The intersection of queer and punk is both broad and well-traveled and so it stands to reason that there are quite a few films representing same at this year's Frameline. I previewed a few of the more punk and punk-leaning docs appearing in the festival this year and a few selections stood above the rest.
The first of these, Miwa: A Japanese Icon, is certainly less "punk" per se but nonetheless guided by a spirit of resistance and irreverence that is punk's hallmark. The French-made doc candidly (and a bit cheekily) presents Akihiro Miwa (Miwa to his fans) as a sort of elder statesman of Japanese queerdom. In contrast to his frequent, often catty Japanese daytime TV persona, Miwa appears charming, subdued, and composed, recalling his life and successes from one of the ornate thrones that apparently populate his home. Japan during pre-modern periods held no stigma against homosexuality, according to Miwa and the film's historians; prevailing attitudes were introduced after the war when European interests began to hold sway in a Japan striving for modernization. Recognized nationally as the nation's only "out" homosexual in post-war Japan for some time, Miwa became a focal point for the country's gay community in exile.
Though the doc pays ample attention to fetching glossies of the actor and musician as a young man and duly covers the circumstances of his childhood, the film's focus lies with the evolution of the Japanese cinematic landscape throughout which Miwa's career is woven, beginning with his role in the rise of exploitation master Kinji Fukasaku, who directed an iconic turn in Black Lizard at Miwa's request. Edogawa Rampo's novel Black Lizard was adapted for the screen by Japanese literary royalty Yukio Mishima, whose unfaltering—and unrequited—admiration jumpstarted Miwa's career. Miwa also made appearances in the radical protest films of Shūji Terayama during the 1970s, a spate of voice acting done for anime legend Hayao Miyazaki, and—in a somewhat less concrete moment—an affiliation with Takeshi Kitano from both his saloon days and the present. Miwa's ability to remain active in Japan's filmic culture for all these years coupled with his unwavering acceptance by modern Japanese as an icon of glamour and femininity can only lead one to wonder what the American landscape would look like if intolerance to homosexuality was a footnote in our culture, instead of a hallmark.
Hit So Hard is one of the better docs of the mid-90s grunge scene, framed by out lesbian Patty Schemel, long-suffering drummer of Hole and friend of Kurt Cobain. This kinetic doc captures the fever-dream rush of the band's massive success and the chaos following the death of Cobain, featuring the requisite footage of Courtney Love's unhinged personality and genuinely charming home videos that reveal better times. Despite her inevitable fall from favor around the release of the band's third album and the struggle with addiction that fills out the second half of the doc, Schemel appears older and wiser here, but no worse for wear. Those with an interest in the machinations of major-label music industry will find a good deal to chew on here.
Those who find Hit So Hard a little too soft and cuddly will find the ante upped significantly in Lilly Scourtis Ayers' Last Fast Ride: The Life, Love and Death Of A Punk Goddess, which—although not exploitative—can't help but rough us up a little as it presents the life of Marian Anderson, front singer for Insaints and Thrill Killers, whose on-stage antics led to a trial for obscenity and off-stage antics eventually led to her death by heroin overdose in 2001. Though much of her life was spent elsewhere, Marian's life is inextricably wrapped in Bay Area lore—she grew up a troubled teen in Modesto, later moving to the city where she lived in squats, occasionally working as a dominatrix at Fantasy Makers (still a standby in the Berkeley S&M scene), and running through a series of local legends, including Tim Yohannan, founder of Berkeley posi-punk cornerstone 924 Gilman Street and punk mag Maximum RocknRoll, which published both the Insaints albums and J.D.s' notorious queercore provocation "Don't Be Gay", before settling into a tumultuous long term relationship with Danielle Bernal, a self-described "butch dyke" and one of Last Fast Ride's central personalities.
Alongside lengthy interviews with Marian, Danielle and family, Last Fast Ride features interviews with punk luminaries ranging from Tim Armstrong of Rancid to SF scene stalwarts and boasts an even compassionate narration by punk touchstone and longtime LGBT advocate Henry Rollins. Even if none of these names sound familiar, the price of admission covers a great amount of titillating performance footage, nudity and all, though nothing on the order of the live excrement-and-blood bacchanals of GG Allin, who Marian acknowledges was an influence. To it's credit, Ayers avoids exploiting its very exploitable subject. Last Fast Ride is too even-handed in its presentation of Marian's lifestyle to pose as a cautionary tale. Instead, it's an engrossing look at a woman on and over the edge and the base desperation that pervaded the SF punk scene in the mid 90s.
Although it wasn't available for preview, a compendium of this year's more "punk" offerings would be incomplete without mention of Shut Up Little Man: An Audio Misadventure, the subject of which has inspired (and been sampled by) artists as far ranging as John Zorn, Nirvana and comic author Daniel Clowes. The classic taped rantings of an alcoholic odd couple have been touted by a variety of sources as visible as Spin and as underground as your older sister's 'zine, since their appearance nearly 20 years ago, and only now are finally receiving the documentary treatment.
As mentioned in my previous entry, the 35th anniversary edition of the Frameline SF International LGBT Film Festival launched Thursday, June 16 and runs right up through Gay Pride Day on Sunday, June 26. Along with the eight narrative features previously reviewed, in addition I've had the chance to preview six documentaries. All were seen on DVD screener and, where applicable, I've noted any special guests that are expected to attend the screenings.
Angel (France, dir. Sebastiano d'Ayala Valva)—A South American boxer turned Parisian transsexual prostitute makes a poignant journey home in this fascinating and affecting documentary that's among the best I've seen this year. We first meet the soft spoken, but physically imposing Angel in Paris, where he's lived and worked for five years. After receiving French residency papers that allow him to travel abroad, this strictly observational documentary follows Angel home to Guayaquil, Ecuador where he's anxious to see what's become of the hard-earned money he's been sending home.
