Sunday, December 29, 2024

Inabel Selah | The Tailor / 2021

sewing up a new identity

by Douglas Messerli

 

Inabal Selah The Tailor / 2021[14 minutes]

 

We might guess where Israeli director/writer Inabal’s Selah’s short film of 2021 is going from the very first moment. Oren (Koren Solomon) a hirsute tailor is making a dress for one of his gay, transgender clients, all pink and chiffon, whom as a “top” he fucks.


    The would-be clothes designer has also applied to design school, and in the very first few frames of the film is sent a letter that rejects his application, to his devastation and his mother’s (Yael Daniel) sad regret. Mother and son in this movie obviously have a loving a relationship, but how far that rapport will take the now angry and confused dress designer is not quite established.

     Oren shaves his beard, and is interested in going even further, but the intrusion of his mother stops him from applying the makeup that he has discovered in their shared bathroom. Instead, Oren tears down all of his old designs from the wall, and begins to create a new wardrobe for his dummy model that consists of a gown all in white, almost like a marriage gown.


     That costume, we quickly perceives is for himself as, in the middle of the night, he finally is able to the makeup to his face, place the hidden wig upon his head, and dress himself in the gown which he has been sewing up for so very many nights.

     To her mother’s blinky-eyed middle-of-the-night awakening, he presents his newly discovered self, the transgender individual he has been hiding from himself and others for all of his life.


     We don’t even get a glimpse of his new transformation, but we surely guess it might be something splendid. If nothing else, it is the identity that he has been secretly sewing up for years of his closeted tailoring activities. A rejection of his dreams has freed him to become an individual he has for so-long struggled to become.

     There is nothing particularly earth-shattering here, or even amazingly revelatory. But in this short film we have witnessed another being come into her identity, and move into the new recognition of self. What is mother has to say about this is not really important for her grown son, now daughter. But it might, nonetheless, have been interesting to see her reaction and the reality Oren had consequently entered.

 

Los Angeles, December 29, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (December 2024).

Rebecca Ann Bentley | Stepping Out / 2022

coming to terms with reality

by Douglas Messerli

 

Rebecca Ann Bentley (screenwriter and director), Stepping Out / 2022 [9 minutes]

 

In this rather simplistic Australian film, first shown in international festivals in 2022, despite IMDb’s 2024 dating of its release, writer and director Rebecca Ann Bentley presents a rather simplistic view of coming out.

     Will (Will Hutchings) in this short film has just kissed Max (Darcy Smith), the popular soccer player of the elite all-male school which both boys attend, and Max is terribly disturbed since he truly liked it, and has made Will promise to no longer further discuss it.


 


     But Will, who is clearly quite comfortable with his sexuality, can’t resist making further advances.

     There is a tradition of gay films since 2020—perhaps even before—where smart sisters (Tori, in the series Heartstopper is a perfect example) clearly know what’s going on sexually between their older or younger brothers. In this case Liv (McKinely Markham) takes her brother aside to discuss his new “friend” to which he has just introduced her; “What do you know,” hisses her uptight brother. I know nothing she declares, “but if you don’t fuck that boy immediately, I will.”


     Max, however, despite is regular visits to internet gay sites is still haunted by the notion that everything he feels is wrong and rotten, and it takes a visit from Liv, who notices his appetite for young men, to finally get him to realize that there’s nothing wrong with his sexuality, and that even if his soccer-boy friends reject him, that no one should ever reject such deep love. Besides, she informs, she’s pansexual. O the progress (?) that has been made. Rugby player Nick (Kit O’Connor) from Heartstopper didn’t do anything more that blink before he described himself as bisexual. But Max has the problems that most gay boys share, how do I get from here to there?


