Monday, December 25, 2023

Aske Bang | Ladyboy / 2011

refusing to put up with ‘everything’

by Douglas Messerli

 

Aske Bang (screenwriter and director) Ladyboy / 2011 [31 minutes]

 

Aske Bang’s Ladyboy begins with an intense scene of the transvestite singer, Kristain/Kristine (Casper Castello), who performs in a local gay bar with a band, getting fucked in a back storeroom of the bar, interrupted by the manager and bartender Rodney (Stanislav Sevcik), who reminds Kristine that she is soon due on stage.



     A moment later Kristine and her group are performing on their popular songs that begins “I know I’ve you sad and upset,” which might describe her life in relationship to several of her major supporters, including her mother Emma (Birthe Neumann), who despite her son’s constant transformation from male to female, not only supports him but actually enjoys her female-son companion as a confident. Rodney, despite the fact that Kristine consistently  ignores his tender advances, virtually ignores the genuine love which he offers.

    Kristine’s band which consists of male performers in female drag, strangely enough cannot be described as a drag-queen event. These are serious singers, performing moving and somewhat innovative songs that attracts an almost entirely female audience. Although the male performers are transvestites, the female audience appreciate them as a group who sing of their own experiences—a very different perspective of transvestite performance.

 

     At home, with his makeup on or off, Kristain and his mother share delight over female shoe adds and other such female things, without his mother necessarily ignoring him as a sis-male being. The relationship they have forged is a fairly gender free one without her denying him as being her son.   

    Meanwhile, back at the club Rodney encounters Kristian, alone, practicing a beautiful song he has written for his devoted mother, with lyrics such as “You’re an angel, like the sunshine on a rainy day,” which he truly appreciates. The gentleness with which he approaches his bar’s songwriter is truly touching.

      But Kristian seems quite obvious, as we see him in the very next scene with a full room of elderly woman as he accompanies his mother on her weekly Bingo game, Kristian appearing in full drag as Kristine, his mother protecting his from sneers of her peers. But Emma is also a bit alcoholic, returning after they adventure out in a condition that forces Kristian to undress his mother and put her to bed.


      But it at the that moment when she admits that she has met a man, a “real” man, a macho male Søren whom he first encounters as he showers, the elder entering the bathroom without knocking, proceeding to shit with self-commentary, and leave the room without washing his hands.

     That first meeting characterizes the feelings Kristian has for the truly heterosexual force that has suddenly entered his and his mother’s previously private life.

       His mother attributes his dislike of Søren to jealousy, but what she doesn’t realize is that his worries for her are quite genuine, particularly when he overhears her crying out in pain for his drunken and loutish behavior toward her one night. She protects him, however, as much as she has long protected her son.

       And it is clear in her suggestions for their first meetings that she prefers her son to appear before her new lover as Kristian rather than Kristine. When Søren, after being told that Kristian is in a band, comments that he’d love to hear him perform, Kristian commenting “Well, we’ll see.”

        Rodney again attempts to offer Kristian a ride home, but he makes an appointment for a late night appointment for sex in the park, which he describes as “fresh air,” Rodeny responding, “It sounds like a saucy date.” He offers Kristian some pepper spray just in case.

       The event itself ends terribly, with Kristine, being fucked by an unknown figure. But when walking back, she is attacked, the pepper spray proving ineffectual as she suffers several eye and cheek lacerations in a homophobic beating. His mother is more than sympathetic, offering him the love any such terrorized young transvestite might need, but the next morning at breakfast encountering the now live-in Søren, he describes it simply as a bicycle accident.

       Finally, she gets up the never to tell him that her son is a transvestite, but as in Geoff Burton and Kevin Dowling’s 1994 film, The Sum of Us, the outsider lover does not deal well with the news. As she attempts to explain why her son was beaten, Søren’s response is what you might imagine from a bigot: “What can you expect if you dress up in women’s clothes like an idiot?” Her only comment is “Søren, behave,” which immediately deflects in a comment about her own sexual attraction.

      Kristian’s band sings a song about how impossible it is to be “truly happy,” as Rodney once more attempts to care for the self-destructive friend, not only suggesting he take better care of himself but asking serious, “Aren’t you afraid of getting HIV?” He comments that “Those people are using you,” but Kristian’s replay is a fairly stupid response: “And I fully love it.”



