I’m doing a series of Facebook posts that include exclusive content here as an experiment. I’m also trying to use more pictures, going for shorter posts, and seeing how long I can maintain posting every day.
This is one of those challenge meme thingies. I was asked to do this by Valerie Nelson.
Thus we begin Season 3: The Groma Era.
Be careful! There may be spoilers ahead, if you haven’t seen this movie yet, but want to!
Later this evening, I’ll be leading a discussion after a screening of the Academy Award-Winning film A Fantastic Woman at the Bright Family Screening Room at Emerson College. I’m very excited to do this: I love this film.
I love how it shows Marina’s inner life without being overt. Much of this is shown directly through Daniela Vega’s performance, but there are times when the film uses a kind of emotional impressionism, such as the scene where Marina is walking against the wind and she’s leaning forward, almost parallel to the ground, still pushing forward.
I love the various ways the film represents her isolation: the cold, almost stalkerish way the camera follows her from across the street, or from behind. Even in the wide shots, she’s alone, vulnerable. There’s a time when she has, as nearly as we can tell, been entirely abandoned. It rains, and she has nowhere to take cover, so she keeps walking. What else can she do? Sometimes there’ll come a close-up, and Marina will look directly into the camera, meeting our regard, offering a challenge and a reproach.
And yet, she is saved by her allies several times in this movie. At the end of that walk through the wind and the rain, she comes to a friend’s apartment. They let her in. That resonated strongly with my own experience. A trans person who goes through gender realignment faces significant loss. I know of virtually no one who’s gone through transition who would disagree. But we’re also held together through our support system. Without that refuge, without people in our lives who accept us, we’re in an almost insurmountably difficult position.
A Fantastic Woman shows this to us. It wouldn’t be accurate to say that Marina is unflaggingly determined. She despairs. She’s brought low more than once in the course of the film’s story. But she keeps moving and the world moves around her: often in opposition, sometimes in support, though it often feels like the opposing forces are stronger and more prevalent.
Ultimately it’s her own determination that brings her some closure and some peace. It’s her own strength, scant moments here and there of good fortune scattered in with the catastrophe she faces, including a few friends, that carry her through to a new stability.
Some of the movies I’ve seen about trans people seem to be directed mainly at a cis, heteronormative audience: fewer are aimed specifically at trans folk themselves. A Fantastic Woman speaks to all audiences. It universalizes Marina’s experience by placing us at times at that stalkerish distance, and at other times letting us look over her shoulder, and also staring at us levelly, through Marina’s eyes. When she experiences transphobia, no punches are pulled. Some characters in this movie are very up front in their hateful attitudes. Marina is seen as a suspect for no other reason than her presence and the fact of her history. Those who care about her are shown no less honestly.
Marina herself makes foolish choices, though we fully understand and sympathize with her reasons for making them. She is neither a saint nor a warrior. But even so, given the chance, she faces the ugliness of her circumstances and gives back beauty. When we get to the final scene of the film, a long shot that pushes in to a tight close-up, what is revealed through also exposes our own humanity.
The value of the Roseanne Connor character was the other side of the double edge that got her fired: frankness, a willingness to put her ideas out there, regardless of possible consequences. There’s bravery in that, and the risk factor made for good comedy, most of the time. The show Roseanne also felt essential in this time as an avenue for the dialog that we have long since stopped even attempting to have as a nation.
I have family who are like her — the character and the flesh and blood woman — in some ways. Though most people who might happen across this post might not agree with me, I think this culture lost an important opportunity today, a chance to dialog across this widening chasm between those of us on the left and those on the right. The point of the show was to look beyond the ideological stances that divide us so sharply and remind ourselves that even though we disagree, we can at least try to see each other as people: as family.
Still, what Roseanne was fired for, she absolutely should have been fired for. It was a gross betrayal of the very thing that was most crucially valuable about Roseanne. There’s nothing defensible about the things she put in that tweet. Those remarks were personally directed and indefensibly mean-spirited. They were uncalled for and bore no constructive value. In fact, quite the opposite was true: they were meant to wound and they betrayed an attitude of dehumanization and cruelty. Their ilk has been with us for centuries, and there is nothing to be said in response to them. One can only dismiss as irredeemable the person who would invoke those ideas at this point in history.
On the other hand, Roseanne has said harsh things about trans people. Those comments about bathrooms and trans folk still need to be addressed whenever possible, because public cognizance of us as normal, productive, well-adjusted members of society is new — not the truth of them, but the currency of them in our society. I hate to hear the sorts of things those who hate us say, but I would rather those things get said out loud than thought and not said, because I can’t respond to hateful, wrong ideas about who I am, about my experience, if I never hear them stated. If ideas like that can’t be said in the public sphere, people will only transmit that hate among the like-minded, in private. If somebody is hiding what they think of people like me for fear of the consequences of speaking their minds out loud, that’s far more dangerous for me.
