Dolly Parton Rockstar

 

Well, this is unexpected. Rockstar, Dolly Parton's first rock album, prompted by her induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, spans 30 tracks of fist-pumping, guitar strumming, wide-legged RAWK. Plus, some power ballads. Anyway....

If you did not have Dolly warbling alongside Paul McCartney, Pat Benatar and Kid Rock on your 2023 bingo card, well, join the club. I was speechless as I listened. Mostly for all the right reasons. 

One could play a really fun game of Rock Wish List for a project like this. I would have loved to hear what Dolly could do alongside Tina Turner or a contemporary band like Idles. Hell, what about Ozzy Osbourne or Slipknot? But, no. It's a bit more safe, with a lot of her contemporaries and then a few "kids" like  Miley Cyrus. No Lil Nas X? He was all over Twitter wanting her to appear on "Old Town Road" a few years ago. Perhaps for Rockstar v. 2 if that appears. 

For this album, though, most of the superstars play quiet support to Dolly's vocals and it works well on such tracks as "Every Breath You Take" with Sting relegated to backing vocals. On "What Has Rock and Roll Ever Done for You" Dolly is clearly enjoying  her back and forth with Stevie Nicks, but the song is not up to their talents. 

When Dolly takes centre stage she really rules. "Purple Rain" is a gorgeous gospelly take on Prince's classic. Only someone like Mavis Staples could have enriched the vocal but Dolly's voice stands alone and I only wish the guitar solo had been a bit more commanding to build the power. 

"Wrecking Ball" alongside Miley Cyrus is OMFG and Dolly goes there, quoting "I Will Only Love You" for the first time on the album. Will the video recreate the original? We can only wait. 

"Satisfaction" done as a trio with Pink and Brandi Carlile is a proper stomper and quite fun. 

When Lizzo and her flute turn up for "Stairway to Heaven" we know we have truly reached peak 2023 weirdness but it works a treat. 

I love the trio of Emmylou Harris, Dolly and Sheryl Crow on "You're No Good", offering a tip of the hat to Linda Ronstadt, who also straddled country and rock back in the day. 

Simon Le Bon, Steve Perry, Rob Halford and John Fogerty offer very little on their tracks but thanks for coming. 

The truly bonkers  finale features Dolly soloing on "Free Bird" and then basically restarting the song and duetting with the corpse of Ronnie Van Zant, courtesy of his widow allowing her the use of his original vocals. 10:45 is the duration of this album closer. It's exhausting and exhilarating. 

Plus, there are B-sides and extended versions I have not heard. The mind boggles. Truly, Dolly, you are too generous. 

Honestly, this is the most fun I have had listening to an album in ages. 

BFI London Film Festival highlights

 I say highlights, but they are simply a sampling of what I saw. Not much, but how wonderful to be able to go out to the cinema again! I am cautious--I mask and distance as much as I can, and hardly anyone else does, which is disconcerting. But I was thrilled to be able to sit in a cinema seat and watch a screen. 

Actually, Curzon Soho's cinema 2 worked out well for me, because I was in the back row and on the end, in what felt like was the usher's seat. Ample legroom and nobody near me. Hurrah!

The films. Well, I only saw two features, both by celebrated auteurs but with very different outcomes. I am embarrassed to say I had never seen anything by Aki Kaurismäki before, though I know him by reputation. His latest, Fallen Leaves, is a curiously slight piece of work, at heart a two hander of lonely man and woman pursuing each other. There are other minor characters and also a dog, but really it's just those two being awkward and laconic and not much happens. The Ukraine war is on the radio as a backdrop, but I am not sure of the significance. The humour is dry and the performances were good but I was left unmoved by the thing. 

Todd Haynes' May December is a different beast, an unsettling expose of human denial, betrayal and deceit. I was a bit shaken by it. Julianne Moore and Natalie Portman are excellent as subject and actress playing subject. Their dance of power is played out as a slow burn over the film's length, with excellent support from Charles Melton as Moore's husband. I will say no more. 

As usual for the last few years, I also watched the shorts available online and found a few of note. Khabur (dir Nafis Fathollahzadeh) explores the ethnographic studies Germans made of their excavations of a site in Syria in the early 20th century. The director repurposes these to expose the assumptions of superiority and exploitation behind the works. She then gives voice to one statue as it sits in the Pergamon Museum in Berlin. I found the sound mix a bit iffy, but the film is strong. 

Essex Girls  (dir Yero Timi-Biu) is a contemporary story of a girl navigating different social groups and trying to find her place in among them. Well acted and features Corinna Brown (Tara in Heartstopper!) in a supporting role. 

The other one I really liked was an animation, Boat People (dir Thao Lam and Kjell Boersma), which is the director's remembrances of leaving Vietnam with her family as a very young child. What she knew then and understands now are of course quite different. 

I hoped to get to some of the art exhibits but did not. It was good to be back. 