     This time Rodney does drive Kristian home. But he arrives home nearly drunk without truly realizing his friend’s kindness. But returning home, he finally realizes that his mother is also being abused by her new boyfriend who gets violent when he’s drunk.

      Finally, he meets up with the new border as he is dressed full drag, who describes him as “Princess Mary.” But Kristian merely warns him that if he crosses the limit, there will be serious results.

       His mother continues insist, however, that he is a “good guy.” “He’s funny and I love him, and he loves me.”

       Kristian finally decides to as Rodney for a place to stay. Rodney is perfectly willing to put him up in his apartment, but the performer asks for a place in the bar, which we grudgingly allows.

Late at night, Rodney brings coffee for the now sleeping Kristian, out of drag, whom he lovingly wakes up. His love of the transgender figure is so clear that everyone can perceive but Kristian himself.

        When the next evening the man who fucked Kristian in the first scene attempts to get a second try, Kristian pushes him off.  As Kristian goes off to the men’s room, the abuser tries to follow, Rodney gathering a group of the band members to follow him into the bathroom who manage to pulverize the would-be stud.       

       Rodney finally makes clear to Kristian that “you shouldn’t put up with everything.”

      Upon his return home, Kristian hears his mother crying out from a severe being from the drunken Søren. This time Kristian enters, beats up the monster and throws him out of their home.

He has clearly stopped putting up with “everything.”

 


       In the last scene, Kristian sings the song he wrote for his mother, she in attendance. And Rodney finally tells his performer how much he loves him, that “he just likes to look at him,” Kristian realizing that love has been readily available for him all this while.

 

Los Angeles, December 25, 2023

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (December 2023).

Otoja Abit | A New York Christmas Wedding / 2020

watch out for angels

by Douglas Messerli

 

Otoja Abit (screenwriter and director) A New York Christmas Wedding / 2020 [TV Movie]

 

In Netflix’s 2020 Christmas TV movie offering, Jennifer Ortiz (Nia Fairweather, the younger Jennifer played by Camilla Harden) is about to marry the heir to a Fortune 500 company, David Wilks (Otoja Abit), having met him, presumably when she worked at Goldman Sachs before she left her job to become a low-paid veterinarian assistant, a self-demotion that has not gone unnoticed by David’s nasty dominating mother, Alison Wilks (Tyra Ferrell).



      As Jennifer meets the future in-laws for dinner in a David’s Manhattan apartment, it becomes apparent that Mrs. Wilks has planned out the entire wedding, from the Christmas Eve date down to the table flower decorations complete with cinnamon sticks. She has even made an appointment with fashion designer Vera Wang for Jennifer’s wedding dress.

      As might be expected Jennifer, a girl originally from the Queens, is more than a little taken aback by all the surprise plans for her own wedding and perturbed that her future hubby David dares not say a word to his mother to support her own reservations. Having lost her father and a best friend at Christmas, she isn’t comfortable with having a “Christmas Eve” wedding and frankly would prefer a courthouse marriage with a couple of close friends as witnesses—an impossibility of course given her boyfriend’s celebrity parents.

       She leaves the table, changes into her sweats, and decides, quite late at night, to take a jog. Clearly an unadvisable act in the empty streets of city wealth. And wouldn’t you know, almost the moment she leaves the apartment building she witnesses a stoned driver hit a bicyclist? She rushes to check on his well-being and to demand the driver produce his insurance card. The driver gets back into the car and speeds off. Not to worry about the cute gay boy, however, as we immediately recognize him to be an angel named Azrael Gabison (Copper Koch). I mean that literally. Yes, he’s a nice gay guy who—as she walks him down the streets just make sure he isn’t suffering from a concussion—is not only ready to hear her woes but her entire life story. After all, he’s a complete stranger. What has she got to lose?