Once the initial joy of the reunion wears off—his grateful family sings his praises and the women are fascinated by his breasts—a disillusioned Angel realizes that his largesse has largely been squandered. Only a brother he put through police academy has made good. He then travels to the seaside village of his father and is disappointed by another set of relatives he's supporting. The final straw comes when Angel inspects the house he's paying to have built for his retirement, only to find that construction has barely begun. Before returning to France, the film stops in the capital city of Quito, where Angel once lived and worked. Here we're shown another side of Angel: that of a courageous LGBT activist who was mightily feared by the police. A "one year later" epilogue finds him living in Marseilles, newly determined to consider his own wellbeing.
Hit So Hard (USA, dir. P. David Ebersole)—This fine doc about Patty Schemel is an absolute must-see for fans of Courtney Love's band Hole, and worthwhile for anyone with an interest in women rockers, queer rockers, grunge rockers or queer women grunge rockers. Schemel was one of the latter, playing drums during Hole's drug and alcohol-fueled heyday between 1992 and 1998. She famously came out to Rolling Stone in 1995. While this film doesn't emphasize her lesbianism, it doesn't soft-peddle it either.
Fortunately for us, Schemel was a prolific videographer and her footage documents an era. Most notable are delightful home movies of Love, Kurt Cobain and baby Frances Bean, with whom Schemel lived in 1992. We learn that she left a job at Microsoft to play rock and roll, prefers drumming while barefoot and her favorite movie is The Man with the Golden Arm (starring Frank Sinatra as … a junkie drummer!). Hit So Hard's emotional highpoint is the heartbreaking story of how Schemel came not to play on Hole's 1998 album "Celebrity Skin," resulting in a tailspin she barely pulled herself out of. Schemel is fine today. She still plays music, owns a dog-walking business and will be at the Frameline screening with her partner Christina Soletti and director Ebersole.
Becoming Chaz (USA, dir. Fenton Bailey, Randy Barbato)—After spending 10 unhappy years as a painkiller-addicted, video-gaming recluse, celebrity offspring Chastity Bono began a brave one-year FTM metamorphosis. This transformation has been chronicled by Bailey and Barbato, the dynamic duo of LGBT-flavored bio-docs (The Eyes of Tammy Faye). It's a year marked by "top-surgery" (i.e., breast removal), dealing with the media and daily testosterone injections. The latter brings about changes not welcomed by Bono's lesbian partner Jennifer Elia, a recovering alcoholic who receives nearly equal screen time. The ups and downs of their loving, but contentious relationship occasionally drag the film into TMI territory.
The film's real value lies in the education on transgender and FTM issues it provides. One noteworthy segment focuses on Bono's heart-rending involvement with Transforming Family. We follow him to a transgender convention and learn why most FTMs opt not to have "bottom surgery." There's also plenty about his parentage, particularly the guarded reactions of a megastar mom. In one inspired sequence, a vintage clip of Sonny performing his 1965 hit "Laugh at Me," is edited with cruel shock-jock reactions to Chaz' transition. The film's only real low is its cheesy, "inspirational" music score, which no doubt pleased Oprah Channel viewers (where the film had its small-screen premiere last month). Bono, Elia and co-director Barbato will be in the house for this screening.
Tales of the Waria (Indonesia, dir. Kathy Huang)—In this intriguing documentary we're presented with four portraits of transgenders living on Indonesia's Sulawesi island. Waria is a combination of the words wanita (woman) and pria (man), and in pre-Muslim times they were trusted caretakers of the king. None desire sex-change operations, believing they were created as men and must ultimately return to God as men. The most compelling story is that of Mama Ria, a waria in her fifties who has been a policeman's second wife for 18 years. One memorable scene shows her strolling arm in arm with the first wife during a family outing at a water park. Over the course of the film we sadly watch her marriage come to an end, despite recent plastic surgery to improve her looks. The other warias are Suharni, a hairdresser who leaves her boyfriend to earn money in Bali; Agus, a husband and father who struggles with the desire to return to the waria way of life; and Tiara, an exuberant showgirl and beauty pageant trainer. (Seen and reviewed for the SF International Asian American Film Festival.)
The Advocate for Fagdom (France, dir. Angélique Bosio)—I've been a fan of Canadian provocateur Bruce La Bruce ever since No Skin Off My Ass singed my brain at Frameline almost 20 years ago. This new doc gave me a much needed refresher course. It'll also work well as a primer for newcomers to Mr. La B's cinema of queer punk aesthetics, revolutionary politics, hardcore sex and boredom. Things kick off with etymologic musings on the La Bruce name (a 1930's gay arsonist?!), moving on to his early years as a 'zine-ster and cable TV talk show hostess. All of his films get touched upon with judicious clips and weigh-ins from the likes of Gus Van Sant, Harmony Korine and ever eloquent John Waters. (Is it truly a documentary these days if Waters doesn't appear in it?) We're given peeks into La Bruce's personal life; a visit to his family's farm, an interview with his Cuban refugee husband. The doc ends with a stimulating discussion of his filmic use of hardcore sex—he was one of the first and is still one of the few. While not officially listed as an expected guest for this screening, La Bruce is scheduled to appear the following night for his latest outrage, L.A. Zombie. I'd be surprised if he didn't show up for this as well.
Cho Dependent (USA, dir. Lorene Machado)—The appeal of this straight-up, no frills concert film— miscategorized by Frameline as a narrative feature—will depend entirely on whether you think Margaret Cho is funny. More often than not, I do. Filmed in Atlanta, our SF homegirl riffs on her Dancing with the Stars stint ("I had the most pronounced camel toe"), Steven Slater ("the Nelson Mandela of flight attendants") and the supremacy of gaydom ("If you're a gay man, you're probably near the end of your reincarnation cycle"). Some routines about bodily functions drone on and on. The title comes from Cho's Grammy-nominated album of comic songs, several of which she performs here. A C&W number reveals an impressive singing voice and a rap ("My Puss") delivered with her mother's unmistakable inflection is a scream. Due to a scheduling conflict, Cho will not be at the screening to receive the Frameline Award being bestowed upon her this year. Director Lorene Machado, however, will be on hand.
The 35th anniversary edition of the Frameline SF International LGBT Film Festival launched on Thursday, June 16 and continues right up through Gay Pride Day on Sunday, June 26. I've had the chance to preview 14 films from the line-up: the eight narrative features below and six documentaries I've placed in a separate entry. All were seen on DVD screener and where applicable I've noted any special guests that are expected to attend the screenings.