Fringe! Queer Arts and Film Festival

 The festival finished last week but I have taken some time to finish watching films and gather my thoughts. 

Naturally, I spent a bit of time pondering my own film, Lactasia, which made its belated UK debut. The screening was socially distanced and relaxed and was somewhat masked. It certainly was a new experience for me to see people lying on bean bags at a festival screening. We were even offered gay masks! Well, rainbow ones. I have kept one as a souvenir. 

Here is a pic of the installation I put up at Rich Mix for my screening. 

But the other films I saw ranged from the high camp of Captain Faggotron to a whole programme of witchy experimental shorts. Captain Faggotron was great fun and a distant cousin to Lactasia in its B-movie values and humour. And it was set in Berlin, which is always a delight to see on film. 

I also saw a newly digitised version of Lesbian Avengers Eat Fire Too, which is an old favourite of mine. It looked great and it's always great to spend time with these amazing activists, now seen at a distance of 30 years. I think a lot of the youngers viewers were really impressed by what they saw and some women told me they wished they had been there. I had, of course, and was wearing my Lesbian Avengers T-shirt to prove it!

I viewed several shorts programmes, including the romance-themed Queer Summer Lovin'. The standout in this programme was definitely Youssou & Malek, which was very clever and beautifully shot. The two leads had great chemistry as a young couple faces being split up by life choices. 

The end of my attendance at the festival in a live capacity was the shorts programme Enchanted Visions, which featured an array of truly baffling and bewitching films, some more abstruse than others. I am not sure I truly understood any of them, in fact, but that may have been because I was utterly exhausted by that point. 

Suffice to say it was an exciting week for me, my first live festival in three years and a chance for people to see what I have been working on for eight years, too. 

Made in East London

Tomorrow my film Lactasia gets its UK premiere at Fringe! Queer Film and Arts Festival in London. It's been a long process to get to this point, with many bumps in the road, not least Covid which delayed our post-production process by two years. 

still from Lactasia

Nonetheless, it's gratifying to finally get the chance to see the film on a proper cinema screen with an audience. And the film is very much steeped in East London, from its references, to its rehearsals, to its locations. Here I shall run through a bit of what that looks like. 

Rich Mix, the venue where the film is showing tomorrow, was the site of our rehearsals for our zombies, who stalk the film with their quest to find The Others. Two of the three zombies showed up for this meeting in September 2017, as we worked through what zombie drag queens sound like and how they move. It was great fun working through this. 

still from Lactasia

The montage sequences sprinkled throughout the film were largely shot in Shoreditch and Bethnal Green as I wandered up and down shooting interesting backdrops with a particular interest in street art such as murals and graffiti. Many of these, of course, no longer exist, as street art is usually ephemeral, unless it's Banksy's! But I felt that capturing a snap shot of how those streets looked at that moment gave the film a particular feeling of NOW. 

still from Lactasia

The climactic scenes at a goth club were shot in Bow, and I confess I have not been back since we shot there in 2019 but I assume the railway bridge is still there, quite eerie at night. 

Since our production and post process was so long, entire locations have disappeared. Some scenes were shot with the actors walking past such buildings as Mirth and Percy Ingle which have shut down. 

I have an especial fondness for a particular small alleyway in Walthamstow where our scenes of zombies trudging past a busker were soundtracked by the local sparrows in full song. I loved that sound, not quiet as the alleyway has been supplanted by blocks of flats. I hope the birds have found a new and better home. 

Elizabeth Fraser at 60

 Happy Birthday, Ms. Fraser!

Can it be 41 years since Cocteau Twins' first album, Garlands? Here's a live version of "Wax and Wane", my favourite of their early work. 

And now she has a new creative outlet courtesy of Sun's Signature with her partner Damon Reece. 

I had the pleasure of speaking to Liz back in the 1990s when she talked of lacking confidence to venture out on her own. She was working with tape loops and really enjoying herself. It's take far to long to hear her post-Cocteaus work but damn if "Underwater", which was released under her own name years back and has now been reworked for the duo, isn't a gorgeous piece of work. The irony of it having a lyric video, when for years, Liz refused to release her lyrics, is quite amusing. 

Many happy returns, madam.

RIP Sinéad

 This one is hard. Like many I have spent the last 24 hours immersed in the incredible back catalogue of Sinéad O'Connor who passed yesterday at age 56. 

"Be kind to Generation X," someone wrote on Twitter, and that is exactly how I feel. One of our own is gone and it really, really hurts. Here is one of my favourite songs by her, performed live in 1988 at a gig I should have been at!

I never met Ms. O'Connor. I'm sad to say I never interviewed her although there were near misses back in the 1990s. Many have amazing interactions to report, her humour, her sharp observations and pointy opinions to the fore. I was just a fan. 