I’m reminded of sitting with family recently, after my transition, an uncomfortable and impenetrable silence between us. Those people no longer talk to me. If only someone — either my cousins, or my aunt, or, for that matter, if I — had spoken up, said what we were thinking, maybe we could have found a way to still be talking, even across the divide and disagreement we would still both have between us, rather than the huge, resounding silence that is all we share now.
This November, my state (Massachusetts) is going to vote on my right to exist via a ballot initiative. I would very much rather have the conversation about who I am and whether I am a danger or not, as painful and frustrating as it is, than to have to worry about what’s going to happen with people who think one way and talk another. It’s the way they think that will determine what happens when they vote, not what they’re willing to say when I’m in earshot.
Roseanne was the one TV show making the attempt to conduct some sort of dialog between conservatives and progressives, on issues that are, frankly, life or death for many. It was rightly cancelled due to the words of its star. Unfortunately, I fear that the failure of this lone attempt at having a conversation is a sign that it’s already too late for us to find our way to be one national family again.
Trans program 1 happened today at the Alford Auditorium at MFA Boston.
I had an amazing time. The program went over well: every film hit the mark, though I was surprised at the reactions to some of the individual movies.
People loved Calamity. It was funny, deeply awkward, and pithy. I love that movie, but I was worried no one else would. Beyond the representation issues (see original post with my comments here) it’s an edgy comedy. I didn’t know how my audience would react to it. I needn’t have worried.
The biggest surprise to me was The Real Thing. There were very few dry eyes in that house at the end of that movie.
I put my favorite movie at the end of the program, and that one didn’t impact the audience nearly as much as I had thought it would. The last couple of minutes of that film are just amazing. Alex Trahan’s wordless performance in that two minutes are the whole film for me, and they make it the best one. But it may have been too delicate a moment for a show-ender.
I will acknowledge that I was freaking out quietly in the front row about something unrelated, so some of the subdued audience reaction may have been my fault. I’ve learned my lesson; I’ll sit in the back from now on.
If I had needed to shorten this program for some reason, the two films I would have taken out got the best reactions. How about that? I can’t tell you what a rush it is to be in an audience full of people sniffling while the next film spools up.
As a programmer for Wicked Queer: The Boston LGBTQ Film Festival, it’s my great pleasure to curate short film programs of trans-themed movies. This year I put together 2. This week, I will blog about the first of them. I’ll follow up with comments about the second program next week.
Here are the films I’ve included, in program sequence:
Different: (2 min) narrative short, in French w/ subtitles.
A brief, narrated pace-setter, this film serves the purpose of a thematic overture for the whole program, encapsulating the issues that will come up throughout the set of films.
She: (14 min) Documentary, in English.
Often what attracts me to a documentary is the hit of personality I get from the film’s subjects. Tanesh Nutall, whom I grew to admire more and more over the course of the film, is an activist working in San Francisco. The first section of the film presents a view of her life there — her work, her relationships. In the second half of the film, we go with Tanesh to her family reunion in Rahway, NJ, a home she fled decades before to be able to transition her gender away from her conservative religious family. What kind of reception should she expect to receive?
In My Mother’s Closet: (13 min) narrative short, in English.
It’s a musical! There are a number of musicals in the festival this year, and I am proud to be presenting one as part of this sequence. A young woman invokes her mother’s strong presence in a phone conversation with a friend, whom she is trying to convince to come support a performance she is preparing to give.
Calamity: (23 min) narrative short, in French with subtitles.
Awkward, nearly to the point of horrifyingly so, but with a deft, light touch, this Belgian comedy caught my eye because of all of the strange visual juxtapositions and gags. It’s edgy stuff, but manages to give and preserve each of its characters’ dignity throughout. Note the role of Cléo/Calamity is played by François Maquet, a cis man. Generally, I avoid booking such films, but this one is so well done, I had to book it.
¿FAMILIA?: (15 min) narrative short, Spanish with subtitles.
A woman bears the burden of family in many different ways. Where Calamity has an almost sitcom-like feel, ¿FAMILIA? is gritty and carries notes of desperation. This familia is not on any picnic.
The Real Thing: (7 min) narrative short, in English
This film presents a nice twist on a very familiar current pop culture trope. Simple, sweet, and direct, I got the same heart warming feeling that the soldier’s homecoming trope has ceased to provide for me otherwise.
Umbrella: (16 min) documentary short, in English
Tells the story of four trans community activists/leaders. I found the inclusion of Mara Keisling, director of NCTE (National Center for Transgender Equality) exciting, as I’m familiar with her work. I hadn’t known the other three subjects of the film, but they are all compelling figures: inspiring and strong.
Pre-Drink (23 min) narrative short, French with subtitles
I’m so impressed with this film. Funny, sexy, emotional and intimate — it’s a stellar addition to our festival. The two actors give nuanced, engaging performances. Alex Trahan especially takes us to a place we haven’t seen before in filmed stories about trans folk. All through this film, we feel that underneath the snarky banter there is a world of feeling that never quite makes it to the surface.
This first program, which is entitled Family? will screen at the MFA on Saturday, March 31st at 1 PM. I hope to see you there!
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