini.

He does eventually find her, and discovers the terrible truth: the Apollonio troupe were anti-fascist spies, using their freedom as performers to travel even across borders to help other resistance fighters. In 1943 they were betrayed to the police, ran back to their house where they were killed. Livia survived, only because she was the one who betrayed them—her only passion was acting, she didn’t care about politics or other people’s freedom. Even now, 70 years later, she does not regret her actions.

The Apollonio actors now have their answer; and it seems they’re finally able to live in the present instead of endlessly repeating the past. They ask Pietro what year it is, and he brings them up to speed on how the world has changed. Yes, Hitler is dead. Yes, Communism is dead. And hey, America has a Black president! The movie ends with the ghosts returning to their old theatre—now abandoned—and performing the play they never got to finish 70 years ago.

Where will they go now? And where will Pietro go? We don’t know, and I think that’s just fine. Pietro had two possible love interests in the movie; it’s still possible he’ll get together with the hunky neighbour but I think that, for him, a happy ending just means the possibility of romance. When the movie started he was in a completely one-sided long-distance relationship, ended only when his stalkee confronted him face-to-face and told him to stay away. The truth hurt, but it gave him the chance to move on with his life. His acting career, too. Sure, he flubbed a couple of auditions, but I like to think the ghosts have given more confidence, enabling him to explore great things.

I admit, I identified with him a lot. The shyness, the nerdiness, the big dreams and the lingering insecurities. On the other hand, a part of me also identified with the condescending doctor who at one point thought Pietro was hallucinating and recommended staying away from auditions, night shifts, anything but a simple, unstressful routine. That’s the part of me that wants me to stay in my comfort zone, to stay safe, to not try. Huh. Thanks, movie! I find it’s useful to externalise the voices in your head. Makes it much easier to give them the finger if needed.

The parallels between Pietro and the Apollonio troupe are obvious, but not heavy-handed. The ghosts are far more than echoes, but they are clearly trapped in the past as well as the house, still in the fine clothes they wore for their performance, unable to change and move on. But once they do move on, we share the joy of seeing the modern world through their eyes. For all its troubles, the world is a better place now than it was 70 years ago.

I should also mention Magnifica Presenza‘s beautiful visuals: the ghosts’ old-time fancy evening dress, Pietro’s food, his funky old house. Incidentally, that makes it two for two Italian movies I’ve seen at the VQFF (the first being Diverso da chi in 2011) that feature some serious food porn. Not that I’m complaining.

Magnifica Presenza is a gorgeous movie in every way: the people, the sets, the language, the messages. Sweet and funny, tragic and hopeful, it is a wonderful start to the 25th Queer Film Festival.