But I can say that in my very polarized lesbian house in San Francisco, where we spanned a range from teens to 30s and from folkie to Riot Grrrl, we only agreed on one thing: we all loved Sinéad. So much so that we erected a shrine to her on one wall of our common room. I donated the poster, in which she slouched staring directly into the lens of the camera. Someone else draped fairy lights around it and a third added a home-made Irish flag. Anyone passing by the flat when the light was on could see it from across the road. That pleased me. She was our beacon. 

Slán abhaile. 

Women Make Movies Pride Month

 In line with their promotion for Women's History Month in March, Women Make Movies, the New York distributor, has offered free access to an array of its films for Pride month. 

I have so far watched four and and am on my fifth, but will concentrate on what I have finished. 

Among the highlights are Esther Newton Made Me Gay (dir Jean Carlomusto), a reflection on the life of the anthropologist who made drag queens her focus in the 1960s. Newton tells her story with a great deal of humour, though serious subjects such as lesbophobia and health issues nibble at the edges. I would have liked to see a bit more of her partner, the performance artist Holly Hughes, but the doc is quite rich with archive footage and interviews with exes, friends and a bit of academic pondering, which is the weakest aspect. 

Another writer, the poet Kitty Tsui, tells her story in Nice Chinese Girls Don't (dir Jennifer Abod), which is very much a piece to camera with a bit of archive footage. Her poems are a highlight of this short piece. 

In Love, Barbara (dir Brydie O’Connor), it falls to Hammer's widow Florrie Burke to tell the story of their relationship and the burden of curating her partner's work. She mentions "turning over the archive" but does not say to where or whom. 

It could end up at the Lesbian Herstory Archives, which gets its due in The Archivettes (dir Megan Rossman), with a range of interviewees reflecting on their time there and its evolution from Joan Nestle's apartment to its dedicated space in Brooklyn. I would have liked a bit more on what is in the archives but the film covers its changing face well. 

Tina and Ronnie

Still digesting the news of Tina Turner's passing and I can't help but think about the parallels with the life of another iconic singer, Ronnie Spector, who passed in 2022: both in the 1960s miniskirt era; both playing with family members in their acts; both involved with abusive men who controlled their careers; both escaping and finally re-emerging in the 1980s. 

Turner had a longer career arc and was able to enjoy a retirement in Switzerland with her second husband. But I see the word "survivor" attached to both and they are both worth remembering for their personal qualities as well as their music. 

I was among those teens who bought Private Dancer in the 1980s and marvelled at Turner's incredibly lived in voice, the strut in her walk in her videos. Later I dug deeper into her oeuvre and appreciated her ability to sing and dance at the same time. See "Proud Mary" for evidence. Wow!

I still have a soft spot for her duet with David Bowie on "Tonight", especially the little boogie they do and the way she throws back her head to laugh at something he says. 

Fly high, Tina. 

Dyke March at 30

Happy Birthday, Dyke March! 

I have written before about the March on Washington for Lesbian, Gay and Bi Equal Rights and Liberation on 25 April 1993. 

But, of course, the night before that was the first ever Dyke March, a smaller but by no means less thrilling affair. It remains one of the greatest experiences of my life, caught up in a sea of drumming, dancing, singing, chanting lesbian humanity, marching from Dupont Circle to the White House, watching rapt as Lesbian Avengers stood in a line and ate fire. 

This video by Lesbian Avengers captures some of the scene. I can still remember some of these people. They are total (s)heroes.

Poets In Vogue

This was a small exhibit tucked away upstairs at the Southbank, in the National Poetry Library I never knew existed. Always good to make cultural discoveries and the exhibit is well worth seeing for the thoughts it inspires and the conversations it sparks.

On show are textiles relating to a handful of women poets. My first thought on arriving was the prevalence of writers known to have mental illness--Stevie Smith, Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton for starters. The items on display are not necessarily original or even created by the writers, which confused me. Plath's skirt hangs next to a record player. But there is a large recreation of a red dress worn by Sexton. And there is a collection of shirt collars for Smith, but it's not clear if they are hers. Gwendolyn Brooks has a large typewriter with exploding forms. Hmm. 

Also of interest are the records displayed, recordings of Smith, Plath and Dame Edith Sitwell, who is given an enormous dress cum boudoir for her display. I have lived in smaller flats than this dress! Dame Edith's recordings show her to be worthy of such a display as she emotes in her best received pronunciation. One can imagine the gestures accompanying such discourse. 

And then there is Audre Lorde, represented by a vivid caftan hanging opposite Sylvia's skirt. The text reveals it was made to accommodate her asymmetrical form post-mastectomy. I wept. 

One participant easy to overlook because it is by the entrance is the display for Theresa Hak Kyung Cha, the one writer with whom I was not familiar. Only when I looked her up did I realise her fascinating story. I wish I had known about her earlier. 

BFI Flare: Warnings from History

 Willem and Frieda is a gripping watch as Stephen Fry wanders present-day Amsterdam, like an absent-minded professor intoning lessons. The city looks lovely, with its lapping canals and twinkling lights. But the story he tells is of an extraordinary band of rebels who defied the occupying Nazis via forgery and sabotage. 