       Fortunately, her flash-back begins in 1999, not at birth, the Christmas Eve day when she baked cookies, mixed up some alcoholic eggnog and called up her best friend Gabrielle Vernaci (Adriana DeMeo, the younger Gabby performed by Natasha Goodman) reminding her of her promise to help her decorate the Christmas tree. But Gabby is busy with the local school drop-out Vinnie (Avery Whitted), about to have sex, and demands she leave her alone, in response to which Jennifer pours the eggnog down the drain, dumps the plate of cookies into the trash, and dashes off a letter saying that she never wants to hear from or even talk her friend Gabby ever again, immediately posting it, something she will regret—at least for many years—since soon after Gabby got pregnant, had a still-born child, and quite purposely stepped out into traffic to be killed by a passing car.

      That still-born child, the film soon perversely reveals, is none other than Azrael Gabison (get it? “Gabby’s son”) the gay angel patiently listening to all this.

       The trope of a guardian angel suddenly appearing after you’ve died or are contemplating suicide is fairly common. Generally, however, it ends badly. Scrooge was told by three such spirits (Christmases past, present, and future) how things would turn out if he didn’t change his ways; Billy Bigelow got to return home from heaven for just a day in Carousel only to learn how he had missed out on the most important things in life, much like Emily in Our Town who found her one day return filled with pain since the living, she discovers, are so very unaware of life; and George Bailey of It’s a Wonderful Life returns to Bedford Falls after his death to discover that without him his hometown has turned out to be a vile city with even meaner folk.

       I suppose in order to waylay any of those possibilities and in recognition that Jennifer is not really contemplating death, but just at an impasse about her wedding plans, writer and director Otoja Abit lets his heroine have a chance to experience an “alternative life,” a life that could have happened if, let’s imagine, her father and Gabby hadn’t died. But it’s truly an odd place for a gay still-born angel to send anybody, particularly since the world she uncovers supposedly can’t happen since everyone is dead except for the woman experiencing a life with them.

      Oh well, I guess if God can make a still-born fetus into a gay angel it must be worth taking a chance just to find out where the hell it takes her. We already know it will take her back to Gabby, who surviving the betrayal of her best friend, has not only forgiven her but is about to marry her—on Christmas Eve nonetheless.


     This might have been a lot of fun, since the 30-some year-old Jennifer has no idea what’s happening in this alternative world, suddenly realizing that she’s in a lesbian relationship—without having evidently any prior lesbian sexual experience—that they have a dog whose name and gender she doesn’t know, and discovering that her father inexplicably is still living—all of which is treated by the others as if she had only a momentary memory lapse like quirky fits of behavior that most of us might have quickly feared hinted at early onset of Alzheimer’s. Is it any wonder when she and lover get into bed to make love, Jennifer is not really sure what to do? Gay sex in this movie, accordingly, consists mostly of cuddling up to the other and stroking an arm or a shoulder.

       What’s more, Gabby has arranged a meeting with their local parish priest to try to convince him, despite his conservative record, to open up his parish to same-sex individuals and marry them the very next evening! Gabby does all the talking while Jennifer sits like the stone log she has accused her fiancé David of having been. No matter, the priest who has cared for them since they were children refuses to go against the Church’s traditional position.

     In the process of Gabby’s amazing activism regarding all things, Jennifer falls in love all over again, as we discover on that long ago day, the reason she had invited Gabby over was to tell her how deeply she felt. This film seems to suggest that if you lose your first object of same-sex desire the only solution is to become heterosexual.

      On the other hand, as the angel has suggested in this alternative world, anything can happen. Since Pope Francis has said he liked homosexuals, their friendly priest decides overnight that it is time for a change. In her review in Slate titled “Ballad of a Flamboyantly Gay Dead Fetus,” critic Christina Cauterucci outlines the total absurdity of the new plot twist:

 

“Gabby begs the priest to flout the Catholic Church and marry her and Jennifer, because “the Supreme Court ruled” and Pope Francis is kinder toward gays than his predecessors. (For all of its waylaid themes, this movie is suddenly about homophobia in faith communities too.) The priest rebuffs the couple for what we’re told is the second time. But the next day, at the parish Christmas service, he gives a big speech about how Catholics need to stop being homophobic to prevent more gay Catholic suicides. He literally says “love is love,” to cheers from the parishioners (with a few nominal walkouts). He then calls out the names of every queer person in the congregation and brings them up to the altar, effectively outing them, so they can all take communion together while the straight congregants look on approvingly. The priest says this is a big deal and some kind of first—but in real life, the Catholic Church doesn’t bar gay people from communion. It does require that people confess their sins before communion, and it deems gay sex a sin, so I guess if any of the queer people who were non-consensually summoned to the altar had had gay sex and not confessed it to a priest yet, the communion-giving would have contravened Catholic teaching….”