These 14 capsule reviews represent only a fraction of the 80 feature films Frameline will show this year, so if you haven't already done so, check out my extensive overview of the line-up. Films I look forward to seeing during the festival itself include Absent, Old Cats, Madame X, The Mouth of the Wolf, Miwa: A Japanese Icon, Daniel Schmid—Le chat qui pense, Shut Up Little Man! An Audio Adventure and The Queen Has No Crown. Finally, in a year when the sheer number of transgender films warranted a special Transgender Film Focus in the festival, it was interesting to note that both my favorite narrative feature (Tomboy) and my favorite documentary (Angel) each explore transgender themes.
Tomboy (France, dir. Céline Sciamma)—It's the summer before 4th grade and Laure's family has moved to a new town. When a potential playmate mistakes her for a boy, athletic Laure plays along and becomes Mikael to all the neighborhood kids—a charade that's kept hidden from her parents until just before the start of school. This complex and intelligent tale about gender identity won a jury prize at this year's Berlin Film Festival and it's now one of my favorite films of the year. Writer/director Sciamma has fashioned a heartfelt, matter-of-fact look at a difficult subject without a single dramatic false note or emotional misstep. Her job was no doubt made easier by actress Zoé Héran, on whose young face we can already read the anxiety of being trapped in the wrong body and the exhilaration of being temporarily freed from it.
Weekend (UK, dir. Andrew Haigh)—Two British gay men hook up on a Friday night—one a reserved, semi-closeted lifeguard and the other an art gallery worker who pushes his sexuality in people's faces. Over the course of 48 hours fueled by alcohol, drugs, sex and a lot of talking, the pair forges the kind of accelerated intimacy that would seem the sole province of gay men. In this remarkable narrative feature debut, director Haigh conveys in small steps how it's possible for two different and imperfect people to move toward something better than themselves. And far from being the claustrophobic two-hander I expected, the film wisely takes time to open up and observe our protagonists interacting with the outside world. Haigh, whose hustler documentary Greek Pete was a highlight of Frameline33, is expected to be present at Weekend's screening.
Leave It on the Floor (USA, dir. Sheldon Larry)—The world of urban ballroom culture depicted in Jennie Livingston's 1991 documentary Paris is Burning—think voguing, throwing shade and schoolboy realness—is given the full-blown movie musical treatment in this ambitious contempo L.A. updating. Our enrée into this milieu is Brad, a gay teen who leaves home and finds acceptance and mucho d-r-a-m-a living in the House of Eminence, a commune of competitive drag queen castaways ruled by the no-nonsense Queef Latina. The songs, which range from hyper-choreographed production numbers (the show-stopping "Justin's Gonna Call") to aching ballads ("It's Just Black Love") mostly do what songs in a musical should do—amplify emotions and propel the story forward. I have a feeling this will be the uproarious screening of Frameline35, given its vibe and prime Friday night slot during Pride weekend. The film's director and four of its actors will be there as well.
L.A. Zombie (USA/France/Germany, dir. Bruce La Bruce)—Ghoul-ed out French porn star François Sagat wanders a desolate urban landscape and screws the marginalized dead back to life with his big, prosthetic zombie dick. The grand surprise is that all this is quite touching, silly and disgusting in equal measure. There's no dialogue to speak of—unusual for La Bruce, a director known for characters that rarely stop yammering. The resulting aural void gets filled by ambient sound and an effective electro/classical score. Working with longtime DP James Carman, this is La Bruce's most visually accomplished film to date and much of their color-heightened imagery is haunting and gorgeous. Still, I missed the politics, snotty humor and raggedness of the provocateur's previous work. Monsieur La Bruce, a longtime Frameline habitué, is scheduled to attend the screening.
A Few Days of Respite (Algeria/France, dir. Amor Hakkar)—Moshen and Hassan are cross-generational gay lovers fleeing Iran. En route to Paris they get waylaid in a French village where the older Moshen becomes fatefully entangled with a lonely widow. Oddly, the men are given no backstory and speak to each other in French instead of Farsi. Events which might have played out believably over the course of a week's time raise red flags of implausibility when crammed into the narrative's two-day time frame. Still, the story is not uninteresting and the film manages a quiet grace despite the clunkiness. And there's certainly no faulting its humanist intentions. Performances are solid, with Samir Guesmi, a French-Arab actor seen in recent films by Rachid Bouchareb and Arnaud Desplechin playing younger Hassan and director Hakkar taking on the role of Moshen.
Three (Germany, dir. Tom Tykwer)—A shaggy art engineer says farewell to his "deterministic understanding of biology" when he embarks on an affair with a rugged bisexual stem cell researcher in Tom Tykwer's (Run Lola Run) first German language film in 10 years. Complicating matters is the researcher's simultaneous fling with a tightly-wound talk show hostess who has been the engineer's romantic partner for 20 years. No one knows that the other two sides of the triangle are getting it on. Throw in multiple split-screens, graphic testicular surgery, metaphysical goings-on, interpretive dance and athletic camera movements and it all adds up to something fairly uneven and incohesive upon first viewing—especially on DVD screener. Tykwer, a multi-level operator and strong visualist, certainly deserves the big screen experience for which the Castro Theatre is so well suited.
Codependent Lesbian Space Alien Seeks Same (USA dir. Madeleine Olinek)—Frameline35's best-titled flick is a potentially terrific short stretched into a feature-length film of modest appeal. At its heart is the relationship between a dowdy stationary store worker and an intergalactic gal who's been sent to earth to have her heart broken. Parallel stories of two fellow femme space travelers go underdeveloped and a painful subplot about private detectives repeatedly grinds the film to a halt. At its best, CLSASS possesses a sweet charm, nifty low-fi art direction and some genuine chuckles. Director Olinek and three of the film's actors plan to attend the screening.
