Spring Break
The Daily OrangeSixth annual event brings homosexual cinema to SU
By Matt Finley and Ben Peskin
Posted: 4/11/05, 2:05 AM EST Section: Pulp
The LGBT community raised its voice in the form of art last weekend as the Reel Queer Film festival presented a collection of films as diverse as the audience it was trying to reach out to.
The festival, which took place in Grant auditorium starting at 6:30 p.m. both Saturday and Sunday night was pondered by Open Doors: Queer Graduate Students and Friends with the GSO, screened a total of five feature length films and eight shorts. Produced everywhere from Germany to Greece, and ranging in scope from a 7-minute Sigur Ros music video to the 94-minute art/porn opus "The Raspberry Reich," each of the films addressed one or more of the many social issues confronting members of the LGBT community both on a national and international scale.
Almost There
A courageous effort nonetheless, "Almost There" directed by Joelle Alexis and Sigal Yehuda was a mondo bore. Shot entirely on a hand-held consumer-quality camera, the film sought to portray the real life of the two lesbian filmmakers as they searched for a new home in Greece after deciding to leave their home in Tel-Aviv.
Were they chased out for not fitting into the hetero-normative society of a Jewish country? Nope. Such would make for some interesting drama, but "Almost There" is almost completely devoid of anything edgy. As if tame material were not enough, the film did not make very much sense, attributing the couple's move to Sigal's desire to leave the terror stricken city and Joelle's need to "have a more complete life with her partner." OK, that sounds fine, but the movie does not really show this, instead it comes across as a poorly edited reality show in which two women who love each other struggle and travel together.
One redeeming aspect of the film was some of the candid things Joelle said about being hurt by her mother's passive refusal to accept her as a lesbian. The film had a chance if the makers had followed that thread, but instead we were treated to a family vacation film that looked like it was shot by my kid sister. Except for a few choice images, the film a shaky blur that dared to put me to sleep.
The Graffiti Artist
Lost in the back alleys of Portland and Seattle, a young man of indeterminate age and limited education uses graffiti to proclaim his anarchistic message. "The Graffiti Artist," directed by James Bolton, uses film explore what it means to be gay, homeless and to have little exposure or education about being gay. Essentially, Bolton shows the audience what it looks like to be gay sans a gay identity.
Bolton tells us little about his po-mo hero Nick. No words are spoken for the first 30 minutes, and we watch as Nick, who at this point has no name, demonstrates that it can be possible to live with no income, no family, no friends and no home.
I sat utterly engrossed for the first half an hour as Nick lived out an alien existence. Watching him steal with routine skill, watching him paint identical representations of the same word that is his art, "Rupture," I saw part of society that is visible to all, but no one seems to know about. Could Nick be exactly like the kind of people who paint intricate drawings along train tracks and on the sides of buildings? Definitely.
After establishing Nick's homeless identity, Bolton shifts towards the more burning question of his sexual identity. In the middle of the movie we meet Jesse, and here is where the dialogue begins. The two roam the streets of Seattle, and sexual tension arises out of the power and complication Jesse brings to Nick's life.
Eventually Jesse succumbs to the sexual tension and in what looks like a "booty call" moment indulges in a sexual romp with Nick. More interesting than the ramifications of the one-night stand is watching Nick repress his sexuality. It appears humorously during a café scene in which after buying Nick a smoothie, Jesse remarks to Nick that the waitress is hot.
If ever given the chance, see this movie. It offers unique portrayal of homosexuality that is completely contrary to all modern stereotypes. Bolton tells us that it is possible to be gay without having a fey voice, dress well or hit on anybody.
Clara's Summer
French director Patrick Grandperret's film, "Clara's Summer," focuses on two teenage girls, best friends Clara and Zoe, who go to summer camp in hopes of losing their virginity to a couple of their male classmates. However, when Clara is rejected and Zoe finds a willing partner, the two diverge onto separate individual paths of self-exploration and discovery. Clara, already frustrated with Zoe's immediate embarkation into a seemingly passionate heterosexual relationship ultimately seeks solace and kinship in the arms of Sonia, an open bisexual who is taunted mercilessly by the other campers.
This film is another crowning example of a foreign filmmaker taking on a subject that in any Hollywood production would become a tedious exercise in young adult PSA-dom. Unfortunately, on a topical level these coming of age, "It's OK to be gay!" features are prone to getting either completely over-simplified into smiling "Now I understand why discrimination is wrong" anti-climaxes, or even more frequently, watered-down meta-solution films that shy away from sexuality completely and choose instead to deliver a trite fortune-cookie scrap about "diversity." However, through a healthy amount of character development and an utter refusal to reduce human emotion to one-liners and practiced tear duct manipulation, Grandperret's vision succeeds in creating a subtle and tactful piece.