 

      If you’re not astounded by these events, you might certainly be when, unbeknownst to Jennifer and perhaps to Gabby he decides to marry them on the spot, producing matching gold rings for the occasion (a gift from the parish?). And then when the girls rush home to change clothes, Jennifer is told that somehow Gabby has been able to find the time to buy her a stunningly slinky new red dress (somewhat strange, since Jennifer has complained about her mother-in-law’s table decorations of being too “red”). They rush back to celebrate their marriage with the entire parish, Jennifer now a married woman while also simultaneously realizing that this is not really happening and, that as soon as Azrael reappears, she must go back to David and to heterosexual normality. What has she gotten herself into, we have to ask, regarding both her past and her present.

 


    This time when she wakes up in bed, it is David, not a strange dog, pawing her. And a decision must be made about their wedding plans, although it appears that Jennifer doesn’t yet realize that since she has lost her former girlfriend, she might find another woman to love in all of metropolitan New York.

      Instead, she drags David back to Queens, a place to where he apparently has never been and never once realized that black men lived. It’s all a bit confusing, but we quickly perceive that we are now back in the present, even if David somehow as never even imagined the real world in which he’s supposed to be living.

     In visiting the old church, they discover that her priest is no longer there, having been removed for illegally officiating same-sex marriages. But we also discover from the tell-tale lesbian secretary that it was that same priest who had insisted that Gabby have her baby instead of aborting it, and so in a sense was actually responsible for her apparent suicide after the stillborn baby.

      Speaking of stillborns, the angel shows up once more, this time with a new piece of information he’s been holding back. Jennifer can return to the past if she desires to rectify matters, or simply go ahead with her future—although of course if she chooses far enough in the past, the fetus will no longer be and she will lose forever her guardian angel. She chooses to go back the day of the fight.


      This time she does not immediately react when Gabby demands she leave her alone. And Gabby doesn’t go through with having sex with Vinny, showing up instead with a basket of candy canes to help decorate the tree. Jennifer gets the opportunity to tell her she loves her, and two get in a quick mouth to mouth peck before they settle down to the serious business of decorating that tree, only to discover a miniature angel that looks a lot like Azrael already hanging on a branch.

      In the end, I have to agree with Cauterucci’s assessment that this bizarre tale, presumably found to be perfect for Netflix distribution, is “a cautionary tale about teen pregnancy, stillbirth, suicide, and time travel as the only way for an adult to be her true queer self.” Certainly, it’s not at all about an adult lesbian relationship with women who engage in real sex. This is a movie, after all, in which even the dead fetuses of gay angels are not safe!

 

Los Angeles, December 25, 2022

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (December 2022).

Edgar G. Ulmer | The Black Cat / 1934

triple murder

by Douglas Messerli

 

Peter Ruric (based on a story by Edgar G. Ulmer and Peter Ruric, based, in turn, on the story by Edgar Allan Poe), Edgar G. Ulmer (director) The Black Cat / 1934

 

Numerous commentators describe Edgar G. Ulmer’s The Black Cat as a film of LGBTQ interest, which is rather strange since the film has no obvious or even clearly sublimated gay or lesbian context. Presumably critics have hauled the movie into the LGBTQ court because of its various other deviant sexualities; if nothing else, the long-time relationship between the two central “monsters” of this tale, Hjalmar Poelzig (Boris Karloff) and Dr. Vitus Werdegast (Béla Lugosi) is queer in the general meaning of that word.