Kawa (New Zealand, dir. Katie Wolfe)—A handsome, well-to-do Maori husband and father struggles with coming out just as he's about to assume leadership of the family clan in this adaptation of Witi Ihimaera's (Whale Rider) semi-autobiographical novel, "Nights in the Garden of Spain." While it features several effective performances, the rote direction and stiltedly earnest script are the stuff of low-end cable TV dramas. (The saintly wife reacts to news of her husband's homosexuality by running to the bathroom and throwing up). I can recommend this as having some cultural interest—but barely. Author Ihimaera is expected to attend the screening.
By the time Frameline34's Closing Night film unspooled on Gay Pride Day, everyone seemed to agree it had been the organization's best festival in years. I'm not sure I concur, simply because imho the fest has been on a high for some time now. Or maybe I've just gotten good at sniffing out stuff I'll like, to the exclusion of what might work my last gay nerve. This year's films ranged from the frequently sublime to the occasionally unremarkable, but mileage varies and even those lesser works found receptive audiences. All told, I saw 34 programs—18 of them prior to the festival at press screenings, other festivals and on DVD screener. Here are some highlights of those I watched during Frameline34 proper.
We Were Here: Voices from the AIDS Years in San Francisco—If you caught the sneak preview of David Weissman's powerful new documentary, the experience no doubt overshadowed whatever else you might have seen during the 11-day festival. It proved to be unbearably cathartic for some, and anguished sobs could be heard emanating from all parts of the nearly sold-out Castro Theater. The film reflects back to a time—can it really be almost 30 years ago—when a disease turned this city into a war zone and the LGBT community rallied to care for its own. Weissman wisely chose to tell this story from the POV of five who were on the front lines, rather than through a multitude of voices. It received perhaps the longest Castro Theater standing ovation I've witnessed in 35 years, and afterwards Weissman had the audience sit in meditative silence before beginning the Q&A. The version we saw is still being tweaked, which is perhaps why the Frameline34 screening was a "sneak preview" rather than a premiere. It seemed pretty damn near perfect to me.
The Topp Twins: Untouchable Girls—My hat goes off to whoever programmed this documentary about yodeling lesbian twins from New Zealand immediately after We Were Here. It served as a counteractive tonic to the previous film's intensity, and was almost more fun than a festival screening has a right to be. Singer-comedian-activists Jools and Lynda Topp took to the Castro stage and kicked things off with a rousing, foot-stomping Maori welcoming song, and later returned to give the audience yodeling lessons. In between we were treated to Leanne Pooley's exceptionally well made and inspirational doc.
Sex, Leather Jackets and Cigarettes—I attended Yale film professor Ron Gregg's informative Frameline lecture, Gay Aesthetics and Iconography in the Films of Andy Warhol, which primed me for that same evening's program of two Warhol shorts and one near-feature, Vinyl. The latter is a tortured and rambling low-rent interpretation of Anthony Burgess' A Clockwork Orange, but it features a sock-o mid-section in which Warhol Factory beauty Gerard Malanga dances a furious frug to Martha and the Vandellas' "Nowhere to Hide." The song ends and then immediately begins again, Malanga dancing with even wilder abandon in the second go-round. Meanwhile, too-cool-for-school Edie Sedgwick does a seductive, sit-down dance off to the side. I just loved seeing this on a big screen in 16mm. In the YouTube clip below, fast-forward to the 3:30 mark for the dance, or watch from the beginning to see how that segment radically contrasts with the rest of the movie.
I Killed My Mother—I was wowed by this film when I first saw it at the Palm Springs International Film Festival, and feared the disappointment a second viewing might bring. But nothing doing. Watching it again with a packed, queer audience at the Castro, in lush 35mm, only convinced me that this brutally hilarious and touching tale of an uber-dysfunctional mother-son relationship is the most auspicious debut by a teenage powerhouse writer/director/actor in like … forever. Bravo Monsieur Xavier Dolan! Regent Releasing has picked this up for U.S. distribution and if we're lucky it'll be in theaters soon.
The Consul of Sodom—For close to 25 years, my friend and fellow Frameline fanatic Carlo and I have used the euphemism "masterpiece" to describe any non-porn film that contains full-frontal male nudity. If we say it in a loud, emphatic voice, it means there was also at least one erect penis. We both agreed that The Consul of Sodom was a MASTERPIECE! Genitalia aside, the film is a smart and passionate portrayal of Catalan poet Jaime Gil de Biedma, a gay man of privilege who fought to live an uncompromised life during a time a great repression. Michael Guillén has written eloquently about the film previously on The Evening Class.
On These Shoulders We Stand; William S. Burroughs: A Man Within—Although they pretty much stick to a talking heads and archival materials template, I appreciated these docs for the information they imparted. Most people are familiar with the history of LGBT rights in New York and San Francisco—but Los Angeles? Now I know all about L.A.'s "masquerading" law that was used to persecute both male and female cross-dressers, as well as the infamous 1968 police raid on The Patch bar. The film features some amazing old photos, several of which tend to get overused. What struck me about the Burroughs doc was its emphasis on the man's influence on punk rock. We get interviews with Patti Smith, Jello Biafra, Iggy Pop and best of all, video footage of a Sonic Youth pilgrimage to Burroughs' Kansas home. The true topper, however, is an audio clip of Burroughs singing Marlene Dietrich's "Falling in Love Again," in German!
Howl—Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman's new film about Allen Ginsberg was much better than expected, at least when compared to the tepid reviews it received from Sundance and Berlin. The film's three distinctive strands don't always mesh, but the animated poem is glorious, the obscenity trial is engaging and James Franco gives the Ginsberg portrayal his all. This was Frameline34's closing night film and it was really neat seeing Franco grace the Castro Theater stage for the second time in less than a year.
Spring Fever—This film from Chinese director Lou Ye got universally crummy reviews at Cannes 2009, before shocking the naysayers with a prize for Best Screenplay. I found myself completely caught up during its first third—a vibrant and sexy look at modern urban Chinese living modern lives, with a multi-sexual ménage à quatre at its core. Then it got bogged down in a bunch of strained, unconvincing melodramatics that made me fear, as did Lou's previous film Summer Palace, that the damn thing might never ever end. And maybe I'm misreading, but Spring Fever appears to say some disturbing things about the poisonous effect gays have on the lives of straights. I expected Lou Ye to be cooler than that. Still, I'm grateful to Frameline for showing it—especially in 35mm—and letting me judge for myself.