The film is interesting on a genre level because as an American moviegoer, it's impossible to watch without immediately recalling every '80s camp comedy from "Meatballs" to "Ski School," that finds a rowdy platoon of horny teens hell-bent on screwing each other into a blissful coma but ultimately falling victim to the social drama that inevitably ensues. And this is all true of "Clara's Summer," the major differences being the female perspective from which the story is told and a vilification of meaningless sex, instead valuing a passion for friendship, curiosity, and, most of all, a determination to find (though, thankfully, not define) love.
The Raspberry Reich
Bruce La Bruce's film, "The Raspberry Reich," outfitted with both a director's note in the program and a minimum-age-to-enter disclaimer on all of the Reel Queer publicity, both in regard to the films self-proclaimed "art/porn" nature, was a fitting end to the festival. Neither warning was unwarranted, as much of the film was what would commonly be labeled as "hardcore" pornography, existing quite prolifically and graphically in both hetero and homosexual forms. However, La Bruce uses these images as well as the absurdity of their contexts as a jumping off point to enter in an engaging, extremely well-edited and ultimately, rewarding socio-political study in gender, sex and revolution.
Presented as one-part porno and one-part propaganda film, complete with repetitious text-scrolls and blatant sloganeering, "The Raspberry Reich" tells the story of a terrorist group determined to bring about political revolution in Germany by starting a social, specifically sexual, coup. "Heterosexuality is the Opiate of the Masses" is one of the many increasingly satirical revolutionary slogans brandished by the group's female leader, Gudrun, who argues that any socially imposed structures, including monogamy, marriage and strict adherence to a heterosexual lifestyles, oppress society into the capitalist mold and create a politically impotent public. She uses these slogans and the political agenda of Germany's Red Army Faction of the 1970s, to coerce her all-male activism/terrorism campaign to arm themselves, kidnap the son of a German industry mogul and have lots of sex with each other.
If all of this sounds a bit pretentious, it should. La Bruce plays with the idea of making terrorism chic and kitschy by introducing increasingly gratuitous sexual situations paired with revolutionary slogans that turn laughably self-important insurrectionist clichés like "Meat is Murder" into blatantly satirical rhetoric such as "The Revolution is my Boyfriend," "Cornflakes are Counter-Revolutionary" and more tongue-in-cheek Patty Hearst banter than one could ever wish for. In the end, La Bruce manages to critique not only social and sexual politics, but the politics of political revolution, cultural reclamation and social obligation in ambivalent hands.
The festival, which took place in Grant auditorium starting at 6:30 p.m. both Saturday and Sunday night was pondered by Open Doors: Queer Graduate Students and Friends with the GSO, screened a total of five feature length films and eight shorts. Produced everywhere from Germany to Greece, and ranging in scope from a 7-minute Sigur Ros music video to the 94-minute art/porn opus "The Raspberry Reich," each of the films addressed one or more of the many social issues confronting members of the LGBT community both on a national and international scale.
Almost There
A courageous effort nonetheless, "Almost There" directed by Joelle Alexis and Sigal Yehuda was a mondo bore. Shot entirely on a hand-held consumer-quality camera, the film sought to portray the real life of the two lesbian filmmakers as they searched for a new home in Greece after deciding to leave their home in Tel-Aviv.
Were they chased out for not fitting into the hetero-normative society of a Jewish country? Nope. Such would make for some interesting drama, but "Almost There" is almost completely devoid of anything edgy. As if tame material were not enough, the film did not make very much sense, attributing the couple's move to Sigal's desire to leave the terror stricken city and Joelle's need to "have a more complete life with her partner." OK, that sounds fine, but the movie does not really show this, instead it comes across as a poorly edited reality show in which two women who love each other struggle and travel together.
One redeeming aspect of the film was some of the candid things Joelle said about being hurt by her mother's passive refusal to accept her as a lesbian. The film had a chance if the makers had followed that thread, but instead we were treated to a family vacation film that looked like it was shot by my kid sister. Except for a few choice images, the film a shaky blur that dared to put me to sleep.
The Graffiti Artist
Lost in the back alleys of Portland and Seattle, a young man of indeterminate age and limited education uses graffiti to proclaim his anarchistic message. "The Graffiti Artist," directed by James Bolton, uses film explore what it means to be gay, homeless and to have little exposure or education about being gay. Essentially, Bolton shows the audience what it looks like to be gay sans a gay identity.
Bolton tells us little about his po-mo hero Nick. No words are spoken for the first 30 minutes, and we watch as Nick, who at this point has no name, demonstrates that it can be possible to live with no income, no family, no friends and no home.