     His sister Liv is the conduit, and it only takes a good conversation with his sibling and a plate of friendly cookies from his disappeared mother to set things straight, or perhaps we should say, in a crooked way. On the particularly school-day morning on which Max comes alive, we walks over to his clearly disappointed friend Will and plants a deep kiss on his lips. Even the student (Jeffrey Li) notices, and surely it will soon be all over the school. But who cares? The boys have a great deal of love to enjoy in the viewer’s imagination.

 

Los Angeles, December 29, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema (December 2024)

    

Friday, December 27, 2024

Fiume and Juliam McKinnon | La vedova nera (The Black Widow) / 2023

an italian cyclist ends up in french porno hell

by Douglas Messerli

 

Fiume and Juliam McKinnon (screenwriters and directors) La vedova nera (The Black Widow) / 2023 [20 minutes]

 

A nasty little French film in which a sweet Italian bicyclist (Siro Pedrozzi) speeds presumably back to his home, only to fall into a seeming concussion in the trip, and who is then compelled by an apparently nice gatekeeper to enter an S&M porn theater, where a number of sexual beings hang out in the corners of the theater and the aisles, although the most dominant figure sits down next to the boy in an attempt to seduce him.


      The movie seems to be about a young handsome gay boy seduced by a man who wears a ring of amber in which is embedded the “black widow spider” of the movie’s title; but the boy is finally tempted by his seducer’s retreat into the bathroom, he eventually following only the discover a man has brutally killed another sexual partner with blood oozing from his body, matching the film’s quite evocative red décor. He rushes from the room seeking an escape out of the theater, but finds all doors locked.


      Upstairs he attempts to get into the room where the film is being aired, only to discover that the film itself has become a kind of monster which attacks him. Meanwhile, the terrifying stalker tracks him down, as he again attempts to find an exit in which all door seem to be locked.


     Another of the theater’s gay visitors is discovered to also be a corpse, and our young Italian youth desperately clings the last exit as the monstrous slayer comes closer.


     He escapes into the gentle arms of what I have described as “the gatekeeper,” but we quickly recognize, given that our young hero is now wrapped up in a sling, naked and probably dead, which quickly becomes a crystalized corpse ready for the spider’s palette, that our gatekeeper is also one of the bloody sodomites who destroy all those who enter the hell they have created.    

     What this little horror film is trying to tell us I have no clue. Perhaps it’s warning us of youthful digressions, about the effect of on-line porno. That might be far too easy of an answer to the horror of this story resulting from a simple bicycle spill. If the images are memorable, the plot is clearly queer terror without any possible resolution. And I can’t suggest anyone take the little torturous trek down the aisles of the porno theater, whether in a concussion or a living desire to experience the delicious tortures of messy sex. Don’t go here, I advise, knowing, of course, that many will track down this film simply because of my disdain.

 

Los Angeles, December 27, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (December 2024)

Jordi Núñez | Píxeles (Pixels) / 2015

minutiae in the breakdown of the image

by Douglas Messerli

 

Jordi Núñez (screenwriter and director) Píxeles (Pixels) / 2015 [12 minutes]

 

The two lovers who begin this film, Edu (Javier Amann) and Adri (Miguel Ángel Amor), Adri already accusing the quite handsome Edu of being an ugly mutt, a boxer dog, when inevitably his face will fall into old age, Edu imitating a lonely, crying dog.


    By the second section of the movie Adri is already sketching a portrait of another tenant in the building, Tristán (Ferando Hevia), who stands posing in his underwear as Edu enters the room, and although the two lovers, Edu and Adri have passionate sex later, Edu wants to determine whether or not his lover was turned on by the handsome Tristán. Yes, Adri admits, the model is really hot, but he loves Edu, and obviously he wouldn’t fuck him.


     But the distance between them has already been established, and with his friend Sara (Laura Minguell), Edu has already established he fear that he is losing his hair. Moreover, their neighbor Tristán wants to attend their party to meet the “hot girls” Sara and Linda (Andrea Sánchez).