As Cindy Emch has written for the festival catalog, Remember Me In Red honors the chosen family and community of Latino queers in this tale of "a closely-knit group of transwomen who band together to weather a tragedy." She synopsizes the film: "Emotions run high as Fidelia is arranging her best friend Alma's funeral, only to have Alma's parents arrive from Mexico and insist that their son be buried as male. Alma's friends pull together to honor both the parents' wishes and those of Alma herself."
In its commendable simplicity, Remember Me In Red reminded me of a comment made by B. Ruby Rich at her Frameline30 address on the "genderation gap" wherein she inferred that transgender narratives revolve around the revelation of an anatomical secret. It likewise struck me as the inverted equation of Joao Pedro Rodrigues' To Die Like A Man. The vested choice of that Portuguese film belies the compromise struck in Remember Me In Red where the corpse of Alma is first laid out dressed as a man for the memorial service attended by family, only to later be transformed by Alma's chosen community into her authentic visage: beautiful and dressed in red.
I am further reminded of a comment made by Fran Lebowitz in James Rasin's engaging documentary Beautiful Darling: The Life and Times of Candy Darling, Andy Warhol Superstar (2010)—Frameline's Centerpiece documentary—that, admittedly, agitated me. Considering Candy Darling, Lebowitz queried why any man would want to give up his "winning hand" to become a woman? Ceballos' Remember Me In Red may not answer that hypothetical but it certainly revolves around the discrimination faced by transwomen in their choice to both live and die as women.
Finally, I bear in mind a comment made by Jed Bell at the Riot Acts screening earlier this week wherein he celebrated transgender narratives that shifted away from victimization. With regard to that creative transition, Remember Me In Red articulates its way through discrimination and suggests the celebratory transgender narratives yet to come.
Despite some laugh-outloud one-liners and sitcom vignettes, Grown Up Movie Star (2009)[official site] is a wholly uneven film whose less-than-credible narrative achieves a measure of traction through some credible performances, most notably Tatiana Maslany (who won a Special Jury prize at the 2010 Sundance Film Festival). Her characterization of out-of-control teenager Ruby smolders and glints with what Pam Grady has described as a "precocious but extremely naïve" sexuality. But for as much as this film wants to explore the minefield of a young girl's sexual awakening, it ends up being more farce than fact, and more abusive than affectionate. This is certainly not a film to argue a case for gay parenting. Doe-eyed Shawn Doyle, who plays Ruby's dad Ray, negotiates an internalized homophobia through one note—which is first loud, then louder—and though I can appreciate director Adriana Maggs' narrative device of aligning Ruby's sexual awakening alongside her father's, I'm left ambivalent by how they both act out, hurting themselves and all those around them. How can you like people like this? It's made problematic only because, at heart, I believe Maggs hopes we will like them.
As Jason Alexander writes for Eye Weekly: "The final reel's pile-up of clumsy contrivances and teary heart-to-hearts undermines the raw verve of the best scenes, such that the film's riskiest moments end up seeming sensationalistic." Jillian Butler, writing for The House Next Door, writes that the film relies "too readily on the forgiving nature of a family's bond" even as she contextualizes the film within Newfoundland's cinematic output and its wisdom in weighing "the afflictions that haunt all small towns: narrow minded neighbors, wasted potential and bored misbehavior." John Anderson nails it at Variety: "Maggs impresses less with her Newfoundland story than with her handling of actors. Scenes between two or more characters ... possess an effortless grace and realism."
Along with Maslany's breakout performance, the boyfriends are winning. I enjoyed the supporting turns of Mark O'Brien as Ruby's American boyfriend Will and Steve Cochrane as Ray's love interest. As Ray's crippled best friend Stuart, Jonny Harris likewise has some beautifully nuanced moments but his performance is hobbled by absurd scriptural demands. When Ruby's younger sister Rose (Julia Kennedy) shows up at his door wanting her headshots taken, and he follows through by photographing her in provocative positions, it destroys any sympathy you might have felt for Stuart's frustration, renders him criminally ridiculous, and launches these unfortunate events into a melodramatic stratosphere best suited for mid-afternoon television.
The film's Frameline audience accepted the film's California premiere with open arms, however, and director Maggs and her leading actor Doyle took to the Castro stage to engage them. Commenting on the Castro's huge auditorium, Doyle remarked: "We're honored and very happy to be here tonight. This is a little tiny movie we made in northern Canada about a year and two or three months ago on a shoestring budget, literally in the cold, and we dragged our asses back and forth between sets whenever the weather gave us a break and the fact that we've had such a success with the movie and that we're here today is really special for us."
Asked how Maggs secured Shawn Doyle for the role of Ray and what it was about the role that attracted him, Maggs responded that she suckered him into doing the film because Doyle is originally from Newfoundland. A smattering of applause from the audience caused Doyle to shout out if there were Newfoundlanders in the crowd. "Frankly, for me," Doyle answered, "I read a bunch of scripts on both sides of the border—I live in L.A. right now—and the script was one of the best scripts I've ever read. Adriana's themes were well explored but at the same time the humor really jumped off the page and had a kind of authenticity that I remember from my youth in Newfoundland. Often times in Canada our films try to be too many things—too universal to appeal to places other than Canada—and I felt Grown Up Movie Star was specific to where it's from. As soon as I read it, I was on board.
"What was challenging to me about the role was that I've never played a Newfoundlander before. I have to tell you, I was really scared to go back and do it. I've been offered a number of films back in Newfoundland. I'm not sure if there are areas in the States that have a similar kind of issue; but—once you leave Newfoundland—you're branded as someone who's left. You're out. You become, like, grand and you've moved on somewhere else. It's a betrayal. I had a lot of fear over the years about going back to do anything and trying to portray a Newfoundlander and feeling as if I would be an imposter. So, first and foremost, there was that. The notion that we all have things inside that we can't communicate to other people and that we all feel locked inside our own prisons, whatever they are—obviously this was one particular thing—that was just very resonant with me.