I sat utterly engrossed for the first half an hour as Nick lived out an alien existence. Watching him steal with routine skill, watching him paint identical representations of the same word that is his art, "Rupture," I saw part of society that is visible to all, but no one seems to know about. Could Nick be exactly like the kind of people who paint intricate drawings along train tracks and on the sides of buildings? Definitely.
After establishing Nick's homeless identity, Bolton shifts towards the more burning question of his sexual identity. In the middle of the movie we meet Jesse, and here is where the dialogue begins. The two roam the streets of Seattle, and sexual tension arises out of the power and complication Jesse brings to Nick's life.
Eventually Jesse succumbs to the sexual tension and in what looks like a "booty call" moment indulges in a sexual romp with Nick. More interesting than the ramifications of the one-night stand is watching Nick repress his sexuality. It appears humorously during a café scene in which after buying Nick a smoothie, Jesse remarks to Nick that the waitress is hot.
If ever given the chance, see this movie. It offers unique portrayal of homosexuality that is completely contrary to all modern stereotypes. Bolton tells us that it is possible to be gay without having a fey voice, dress well or hit on anybody.
Clara's Summer
French director Patrick Grandperret's film, "Clara's Summer," focuses on two teenage girls, best friends Clara and Zoe, who go to summer camp in hopes of losing their virginity to a couple of their male classmates. However, when Clara is rejected and Zoe finds a willing partner, the two diverge onto separate individual paths of self-exploration and discovery. Clara, already frustrated with Zoe's immediate embarkation into a seemingly passionate heterosexual relationship ultimately seeks solace and kinship in the arms of Sonia, an open bisexual who is taunted mercilessly by the other campers.
This film is another crowning example of a foreign filmmaker taking on a subject that in any Hollywood production would become a tedious exercise in young adult PSA-dom. Unfortunately, on a topical level these coming of age, "It's OK to be gay!" features are prone to getting either completely over-simplified into smiling "Now I understand why discrimination is wrong" anti-climaxes, or even more frequently, watered-down meta-solution films that shy away from sexuality completely and choose instead to deliver a trite fortune-cookie scrap about "diversity." However, through a healthy amount of character development and an utter refusal to reduce human emotion to one-liners and practiced tear duct manipulation, Grandperret's vision succeeds in creating a subtle and tactful piece.
The film is interesting on a genre level because as an American moviegoer, it's impossible to watch without immediately recalling every '80s camp comedy from "Meatballs" to "Ski School," that finds a rowdy platoon of horny teens hell-bent on screwing each other into a blissful coma but ultimately falling victim to the social drama that inevitably ensues. And this is all true of "Clara's Summer," the major differences being the female perspective from which the story is told and a vilification of meaningless sex, instead valuing a passion for friendship, curiosity, and, most of all, a determination to find (though, thankfully, not define) love.
The Raspberry Reich
Bruce La Bruce's film, "The Raspberry Reich," outfitted with both a director's note in the program and a minimum-age-to-enter disclaimer on all of the Reel Queer publicity, both in regard to the films self-proclaimed "art/porn" nature, was a fitting end to the festival. Neither warning was unwarranted, as much of the film was what would commonly be labeled as "hardcore" pornography, existing quite prolifically and graphically in both hetero and homosexual forms. However, La Bruce uses these images as well as the absurdity of their contexts as a jumping off point to enter in an engaging, extremely well-edited and ultimately, rewarding socio-political study in gender, sex and revolution.
Presented as one-part porno and one-part propaganda film, complete with repetitious text-scrolls and blatant sloganeering, "The Raspberry Reich" tells the story of a terrorist group determined to bring about political revolution in Germany by starting a social, specifically sexual, coup. "Heterosexuality is the Opiate of the Masses" is one of the many increasingly satirical revolutionary slogans brandished by the group's female leader, Gudrun, who argues that any socially imposed structures, including monogamy, marriage and strict adherence to a heterosexual lifestyles, oppress society into the capitalist mold and create a politically impotent public. She uses these slogans and the political agenda of Germany's Red Army Faction of the 1970s, to coerce her all-male activism/terrorism campaign to arm themselves, kidnap the son of a German industry mogul and have lots of sex with each other.
If all of this sounds a bit pretentious, it should. La Bruce plays with the idea of making terrorism chic and kitschy by introducing increasingly gratuitous sexual situations paired with revolutionary slogans that turn laughably self-important insurrectionist clichés like "Meat is Murder" into blatantly satirical rhetoric such as "The Revolution is my Boyfriend," "Cornflakes are Counter-Revolutionary" and more tongue-in-cheek Patty Hearst banter than one could ever wish for. In the end, La Bruce manages to critique not only social and sexual politics, but the politics of political revolution, cultural reclamation and social obligation in ambivalent hands.