     Indeed, Paula (Nakarey Fernández), one of Edu and Adri’s female friends is ready immediately to jump into bed with cute-boy Tristán, Adri, the artist, filming them up close with his cellphone, while Edu looks judgmentally on. When Paula spills a bit on wine of Tristán’s undershirt, Adri demands he go into their bedroom a pick out another shirt. Why, wonders Edu, might he not return to his own apartment in the same building, and why did he pick out one of his shirts which clearly looks better on his lean body?


     Adri realizes something has changed, asking “Are you going to move? Or are you staying home?” This is not a question one can just ignore, but is addressed more as a challenge, Edu already realizing that his lover may not even care which of the two options he chooses. Edu no longer feels like following the others on their round of bars.

    This is the way so many gay relationships fall apart, through moments of paranoia, of fears of aging and loss of youthful good looks, of the lack of the other mate’s full attention. So many gay men, who were never taught to comprehend their worth regarding their social and workplace gifts and talents, have come to depend on only their good looks, their youth. Edu is terrified of his seemingly disappearing hairline, while Tristán has such a full head of curly red hair.

     Well, they’ll talk it out in the morning. Edu returns to the bathroom to squeeze more of the hair-restoring agent on his already full head of hair.

     What Edu can’t know, as he slowly tears down Adri’s drawings of himself posted across his walls, is that pissed by the women’s constant questions about why Edu has not joined them, Adri walks against a red light into his death.

     Edu’s cracked cellphone screen cannot even permit the joys of the pictures of their past relationship.


    Pixels are the bits and pieces that together form the image displayed on your screen, and it is precisely such tiny fragments which have pulled apart the full image of their loving sexual relationship.

    Spanish director Jordi Núñez’s short film is not profound, but certainly reiterates the problem of letting the daily minutiae of life destroy the full picture of what is actually happening.

 

Los Angeles, December 27, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (December 2024).

Martín Rodríguez Redondo | Marilyn / 2018

the vultures

by Douglas Messerli

 

Martín Rodríguez Redondo (screenwriter and director) Marilyn / 2018

 

This Argentine-Chilean feature film is based on the real-life story of Marilyn (Marcelo Bernasconi), a newspaper story figure who lived, as does the 17-year-old hero of the film Marcos (Walter Rodríguez), in the rural outback of Argentina, not a good place for a gay boy coming of age.



     The family rents the farm from a nearby rancher, and they work hard to make a living with a herd of cattle that are often subject to cattle rustlers, who kill the animals on the spot before dragging their carcasses off. For Marco’s loving father Carlos (Germán de Silva) it’s an extremely hard life, and Marco’s older brother Carlitos (Ignacio Giménez), who is an unthinking brute of a man always ready for the hard work but without any imagination to relieve him from his own strenuous efforts, and his stone-faced, cold-hearted wife, Olga (Catalina Saavedra) work equally hard to make the ranch survive. Recognizing Marcos as an exceptional being, Carlos is determined that he will get an education, eventually perhaps being able to support the entire family with his more exalted position as a computer technician or even possibly a teacher.


     What he doesn’t quite perceive is that Marcos, although a good student, is himself unsure of his identity, constantly stealing his own mother’s clothing—some of which he himself has suggested she should buy to be more stylish in her wardrobe—and he also sews, making his own dress for the local celebration of the Argentinian Carnival.

      Suddenly, however, his father dies of the long hard work he’s been doing for some many years, changing the young boy’s entire life, as he is put to work with his brother, milking cows, and touring the large ranch in search of the dangers of intruders and rustlers, tasks at which he is not very adept and for which he is mocked by his brother and friends.

      Still, he secrets away material, sews up a black dress, and transforms himself into a glamorous young female for the Carnival celebration.