"To be candid with a bunch of gay men in the audience here, I've played a number of gay characters in the past; but, for some reason, I was really nervous about some of these scenes. As I shot them, they were no big deal to do obviously, and I was doing them with the director's husband; her boyfriend at the time. I realized I had focused all the fear I had of coming back and trying to be a Newfoundlander in front of this Newfoundland crew into the notion of playing these scenes."
As for casting 24-year-old Tatiana Maslany in her award-winning turn as Ruby, Maggs mentioned that Doyle had worked with her on a previous film and recommended her. Maslany was the only one in the cast who was not a Newfoundlander; but, when she was auditioning, Maggs was amazed with how Maslany "used every corner of the room." She regretted that the actress could not be with them for the Castro screening but she was filming in Morocco, playing the role of Mary. Maggs wondered if she used her performance in Grown Up Movie Star as an audition reel for that role? Doyle added: "We had really wanted to cast the role locally and Adriana had a very specific idea of what that character should be; but, at the end of the day, that's an incredibly huge role for someone to take on. You need a brilliant actor. You need someone that has a tool box that can spring the full range of what's required. It was really clear that we had to hire an actor as opposed to casting an authentic Newfoundlander."
As for the audience's ear adjusting to the film's thick Newfoundlander accents, Maggs observed that Maslany certainly didn't have that accent and, for that matter, most young people in Newfoundlander no longer have that accent because they're a YouTube generation who have watched too much American television. When they were auditioning young women for the role of Ruby, they asked them to do the Newfoundland accent and most of them couldn't, even though they'd been raised there. In their pursuit of acting careers, most of them have endeavored to lose their accents. The older generation, however, have definitely retained this strong accent influenced by the Irish. Maggs quipped that they try to use the accent in Canada; otherwise, they can't get hired.
Maggs was complimented on exploring a young girl's sexual awakening without relying on on-screen nudity, and she confirmed that she never wanted to make a film about a teen exploring her sexuality while exploiting a young actress. "That's so easy to do," she complained, "you could make the movie horrifying if you wanted to; but, I was more interested in exploring the psychological truths of the situation and not, y'know, boobs."
When I grow up, I want to write like Dennis Harvey. His recent Frameline preview for the San Francisco Bay Guardian and its attendant focus on gay body image issues is a thoroughly enjoyable read and I loved this quip: "Frameline34—so old! who'd sleep with that?!"
Dennis likewise profiles the Warhol sidebar in a piece for SF360.
This year's edition of Frameline, the world's oldest and largest LGBT film festival, is set to kick off this Thursday, June 17 and will run until Pride Day on Sunday, June 27. Venues include the Castro, Roxie and Victoria Theaters in San Francisco as well as the Rialto Cinemas Elmwood in Berkeley. Here are capsule write-ups of 10 films I've previewed on DVD screener (except where noted), followed by a quick overview of several more.
Elvis and Madona (Brazil, dir. Marcelo Laffitte)—Certain to be one of Frameline34's biggest crowd-pleasers is this charmer about the unlikely romance between a dyke pizza delivery girl and a transvestite beautician. Elvis delivers a pizza on the fateful night Madona's boyfriend, "Tripod" João, robs her of the life savings she's squirreled away for staging a super-spectacular Copacabana drag show. Elvis, who's also an aspiring photographer, is instantly enamored of Madona and offers to shoot her publicity stills. Next thing you know, Elvis is pregnant by Madona and the drug-dealing João is in jail because of an incriminating Elvis-snapped newsphoto. Will Madona make one more porno with João to finance her show? Will Elvis forgive her for it? Will the menacing João kill them both? Not if the girls at the beauty parlor have anything to say about it. Effortlessly fun with flawless lead performances and colorful art direction, I won't be surprised if this takes the festival's audience award.
Plan B (Argentina, dir. Marco Berger)—After getting dumped by his girlfriend, scruffy slacker Bruno plans to get her back by seducing Pablo, her soft-spoken rumored-to-be-bisexual new boyfriend. It's a shaky premise requiring a heap of viewer patience, as the story twists its way through murky motivations and psychosexual machinations. It's two steps forward and one step back, as the guys develop a mutual Man Crush, but then repeatedly retreat to hetero safety. In other words, you'll be tearing your hair out right up until the end, wondering if they're gonna "do it." Sweet, smart and sexy, this film is everything last year's similarly-themed, infantile U.S. indie Humpday was not. One caveat—Plan B's narrative is strangely punctuated by still shots of desolate industrial landscapes. These aren't uninteresting in and of themselves and are perhaps meant to reflect the characters' internal something-or-other. But they're unnecessary and may prove to be the proverbial straw for some exasperated viewers. (Seen at the 2010 Palm Springs International Film Festival.)
Beautiful Darling: The Life and Times of Candy Darling, Andy Warhol Superstar (USA, dir. James Rasin)—This lovely and moving portrait is a swell addition to the pantheon of documentaries about those who've been immortally name-checked in Lou Reed's "Walk on the Wild Side." In the back room at Max's Kansas City, Candy was everybody's darlin'; the smart, witty and gorgeous blonde transvestite who saw herself as a throwback to a Hollywood studio system that didn't quite translate into the world of New York underground cinema. Rasin's film incorporates a wealth of archival materials, plus interviews with suspects both usual (John Waters, Holly Woodlawn, Paul Morrissey) and unexpected (Fran Lebowitz, Michael Pollard, Julie Newmar) to understand both Darling and the era in which her star burned. The film is equally about one Jeremiah Newton, who as a young man was Darling's closest friend and confidant. After her death from lymphoma at age 29, Newton had the forethought to tape audio interviews with practically everyone who ever knew her, including Tennessee Williams who had starred her in his off-Broadway play "Small Craft Warnings." These interviews, along with letters, diaries (both lovingly voiced by Chloe Sevigny) and other ephemera Newton rescued from Darling's childhood home, occupy a big chunk of the film. Newton also became the keeper of Candy's ashes, and we watch as he places them in the burial plot he'll eventually join her in. Newton is expected to attend the Frameline screening, along with director Rasin and my personal fave Warhol superstar, Holly Woodlawn, herself long overdue for the feature documentary treatment already accorded Jackie, Joe and now Candy.