The titular heroes were two creative types, struggling artist Willem Arondeus and cellist Frieda Belinfante. Both were openly gay and when called, they stepped up and became part of a forgery circle producing legal documents to allow Jews and other hunted citizens to escape. 

The climax is an attack on the Population Registry, to sabotage the Nazis matching up the forgeries with the genuine documents. This would make a brilliant film in its own right. One can only admire the guts and determination to take a stand. The attack was on 27 March 1943, so a recent anniversary. One hopes there is at least a plaque commemorating it. 

The short doc Golden Voice brings us another astonishing story, of a trans man who met his wife  when both were working as forced labour under the Khmer Rouge in 1979. The story-telling is poor, a mix of badly recorded interviews and random shots of people wandering fields, but underneath is a tale of fortitude and self confidence. 

BFI Flare: Sting in the Tail

Next up are two features that are ostensibly comedies but end up being a bit more than expected. Jess Plus None starts with a woman masturbating and ends with her at the side of the road making a decision about her future. In between Jess attends the wedding of her best friend and all hell breaks loose. Most of the action takes place on a campsite, the second film I've seen at the festival (Big Boys) to do so. Although the film is set up to see Jess confronting her ex, Sam, at the wedding, it veers off in an unexpected direction which is refreshing. The titular character does a lot of cringey things, some of them unpleasant, and it's not as funny as one might expect, but I like the way it brings uncertainty and spirituality into the mix.

Egghead and Twinkie

I spent several days watching Egghead and Twinkie, as I found it overly busy and needlessly gimmicky, but that is apparently in tune with its Generation Z aesthetic--lots of flashing animation and bright colours. At its heart it is about a friendship that is tested over a roadtrip spanning several days with the two title characters revealing secrets that test their relationship. The best character is the boba girl they meet in a diner as the film jumps back and forth in time and the duo get in and out of scrapes as they make their trip. It felt a bit glib but I enjoyed the performances and the message. It's a welcome change to see friendship foregrounded over romance and with a bit of comedy thrown in, to boot.

BFI Flare: Drifting

Drifter

The festival finishes today but I may yet review some more films after that. For today I shall cover last night's closing night film, Drifter, from Germany. While the first shot is an explicit one of a hand job, the rest of the film is a bit coy although there is an abundance of sexuality on show. Moritz, newly arrived in Berlin, has no particular plans other than with his boyfriend, who quickly drops him. Thereafter the main character wanders from scene to scene, being picked up and invited in by all and sundry. He is curiously passive, a blank canvas to be painted on over and over, as everyone seems to be attracted by his slim build, smooth skin and bland features. 

I wondered at the message of the film, as he never  seems fully immersed in anything and adopts whatever masks his peers are wearing. There is an extraordinary scene set in the wet room of a club and the performers all throw themselves into the action, but it feels a bit meh by the end. 

Of the many shorts I have watched, I was especially taken by Oisín, an Irish film centring on a single mum and her young son who is autistic. Shot in a style that makes you question reality, it is a very affecting family portrait as well as an unexpected girl meets girl story with a charismatic performance by Sarah Jane Seymour as the next door neighbour full of intentions. 

Also worth a look is I Was Never Really Here, as two young men form an attachment under the shadow of immigration decisions. It's beautifully shot on actual film!

Kitchen Sink Fantasy

Kitchen Sink Fantasy is a quirky sci fi comedy bursting with colour, as a shapeshifter goes on a quest, abetted by a Fairy Godmum. 

Life in Love: Cinthia & Robyn is either a doc or a very realist fiction film featuring a couple celebrating a birthday with the added complication that the birthday girl is an introvert. I enjoyed seeing their interactions with another couple wandering the streets. I did wonder why they broke into a property to smash cutlery but OK. 

BFI Flare: Crowdpleaser

I am still working my way slowly through the online offerings for this year's Flare, but I want to say how amazing it felt to attend in person for the first time since 2019. I had one short screening but to settle into the plush seats and see something on the big screen for the first time since January 2020 was lit. Will review that one later on. 

But Polarized is probably something that would look good on the big screen, with its wide open vistas showing acres of lush Canadian farm country. Shamim Sarif's drama follows her other films in foregrounding forbidden love, in this instance between white farmer Lisa and her employer, Palestinean emigre Dalia, who is engaged to a man. Oh, No!

No spoilers but hmmm. I wonder if they get together? The first 20 minutes are rather painful in cramming in the exposition but once it gets going, the film maintains interest as the two women grapple with their difficult families and try to be true to themselves. Kudos to the two leads Holly Deveaux and Maxine Denis for their chemistry and Deveaux also sings quite well. The ending is a bit rushed and unsatisfying but there is drama aplenty in this small town....