       Jay Weissberg, writing in Variety, nicely describes the complete transformation that occurs for the young faced with a life of enforced labor as he transforms himself into the Marilyn that, after his Carnival appearance, a local bar in song defines his new existence:

 

“The teenager’s almost blank passivity does become monotonous, but then there’s a carnival fiesta in town and Marcos transforms himself into an energized, stunning woman, flashing a bewitching smile and reveling in displaying his dance moves. The actor’s sudden, infectious animation blows open the film’s earlier staid caution, bringing Marcos alive in wig, make-up and sexy outfit as he suggestively shows off to homophobic, possibly closeted, rancher’s son Facundo (Rodolfo García Werner). On the way home with his only friend Laura (Josefina Paredes), a bunch of guys pull them over; Marcos tells her to go, and he’s brutally raped.”


     The boy who fucks him is the son of the same wealthy rancher who is fucking over his mother and brother by now demanding full payment for the ranch that they have long been renting. In a sense, Marcos hardly registers the nightmare he has just experienced. In some respects, we can imagine, it is the payment he realizes must be made for his difference; and there is a part of him that simultaneously that takes a self-destructive joy in realizing that in female dress he has been able to attract such a sexual reaction, as brutal and homophobic as it was. In pain, heavily bruised and clearly suffering the indignation of the event, he slowly marches home, his friend Laura finally returning on her scooter to bring him home.


       His mother, as unperceptive and ignorant as she is, immediately recognizes the bruises on his face for what they are, and gently mends his wounds, but at the same time dutifully searches through his drawers, gathering up all his feminine apparel and burning them in the yard as Marcos watches, tears running down his face. In the inverted world in which he is made to endure life, it difficult to know whether the rape or his mother’s total rejection of his identity is more devastating. At least the boys who raped him recognized him for what he was; his mother is determined clearly to make him into another being.

       The rancher who owns their property now arrives with further news of cattle rustling, and insists that both Carlitos and Marcos join and him and Facundo him in search of the criminals. They find only a cow in the midst of dying, which the rancher demands Marco immediately shoot to put him out of his misery. Yet Marcos, the secret fairy, lover, and transsexual cannot pull the trigger of macho authority. Carlitos pulls out his own rifle to take the cow down.

       The local rancher, not truly a mean man, announces however that if they cannot pay the money they owe him in a month or so that he has no choice but to force them out of the home in which they have lived for decades. He suggests they look into buying one of the hundreds block houses that other such farmers and residents of the nearby town are buying up on bank loans.

      Marcos’ mother and brother take a trip into town to see what these still unfinished houses might look like, determining that despite the hospitable ranch house they now inhabit, they are a liveable alternative, only to discover that without a supporter or money to put down as a loan they have left out of the new wave of the local bourgeoisie. But when Marcos is sent to bring back some bottles of water for the thirst pilgrims of his brother and mother, he encounters a young gay man Federico (Andrew Bargsted), who is totally enchanted by the lovely young farm boy Marcos, and who himself has already purchased one of the block houses.

      Marcos, sneaking out to visit him, develops a loving relationship with Federico which suggests all sorts of new possibilities to the suffering rural gay boy. He even invites him to his home, without bothering to explain the cold reception he is surely to receive by Carlitos and Olga, neither of which can be bothered by even speaking to him. When Marcos’ mother later discovers the boys having sex in broken down car on their property, she pulls out her rifle and sends Federico packing.


     Poor Marco, still clueless, keeps trying the contact his lover without a response, Federico obviously being furious that his friend had not explained the true situation of his family life.

     As if things were not bad enough, now Olga and Carlitos become almost paranoid, turning off lights and even candles when anyone approaches the house to pretend they are not at home, clearly fearful of the inevitable foreclosure and eviction. In punishment for Marcos’ continued attempts to contact his ex-lover, they pull away his one remaining communication with the outside world, his cellphone, leaving him to a life of lonely desperate terror.

      This peaceful, dreaming lover finally can no longer bear the world in which he has been forced to imagine his dreadful future. In the middle of the night, he quietly gets up, pulls down one of the family rifles and returns the communal bedroom where he shoots his brother and mother, killing them both. Marilyn has finally had her vengeance and in the same moment destroyed herself as opposed to letting them gradually tear away any remains of her existence.