Dzi Croquettes (Brazil dir. Tatiana Issa, Raphael Alvarez)—For some, they were the first manifestation of a gay movement in Brazil, and to others they were a catalyst for ending that country's military dictatorship. This extraordinary and inspiring documentary recounts Dzi Croquettes' spectacular rise and fall as Brazil's preeminent ragtag-drag troupe of musical performance artists. Initially inspired by San Francisco's own Cockettes, they would surpass them both creatively and professionally—thanks in large part to the contribution of celebrated American dancer/choreographer/singer Lenny Dale. My favorite part of the film details their conquest of Europe, for which they set sail with two tons of costumes and three kilograms of marijuana hidden in rubber balls. Through the efforts of Liza Minnelli, they became the toast of Paris with the likes of Jeanne Moreau, Omar Sharif and Catherine Deneuve flocking to their shows. The directors had a dizzying amount of archival footage to work with, but unfortunately only five of the 13 original members are still around to recount their adventures. That responsibility falls upon several key characters instrumental to the scene, including Nega Wilma, the black woman who ruled the troupe's unruly São Paulo commune with a whip and a water hose. Oddly, Frameline has relegated the lone screening of this marvelous doc to an 11:00AM Monday time slot. If you can catch it, it'll be worth it. (Seen at the 2010 Palm Springs International Film Festival.)
Uncle Bob (USA, dir. Robert Oppel)—Each year at Frameline there's a biographical documentary I like to file under "who knew?" In 1974, 36 million people watched Robert Opel streak by David Niven during the Oscars telecast. Thirty-six years later, Opel's nephew has made this tribute to his Uncle Bob—photographer, performance artist, theatrical producer (Divine's The Heartbreak of Psoriasis) and gallery owner (S.F.'s Fey-Way Gallery, one of the first in the country to exhibit Robert Mapplethorpe and Tom of Finland). Opel was murdered in his gallery in 1979 under extremely sketchy circumstances. To put it mildly, his nephew has long been obsessed with that event, and we see footage of him at age 13 conducting a mock murder trial. While the doc does a fine job at preserving Opel's legacy, it's equally about the nephew/director grasping for catharsis and proving himself a chip off the block. That becomes both the film's greatest weakness and its greatest strength.
The String (France/Belgium, dir. Medhi Ben Attia)—The last person I expected to find in a Frameline film was 72-year-old Italian screen legend Claudia Cardinale (8½, The Pink Panther). Yet there she is, resplendent as a Tunisian matriarch adjusting to the return from Europe of her arrogant, gay architect son. In the film's two loveliest moments she recalls her rebelliousness as a Catholic girl marrying into an Arab family, and dances with her son's male lover on the son's wedding day to a lesbian family friend he's impregnated so that she and her girlfriend can have a baby. Yes, you read that right. The most interesting element of this film is its portrait of an Arab society that seemingly co-exists with lesbian moms, gay sons who bed their mother's handyman, booze, discos, poppers and rough trade assignations in abandoned buildings. One keeps waiting for a violent, fundamentalist retribution to arrive. Happily, it doesn't. Otherwise, the Tunisian scenery is splendid, the titular metaphor is a bit creaky and the appearance of French-Arab actor Salim Kéchiouche (Criminal Lovers, Grand école) as the son's love interest is most welcome.
The Sea Purple (Italy, dir. Donatella Maiorca)—Purple is the perfect color to describe this outlandish, but highly watchable gender-bending melodrama set in 19th century Sicily. The plot is too convoluted—I mean complex—to recount here (the Frameline capsule does an excellent job), except to say that it involves two young women who are permitted to marry because of a bizarre set of circumstances. The script lays the drama on thick—bound breasts, a baby fetus in a jar, a blackmailed priest, imprisonment, drownings, beatings, death by childbirth, gender illusion—and it's all allegedly "inspired by a true story." Lots of handheld camera and a partial electro-rock score give it a contemporary feel, and the whole affair is handsomely photographed. Gay guys looking to see at least one lesbian feature in the festival should check it out—half-naked Sicilian quarry workers abound.
From Beginning to End (Brazil/Argentina/Spain dir. Aluízio Abranches)—If the Lifetime Channel were to make a weirdly idyllic, R-rated movie about incest between two hunky, privileged Brazilian half-brothers, it might come off something like this. Born six years apart to different fathers, Francisco and Thomas sail through childhood despite concerns that their relationship is "too intimate." Two out of three parents get abruptly bumped off mid-film, leaving the smitten siblings, now young adults, to unashamedly do their thing. "To understand our love they'd need to turn the world upside down," they opine. After much anguish, the younger bro is sent off to Russia (?!) for three years of Olympic training. Wedding rings are exchanged and we're asked to believe they remain chaste throughout the separation. What makes this overwrought affair watchable are the performances of Rafael Cardoso and João Gabriel Vasconcellos, who are smokin' hot and 100% convincing as half-brothers obsessively in love with each other.
The Sisters (Austria, dir. Manfred Hoschek)—Until the definitive Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence documentary comes along, this one will do nicely. Highlights include a peek inside the Sisters' San Francisco archives, plus footage of the Union Square exorcism of Pope John Paul II performed during a 1987 Bay Area papal visit. Sisters from Germany, Uruguay and of course, San Francisco (the fabulous Sister Dana and Sister Vicious Power Hungry Bitch) get profiled, while the bulk of the film spotlights the group's 2009 thirtieth anniversary celebration in Dolores Park. Even at a short 74 minutes, however, there's still too much extraneous material here. I could have easily done without all the shopping trips for beauty products. The film's post-script apologizes to those Sisters left out of the doc, which would include infamous Sister Boom Boom—a former S.F. mayoral candidate who converted to Islam in 2001.