Home

Among the shorts viewed was Home, which I found intriguing but hard to hear in places. I was less enamoured of The Dads, which seemed oddly pleased with itself as the fathers of various LGBT kids gathered for a fishing trip to share their feelings. It seemed perfunctory and superficial to me. Grace and Sophie was amusing in its depiction of the awkward morning after, but the camerawork was all over the place with its oddly shifting focus and it distracted from the story. 

And then there's A Different Place which puts two women in one hotel room for a totally unbelievable chat about honesty before they go back to their respective lives after a night of passion. A whole other kind of crowd pleasing.

BFI Flare: Difficult Age

If the last post looked at films exploring the golden years, this one looks at films covering the teen years, that oh so difficult time of confusion, soaring hormones and parental disapproval. 

Big Boys

The US indie comedy Big Boys takes us on a camping trip with 14-year-old Jamie, his older brother, their older cousin and her hunky boyfriend Dan. Dan will prove pivotal in this, just saying. Jamie is a big lad with a high pitched voice and a very horny older brother who goads him into unfortunate escapades like stealing liquor and chatting up girls he is not really interested in. There is a lot of cringe in this film, as we watch Jamie try to be what everyone else wants him to be while secretly nurturing a crush on Dan. The film takes its time and I found myself losing patience with it several times, but the last 20 minutes are quite good and the film lingers in the mind. 

The South Korean drama XX + XY is a curiosity, a BL-inspired series that has been compressed into a film, with iffy results. The lead character, Jay, is intersex and just starting at a new school, accompanied by best friend Sera. Jay attracts the attentions of Wooram who does not know Jay's gender status and is confused when he finds himself falling for someone he thinks is a boy. In better hands this could be a whimsical comedy or serious drama, but in fact it's a bit of a mess. The lead has no chemistry with any of the possible romantic partners and a sub plot involving blackmail and humiliation is quite creepy. The ending suggests a sequel, which possibly means a season two in Korea. Maybe it works better on the small screen. 

BFI Flare: Grey Power

Jewelle: a Just Vision

The word legacy is thrown around a lot in Jewelle: A Just Vision, which I find interesting, as the writer Jewelle Gomez is still with us at 74, still working and still fighting. I am sure she would like to be appreciated now and not just in future, so it's good that Madeleine Lim made this doc. I well remember Gomez from my time in SF and her book The Gilda Stories remains a touchstone for black lesbian literature. 

Watching the doc, I found out a lot about her early life in Boston, her family origins and her interactions with a whole bunch of circles in NYC, SF and beyond. I hope a new generation discovers her now when they can still see her in action. 

The short G Flat, starring Richard Wilson, showcases a rather sadder older life, as a man struggles to adapt to his reduced circumstances and finds brief comfort in the shape of a sex worker. 

Another short, Where Do All the Old Gays Go?, looks at a range of older LGBT folk in Ireland although I was surprised to find no bisexuals among them. The lesbian couple were total couple's goals, however. 

Afterparty is a bit of a puzzle, as a man played by David Hoyle gets into a bath and is joined by party people one assumes are from his past. 

BFI Flare: 5 Films for Freedom 2023

 Hurrah! Flare is back. In fact, I should have been attending the immersive experience today but transport strikes put paid to that. I hope to get back to the festival but for now will be reviewing online material. 

So, this year's edition of 5 Films for Freedom includes dramas from Guyana, Nigeria, Cyprus and Northern Ireland, plus a comedy from South Korea. Here are my picks. 

Butch Up! ( dir Yu-Jin Lee) features a lovelorn singer who splits from her band and winds up in a new one. I found the end song quite catchy and the lyrics are filthy! Good fun. 

Buffer Zone (dir Savvas Stavrou) starts off quite solemnly, bursts into high camp with a duet across a border zone, and ends solemnly again. It's a great premise for a musical, as two soldiers gaze at each other and express repressed desires through song. 

All I Know (dir Obinna Robert Onyeri) is the best of the bunch, an intense drama in which revealing what you know about your missing friend could put him in worse danger. It feels like a proof of concept for a longer film but the ending lets it down. 

The Thing

So, by now we have all had a week to digest the furore surrounding Ariana De Bose's performance at last week's BAFTAs. Interestingly, I have not been able to find a clip of her full number, but the rap that spawned a thousand memes is easy enough to locate. 

Tasked with celebrating women, DeBose inserted a rap in her musical homage of "Sisters Are Doing it for Themselves" namechecking the female nominees in the room, including Cate Blanchett, Michelle Yeoh and Angela Bassett. Some of the rhymes seemed rather random, if harmless. 

    Blanchett Cate/You're a genius

    And Jamie Lee/You're all of us

Not so the social media reaction to the line "Angela Bassett did the thing", which led Oscar winner DeBose to deactivate Twitter. This clips sums it up well. 

But if she re-emerges, DeBose will find support from many quarters including Wanda Sykes, Adele, Lizzo and Ms. Bassett herself. Indeed, she really did The Thing. Lighten up, peeps. 

Soheila Sokhanvari: Rebel Rebel

I finally got out to see an exhibit! Since I have been lying low during the pandemic, I have rarely ventured into a gallery. But since I was meeting my old chum B., we decided to take in an exhibition. 