    During World War I, apparently Poelzig was head of a Hungarian fortress, upon which he has now built his Bauhaus-like mansion, betraying his men to the Russian forces which killed thousands. One of the officers, Werdegast was sent to prison and has returned after 15 years to Poelzig’s isolated home in an attempt to find his wife Karen and his daughter, also named Karen. Werdegast knew, even back in the war years, that Poelzig desired his wife, and soon finds that the architect has indeed taken her on as his mistress until she died, Poelzig having embalmed her body and placed it in a sealed plastic cubicle where it will remain forever “beautiful and young.” He also reports that their daughter Karen died of pneumonia after the War. But we discover, in fact, that he is currently living with the younger Karen as his wife, and when her existence is discovered, Poelzig kills her—as we now must suspect, he probably previously killed her mother.


      Along with ailurophobia (the fear of cats) which Werdegast suffers, accordingly, the film has a so much on its mind—necrophilia, possible incest, murder, betrayal, and as we soon discover, Satanism (which Poelzig practices), drugs (provided by Dr. Werdegast), a chess game that determines the survival of members of the cast, and genocide—that it hardly has room for something as simple as same-sex desire. If nothing else, however, we can surely describe Poelzig as being insanely misogynistic as well. And the two villains certainly have a perverse life-time relationship, even if it is not particularly a gay one. 

      Into this quite horrific vortex the plot hurls two seemingly innocent individuals, Peter Alison (David Manners) and new wife Joan (Jacqueline Wells) who are celebrating their honeymoon in Hungary. They have hardly settled into their private coach room on the train and readied themselves for a honeymoon kiss before the conductor reports that the railroad line has mistakenly sold a seat in their coach to another man as well, Dr. Werdegast. The polite gentleman, a psychiatrist, insists he can remain in the passageway, but the equally polite couple insist that he join them.


      We soon perceive Werdegast as creepy individual, not only because he is played by Lugosi, but because while the couple sleep, he gently strokes the air over Joan’s head, Peter awakening in time to observe the act, which Werdegast quickly tries to explain away by describing his marital and war-time history.

 

“I beg your indulgence my friend. Eighteen years ago, I left a girl so like your lovely wife to go to war... She was my wife. Have you ever heard of Kurgaal? It is a prison below Amsk... Many men have gone there. Few have returned. I have returned. After fifteen years, I have returned.”

 

   Rather than simply asking the man to leave their coach because of his rather perverse actions, Peter not only buys the doctor’s explanation, but soon after, almost joyfully joins Werdegast and his servant Thamal (Harry Cording) on a small bus to take him and his wife to their next connection.

      As any horror film enthusiast might have foretold, the bus crashes on route to its destination, killing the driver and injuring Joan. And since they are near to Werdegast’s destination, Poelzig’s house, Werdegast invites them to visit Poelzig as well, evidently so that he might better care for Joan—although why a psychiatrist takes on the medical care of a crash victim is yet another mystery.



      Poelzig warily invites them to stay the night, which we have learned from our experience with the Dracula films, will surely lead them into danger. 

      Even stranger, from our point of view, but apparently not from Peter’s perception, the doctor injects Joan with a tranquilizing drug hyoscine, presumably so that she can sleep comfortably. Without any sense of injustice for having his honeymoon night so fully coopted, Peter docilely beds down in a nearby room which just happens to connect to Werdegast’s bedroom.

      If nothing sexual has been established yet between any of the film’s figures, we at least are given pause by the two lines spoken by the men as they settle down into their beds:

 

Werdegast: Do you mind if I keep this door open?

Peter: I’d sleep with a cold sweat if you didn’t. You know... this is a very tricky house. The kind of place where I'd like to have company.

        

       One might easily interpret this strange invitation to each other as providing us with a sense of Peter’s dis-ease in sleeping in Poelzig’s house, although he doesn’t at all imagine any danger for Joan in still another room. And we might remember also that he is opening his bedroom door to, so to speak, and even inviting in the company of someone who has long been in prison and has just demonstrated some sexual interest in his new wife.


      What Peter and the viewer cannot yet know is that Poelzig has no intention of letting the couple leave, and that the next day the two old “friends” calmly play a game of chess concerning their fate: if Werdegast wins, the couple can leave. But, of course, it is Poezig who declares check-mate.

      Joan, having awaken the next morning feeling well and very eager to leave, finds her husband not at all attending to her but having breakfast somewhere else in the house.