Baby Jane? HR (USA dir. Billy Clift)—I prepped for this locally produced drag parody/remake by watching Robert Aldrich's 1962 original for the first time in 20 years. The sublime art direction belies the film's low-budget and the script is dotted with clever send-ups of its source material. Jane warbles "I've Scribbled a Postcard to Daddy," Bette/Joan movie titles get name-checked in the dialogue, and best of all, the part of nosy neighbor Mrs. Bates has been amplified to accommodate the talents of SF drag impresario Heklina. Unfortunately, the overall result is kind of flat, which will likely go unnoticed by an amped-up Frameline audience. Knock back a few pre-screening beers to get in the mood.
Quick Takes
I can heartily recommend Frameline34's Opening Night film (The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister), an absorbing British TV biopic about an 18th century landowning lesbian whose lusty, coded diaries were recently decrypted. I was equally taken by the fest's Centerpiece Film (Undertow), a poignant, metaphysically-tinged Sundance prize-winner from Peru about a life-changing love between a married fisherman and a vacationing artist. Both were screened for journalists at the Castro following the festival's press conference a few weeks back. Back in January I caught two of last year's most acclaimed LGBT films at the Palm Springs International Film Festival and was impressed by both. Nineteen-year-old French-Canadian Xavier Dolan wrote, directed and stars in I Killed My Mother, a scabrously funny and ultimately touching mother-son verbal slugfest, which I'm dying to see again at the Castro. The other is Eyes Wide Open, a compelling Israeli film about the clandestine love shared between a married, ultra-Orthodox Jerusalem butcher and the young man he takes on as an apprentice. At that same festival, I was less impressed with Brotherhood, a Danish gay-neo-Nazis-in-love movie that comes off as pure exploitation. Finally, I previewed two more films on DVD screener. Sasha is a fairly contrived My Big Fat Balkan Coming Out about a piano student madly in love with his teacher, which nonetheless makes some interesting observations about generational conflict in immigrant families. Then there's Norway's The Man Who Loved Yngve, a messy, directionless love story about confused teens in the 1980s.
The intersection of queer and punk is both broad and well-traveled and so it stands to reason that there are quite a few films representing same at this year's Frameline. I previewed a few of the more punk and punk-leaning docs appearing in the festival this year and a few selections stood above the rest.
The first of these, Miwa: A Japanese Icon, is certainly less "punk" per se but nonetheless guided by a spirit of resistance and irreverence that is punk's hallmark. The French-made doc candidly (and a bit cheekily) presents Akihiro Miwa (Miwa to his fans) as a sort of elder statesman of Japanese queerdom. In contrast to his frequent, often catty Japanese daytime TV persona, Miwa appears charming, subdued, and composed, recalling his life and successes from one of the ornate thrones that apparently populate his home. Japan during pre-modern periods held no stigma against homosexuality, according to Miwa and the film's historians; prevailing attitudes were introduced after the war when European interests began to hold sway in a Japan striving for modernization. Recognized nationally as the nation's only "out" homosexual in post-war Japan for some time, Miwa became a focal point for the country's gay community in exile.
Though the doc pays ample attention to fetching glossies of the actor and musician as a young man and duly covers the circumstances of his childhood, the film's focus lies with the evolution of the Japanese cinematic landscape throughout which Miwa's career is woven, beginning with his role in the rise of exploitation master Kinji Fukasaku, who directed an iconic turn in Black Lizard at Miwa's request. Edogawa Rampo's novel Black Lizard was adapted for the screen by Japanese literary royalty Yukio Mishima, whose unfaltering—and unrequited—admiration jumpstarted Miwa's career. Miwa also made appearances in the radical protest films of Shūji Terayama during the 1970s, a spate of voice acting done for anime legend Hayao Miyazaki, and—in a somewhat less concrete moment—an affiliation with Takeshi Kitano from both his saloon days and the present. Miwa's ability to remain active in Japan's filmic culture for all these years coupled with his unwavering acceptance by modern Japanese as an icon of glamour and femininity can only lead one to wonder what the American landscape would look like if intolerance to homosexuality was a footnote in our culture, instead of a hallmark.
Hit So Hard is one of the better docs of the mid-90s grunge scene, framed by out lesbian Patty Schemel, long-suffering drummer of Hole and friend of Kurt Cobain. This kinetic doc captures the fever-dream rush of the band's massive success and the chaos following the death of Cobain, featuring the requisite footage of Courtney Love's unhinged personality and genuinely charming home videos that reveal better times. Despite her inevitable fall from favor around the release of the band's third album and the struggle with addiction that fills out the second half of the doc, Schemel appears older and wiser here, but no worse for wear. Those with an interest in the machinations of major-label music industry will find a good deal to chew on here.
Those who find Hit So Hard a little too soft and cuddly will find the ante upped significantly in Lilly Scourtis Ayers' Last Fast Ride: The Life, Love and Death Of A Punk Goddess, which—although not exploitative—can't help but rough us up a little as it presents the life of Marian Anderson, front singer for Insaints and Thrill Killers, whose on-stage antics led to a trial for obscenity and off-stage antics eventually led to her death by heroin overdose in 2001. Though much of her life was spent elsewhere, Marian's life is inextricably wrapped in Bay Area lore—she grew up a troubled teen in Modesto, later moving to the city where she lived in squats, occasionally working as a dominatrix at Fantasy Makers (still a standby in the Berkeley S&M scene), and running through a series of local legends, including Tim Yohannan, founder of Berkeley posi-punk cornerstone 924 Gilman Street and punk mag Maximum RocknRoll, which published both the Insaints albums and J.D.s' notorious queercore provocation "Don't Be Gay", before settling into a tumultuous long term relationship with Danielle Bernal, a self-described "butch dyke" and one of Last Fast Ride's central personalities.
Although it wasn't available for preview, a compendium of this year's more "punk" offerings would be incomplete without mention of Shut Up Little Man: An Audio Misadventure, the subject of which has inspired (and been sampled by) artists as far ranging as John Zorn, Nirvana and comic author Daniel Clowes. The classic taped rantings of an alcoholic odd couple have been touted by a variety of sources as visible as Spin and as underground as your older sister's 'zine, since their appearance nearly 20 years ago, and only now are finally receiving the documentary treatment.