Rebel Rebel was a good choice. The Curve at the Barbican is a unique space which begs the visitor to take a journey. Sokhanvari has installed her paintings of a range of iconic Iranian women along its length, the small egg tempera pieces placed on a backdrop of geometric patterns recalling traditional Islamic art work. 

It's a sumptuous mix of pop art, portraiture and Iranian cultural history, as the artist places her subjects, among them directors, singers and actors, against vivid backdrops of rugs, curtains and walls all brilliantly coloured and patterned. The names were all new to me but well known in their times: Delkash was the first woman to cross dress on screen. Kobra Saeedi was an actor and writer who decried sexism and now lives in obscurity. Ramesh was a pop singer who fused genres. And many more besides.

At the end of the space is a giant mirrored screen showing some of the films of the subjects. When one reads the biographies of these amazing women it is sobering to hear how often their voices were silenced by the 1979 revolution. Some emigrated, some were imprisoned and others disappeared from view. Many died young. The triumph of the exhibit is to see them rendered as bursting with life and in full voice. 

Rebel Rebel continues until 26 February 2023 at the Barbican Centre in London. 

End of 2022 Thoughts

I usually find myself in a reflective mood toward the end of any year. I recount highlights and favourite books or films. This year, though, I really could not think of any cultural products that stood out. Partly that is because I am still not going out, but also because what I did read, listen to or watch did not seem especially note-worthy. 

However, I did find some wonderful moments to recount for my end of year thoughts. I have already blogged about the astonishing late acclaim for "Running Up That Hill", which remains one of the highlights of 2022 for me. 

To this I will add the colossal win of England's Lionesses to take home the Euros trophy. I was cheering as loudly as I could. I am so, so pleased that this has led to a real breakthrough for women's sport in the UK, with opportunities opening up not just for more participation in sport but also commercial opportunities for the players, everything from appearing on soaps to receiving awards. It is long overdue. 

The Euros campaign is recounted in this online documentary.

I also very much enjoyed the odd Twitter storm, such as when Lizzo played Pres James Madison's crystal flute. This appealed to me on so many levels, being a former flute nerd as a kid. Nobody liked this instrument! It was played by turtleneck-wearing men! Now it's played by amazing all round performers and nothing is more bling than a crystal flute. Kudos to the Library of Congress for inviting Lizzo in to try it out, horrifying gammon everywhere.

And my final moment also loomed large on the Twittersphere recently, when Greta Thunberg took out a misogynist with some well placed words. Delightful!

I wish all a calm, peaceful, inspiring 2023. 

Remember My Name

 Farewell then singer and actress Irene Cara whose passing was announced today. I was immediately struck by youthful pangs of idolatry, recalling her singing not one but two immensely popular title tracks from musical films, Fame and Flashdance. By the time Flashdance came out, I was old enough to see the film and buy the soundtrack which I wore out on the family turntable. It was groundbreaking to see a woman welder who also danced and flirted confidently with her love interest. The dancing was out of this world. 

Fame, however, came out when I was too young to see it and I knew of it only from reputation for years. But as a kid growing up in NYC I was mesmerised by the clips I saw of teenagers dancing and singing in the streets of Manhattan, of taut, thrusting bodies in body-hugging gear and leg warmers. How we all obsessed over leg warmers in those days. It really was a thing. We all wanted to attend the School of Performing Arts, too. The closest I came was when our high school choir performed a medley from Fame. 

As an adult I finally saw the film and was struck by how intense it was, how it dealt with serious issues like family abuse, exploitation, and so forth. I don't know why I am so surprised that a musical can also be a serious film, even knowing how Dirty Dancing and Footloose also addressed contemporary issues. I found out only today that Irene Cara was from the Bronx, which gives added resonance as that is my hometown, too. 

Decades on from its release, I still get a thrill seeing those kids dance onto the street and walk over those cars. RIP Irene. 

London Film Festival Shorts for Free 2022

 Once again this year I was not able to attend LFF but I did catch their Shorts for Free that were available online, with today being the last day to view.

It was quite a variable selection in terms of theme and quality. I was surprised to learn Dropout (writer/ dir Ade Femzo) won the audience award for best film, as I found it pleasant but unremarkable, a boy hiding the news of his music career taking off from his mum who wants him to stay in uni. John Boyega had some behind the scenes involvement, so perhaps that connection gave the film a publicity boost. 

The Chinese film I Have No Legs, and I Must Run won the festival's best short award, which is more understandable. It is an unsettling, atmospheric watch steepd in homoeroticism , as two runners compete for a place on the team, forcing each other to greater and greater effort until one of them breaks down. Director Yue Li makes references to pigs in a cage as his two leads work under the beady eye of a demanding coach. 

The other standout for me was Transparent, dancer Siobhan Davies' autobiographical reflection on her motivations and themes, beautifully shot and imaginatively rendered. I also recognised some of the East London locations. 