      No sooner does Werdegast’s servant Thamal (now strangely order by his master to do the bidding of Poelzig) find him, that the couple are told that Poelzig’s car is out of order. Peter discovers immediately after from Poelzig, in one of the drollest lines of the film, “Did you hear that, Vitus? The phone is dead. Even the phone is dead.”

 


     When the couple attempts to escape on foot, Thamal knocks Peter out and carries off Joan. For most of the rest the film the inattentive and rather incompetent husband spends his time in the underground cell in the basement, clearing the man out of the plot.     The rest of the film is filled with a rather discombobulated series of events. Out of nowhere, a coven of satanists arrive to participate in Poelzig’s Aleister Crowley-like, devil-worshiping ceremony. Joan is brought in, perhaps as a sacrifice or to be consecrated as an acolyte. A scream of another attending female interrupts the affair, giving Werdegast and Thamal time to grab Joan and carry her off, much to her equal horror, until he tells her to forget about her husband and leave the place as quickly as she can. Poelzig’s servant enters and shoots Thamal.

       Joan, in turn, tells Werdegast about having seen his daughter Karen in the house. As he rushes off to find her, he discovers her dead body on a nearby slab.

       By this time, Poelzig has arrived on the scene, the two monsters battling, the dying Thamal helping Werdegast to overpower Poelzig. Placing him on his embalming rack, Werdegast announces his intentions before proceeding to skin Poelzig alive:

 

“Do you know what I am going to do to you now? No? Did you ever see an animal skinned, Hjalmar? Ha, ha, ha. That's what I'm going to do to you now - pare the skin from your body... slowly... bit by bit!”

    


       This is the same man to whom Peter opened his bedroom door.

     By this time our ineffectual groom has finally escaped and seeing Werdegast bending down with Joan to pry a key out of the now dead Thamal’s hand, presumes Werdegast is attacking her and shoots him (where he has gotten a gun in not explained), thus killing off the man who was supposedly trying to help him and Joan escape.

      Werdegast, recalling the wartime dynamite charges in the old fortress, orders the honeymoon couple to leave the house immediately, as he sets off the explosions, destroying what is left of Poelzig, his cult, and himself. The End.

       So where’s the gay sex? Did I miss it? Well, perhaps it wasn’t quite where we thought. Ulmer has provided us with a very odd final scene. Peter, now returning home from their Hungarian rhapsody,* tucks up Joan in a traveling blanket as he abruptly reaches for a newspaper on the seat next to him, discovering a review of his newest mystery, Triple Murder.

 

“In Triple Murder, Mr. Alison's latest mystery thriller, he fulfills the promise shown...We feel, however, that Mr. Alison has, in a sense, overstepped the bounds of the matter of credibility. These things would never, but with a further stretch of the imagination, actually happen. We could wish that Mr. Alison would confine himself to the possible instead of letting his melodramatic imagination run away with him.”

 

      The screen goes black. So, we must ask ourselves, are we intended to now assume that the fiction we have just witnessed served as the source of his new mystery novel, or, more likely, that the film we’ve just experienced has been a recreation of his fiction?

       If it’s the latter, and he spent nearly all of the honeymoon vacation writing this mystery, then I’d suggest we have something to talk about. If the mystery oversteps the bounds of credibility, perhaps what it tells us a great deal about its author, an ineffectual lover who is probably at heart a misogynist who enjoys exploring all the various manias we’ve just witnessed. I’d suggest that Peter (played by gay actor Manners) has not at all wanted to remain in his relationship with Joan, whether or not the couple are honeymooners. This is a man who might very much enjoy the midnight company of a strange man in his bed. And now that he’s got his wife nicely embalmed in her traveling blanket he can go on to explore yet another fantasy of how to escape the woman to whom he's found himself wed. And, incidentally, having killed off the two villains, what other character is meant to represent the “triple” murder? Perhaps Karen, but she’s hardly a central figure in the movie/book, nor is Thamal. If nothing else, we might whisper to Joan what she perhaps already knows, never to trust this Peter.  

 

*Given the movie’s notable score featuring classical pieces by Franz Liszt, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, and Frédéric Chopin, my metaphor is quite apt.

 

Los Angeles, December 25, 2023

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (December 2023).

 


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