     Premiering at the Berlin Film Festival in 2018, this cinematic masterwork is about as bleak as gay cinema can imagine itself. And although I truly loved this film, I suspect its dark vision is why I could not immediately write about it.

 

Los Angeles, December 24, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema (December 2024).

Thursday, December 26, 2024

Caitlin McLeod | One Like Him / 2022

different directions

by Douglas Messerli

 

Tareq Baconi and Caitlin McLeod (screenplay), Caitlin McLeod (director) One Like Him / 2022

[16 minutes]

 

As children Karim (the teenage version played by Mohammed Nizar, the adult by Kais Nashif) was in love with Ramzi (Hamzeh Shaker Mahadin and Loai Noufi), but when Ramzi’s mother found a love note that he had written Ramzi, any contact the boys might have continued to make was cut off.


    Years later, the two meet up in the city, Karim now an openly gay man, and Ramzi a straight man with a new-born daughter. Karim brings him a letter in an envelope to read later, and attempts to speak to his childhood lover about their lives then and now.

     Various possibilities of that communication are played out, with, in the first case, Ramzi simply walking out and refusing to permit Karim’s confessions from even being expressed. In a second version, more gets set, but ends up equally bad. In a third version of this Rashomon-like playing out of past events, Ramzi chastises Karim for having refused all further communication, arguing that even if they might have gone in different sexual directions there still might have been years of friendship and understanding.

     We cannot know which version of this frustrated attempt to communicate in Arabic that does not even allow the words to express Karim’s sexuality, In all versions, the enveloped communication that Karim suggests that Ramzi should read later, is soaked in the whisky Ramzi spills in their angry and hurt conversation, and is left behind, unopened.


     The director herself describes the tense situation:These two Jordanian men and what they say to each other in the context of present day Amman is so powerful in this story that our approach was to showcase those elements as much as possible. There is a magnetic stasis to the shots that allow us to feel each twitch of a cheek or a jaw tightening. We are real and up close and personal.

     At the same time the film sits in a surreal, fantasy space. The elements, emotions, energies disrupt reality and make us (and Karim) question what is real and what is imagined. Overall we want an audience to think about what "closure" really means in relation to personal identity and another person.”

     In such a world, it appears closure is not possible, since each time the epistle brought as a token by Karim to Ramzi is left behind. In the last moments of the film, he opens the letter to reveal that it is a wedding invitation between him and a man named Tobias, obviously presented Ramzi as a token of a past that was never permitted to exist in their culture, and most certainly a direction closed off to his friend.


     Apparently, it is still a reality that is not permitted to exist in men like Ramzi’s world. Yet, in such a world even the victim is also the perpetrator of the homophobia that pervades the culture. McLeod expresses it quite succinctly:

 

 “The film looks at the significance and consequences of what is spoken and unspoken. Karim has been living with the burden of what has gone unsaid, never having had the words or language to describe himself. He never had a chance to explain to his childhood friend and first love how he felt. In this conversation, Karim finally finds the courage to speak his truth. But each time he comes up against obstacles – in himself and in Ramzi - and the moment is not cathartic. Saying ‘I am gay’ in English alienates Ramzi, who finds the expression ‘undignified’. Then none of the words in Arabic feel quite right. Karim finally loses control of the moment. He lets go of the need for Ramzi to understand him. He accepts that, as limited and reductive as his language might be, at least it’s honest. And that is when something unexpected happens: Karim hears that he was accepted and loved all along. No one turned away from him. He had, in fact, turned away from himself.”

 

Los Angeles, December 26, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (December 2024).

Index R-Z

Angelo Raaijmakers I, Adonis / 2021 Peeter Rabane Firebird / 2021   Tyler Rabinowitz Catalina / 2022 Tyler Rabinowitz See You Soon / 20...