Several of the films I found annoyingly pretentious, but there were a couple other queer ones I want to mention. An Avocado Pit (dir Ary Zara) brings together a sex worker and potential client for a roam around Lisbon. Very talky but prettily shot. 

Checoslovaquia (dir Dennis Perinango), a Peruvian film, feels like the start of a longer work, as a mechanic-cum-taxi driver becomes entwined in the lives of the queer folk he spies on playing volleyball at the local river (as you do). His struggles with his own toxic masculinity play out over the course of the film and the title has something to do with a sport he watched as a youngster but this was not well rendered in the translated subtitles so I was left confused. The ending, too, feels rushed but it feels like the core of an excellent longer film is there. 

Fringe! Shorts: weird and wonderful

This year, as with the last, I am not able to attend Fringe! festival in person but the queer film festival is offering Fringe! From Home options which is welcome. 

So far I have viewed two shorts programmes and will extract the standouts for this post. 

The French long short Daughters of Destiny (dir. Valentin Noujaïm) is an absorbing atmospheric sci-fi tale of three young women being kidnapped by aliens who claim to have a paradise that looks a lot like a smoky queer night club. I found it quite imaginative and with resonances of Girlhood. It could also be expanded into a feature, should the filmmaker wish it. 

ELIZA (dir. Amy Pennington) is a comic mockumentary about lesser known poet Eliza Cook who wrote in the 19th century. I was slightly confused as to why the actor had a heavy Northern accent while claiming to be from London, but it was quite amusing to see the Victorian-clad poet wandering around present day Kent reminiscing about the last time she was there.

Another comedic short, How To Sex Your Cannabis (dir. Ryan Suits) uses facts about cannabis to make points about gender expression. A great example of using DIY techniques to create a world. 

Some films cross genres. A wild patience has taken me here (dir. Érica Sarmet) at first appears to be a documentary, as a Brazilian lesbian speaks to camera and then takes tea with her cat at home. Once she goes out, however, she meets up with four younger dykes and suddenly the film seems to be some kind of intergenerational fantasy in which everyone has sex and makes vlogs. Most odd. 

More sedate in tone is I was looking for you (dir. Georgia Helen Twigg) in which a woman bakes using a recipe from an older woman she realises recognised her as a kindred spirit. It poses the intriguing question as to whether people can see more in us than we do ourselves. Quietly affecting. 

Also bowing to queer elders is the futuristic comedy Don't Text Your Ex (dir. Jo Güstin) in which a filmmaker interviews an older couple who offer nuggets of wisdom and not a little swearing. The best bit is the end credits which read as text exchanges of the cast and crew. Quite clever. 

Vanishing Mysterious Cult Artist

I was struck by the language used in describing the career and death of Diane Luckey, whose nom de plume was Q Lazzarus. The singer, who died in July, had songs on four Jonathan Demme films, but never had a recording contract. She disappeared from public view after the release of Philadelphia, only re-emerging to connect with a filmmaker who is now making a documentary about her. 

Even Luckey's age was disputed, some publications noting it as 60 and some as 62. It's quite unusual in the digital age for any public figure, no matter how cult, to not have details of birth, death and everything in between on the record. Wikipedia has revealed many birth dates certain actors would rather not have publicised. 

For my part, I was ignorant of Q Lazzarus's music, even though it was featured on several films I have seen. I loved the Something Wild soundtrack but never noticed her song. 

Since her passing, I have made the acquaintance of her best known song, "Goodbye Horses", featured on not one but two Jonathan Demme film soundtracks. What a haunting piece it is! I don't know how I missed it. Or her. One hopes the upcoming documentary will fill in the gaps and offer an appreciation of her. 

Slow Burn

Happy 64th birthday to Ms. Kate Bush! Or Happy Katemas to those in the fandom. Surely this month must mark one of the most unexpected career boosts of any artist of this century, at least. All those young'uns cheering on Max fleeing Vecna in Stranger Things have helped get "Running Up That Hill" to number one in several countries. 

Those of us old enough to remember the original release can only marvel at its sudden ubiquity after 36 years. But, tortoise and hare and all that. 

But today is also The Most Wuthering Heights Day Ever, as thousands flock to perform the iconic dance that accompanied Bush's debut single in 1978. I have seen videos from Australia but had not realised it happens in other places, as well. Why not London? Next year, definitely. 

Also, happy birthday to Emily Brontë who started it all in 1818. 

Whitstable Biennale

 It was great to get back to this event after six years, but the date I chose was the hottest day of the year, so my memories are slightly blurred by heat exhaustion. Beautiful sea and sky and absolute crowds on the beach made getting inside to exhibits quite the feat. 

First up was old reliable Horsebridge Arts Centre which had two exhibits. Downstairs was Savinder Bual's Fade + High and Low, two water-powered works requiring topping up by human beings, which I thought was novel, if labour intensive. 

Upstairs was a viewing room to see two films by Sonya Dyer. I caught The Betsey Drake Equation, which juxtaposed two white male scientists discussing cosmology with a black female dancer interrupting the discourse. I am told cosmology is quite in right now. 

Jennet Thomas's The Great Curdling was a baffling, bonkers film screened in The Old Bank which had me guffawing out loud. A bit sci-fi, a bit high school musical, it featured characters in the future lamenting the loss of the sea through recitals and songs and dodging low fi special effects. I missed the accompanying live performance. 

This film and several exhibits had to be moved from The Cockle Shed owing to a fire and I never found the new location for Sarah Craske's An Eco-Hauntology, which I was looking forward to seeing.  

I did stumble on Chromatic Agency's Ephemeral Evidence while wandering down a side street. Two versions of the film play out on a screen while a giant lump of clay is available to mark. The film details Southern Water's release of raw sewage into the sea and asks who speaks for the sea? 

My final visit was a long trek to the library to view Alicia Radage's installation MOTHER BENT, which took up a whole room upstairs in the lecture hall. The floor was covered in dirt which had screens and sculptures of body parts pointing upward. Sounds came through speakers while headphones offered additional sounds. I spent quite a lot of time here and allowed myself to really get immersed. I did not see the additional works in the adjacent library. 

What was surprising this year was the lack of a Biennale HQ to offer a gathering place for visitors. Venues did not seem to know about events at other spaces. It would have been good to feel more of a connection with other visitors to the festival. But a day out in Whitstable offers its own connections, to the sea and shore and of course the gorgeous sky. 

Creating Change

Farewell then to the tireless activist Urvashi Vaid whose passing was announced last week. I met her in the early 1990s while strolling down Castro Street in San Francisco, stopped her for a chat and ended up exchanging details with her to set up an interview. All this while her partner, the comedian Kate Clinton, waited patiently by her side. 

Just before we parted, Vaid reached into her trouser pocket, pulled out a rather crumpled object and told me to listen to it. It was Clinton's latest album. I left impressed by them both. 

Eventually, we did speak and I wrote up the interview for Deneuve magazine. I saw her speak at several events including Creating Change West in 1991 and the March on Washington in 1993 and she was always forceful, charismatic and on point. 

I lost touch once I moved to the UK, but I always found Urv an inspiring figure and a much-needed leader in many overlapping communities. My deepest sympathies to Kate Clinton. 

Here is an interview with Vaid and Clinton from 2014. 

BFI Flare: Unsaid

So, this really will be my final post for this year's Flare. My last feature is The Sound of Scars, a doc on the rock band Life of Agony. Knowing nothing of their story, I was pleased to learn they were from Brooklyn. Always good to hear some authentic NYC accents. Singer Mina Caputo had transitioned some years back, in between band break-ups, and this was one stream of the film, another being that several members of the band had suffered traumatic childhoods. A lot of footage showed young boys in various states of rough and tumble. I had rather expected Mina Caputo to reflect on the lasting scars of toxic masculinity in the scene, but this theme was notable by its absence. 

Reflecting back on 1990s hardcore, I remember it was this very strain that alienated so many girls and women from attending gigs, let alone joining bands. What a missed opportunity. Anyway, the band have a new drummer and album and seem to be putting things back together. 

The short Borekas is largely a two-hander of a father and son leaving much unsaid as the latter prepares to fly back from his homeland to his life in Munich. The fumbling of the father and the angst of the sun are well played and the final awkward pat on the back is poignant. 

Syed Family...

And for a final heart-warming family comedy, there is The Syed Family Xmas Eve Game Night, a mouthful to say and replete with cringey moments of recognition, as little sister brings her girlfriend home for the titular event. Actor turned director Fawzia Mirza brings order to chaos, wringing out every last drop of tension and humour from the making of a pot of chai. Coquitos all around!

BFI Flare: Making Space

 I am coming to the end of my Flare viewing and have a trio of films to explore, all of which deal with repression, tradition and making space when it is not offered. 

Terence Davies' drama Benediction is a languid depiction of the life and loves of Siegfried Sassoon, best know as a First World War poet. Davies uses a lot of archive footage from the front, as well as having actor Jack Lowden, who plays Sassoon, voice his poems, but this really unbalances the film. I found the poems to be the least affecting aspect of the drama and was more interested in Sassoon's relationships with his peers. Later in life he married a woman, despite being gay and the film also has disconcerting flashes forward to him as an older man converting to Catholicism and arguing with his son. The whole thing dragged badly and I wished Davies had trimmed the film down. 

Camila Comes Out Tonight is an Argentine drama about a teenager finding life in Buenos Aires to be somewhat out of her comfort zone. Dragged their by her mother as her grandmother lies dying in hospital, Camila meets a boy, then a girl and finds herself negotiating her sexuality as her relationship with her mum becomes strained. The first hour is absolutely tedious but the last act is incredible, with secrets aired and revenge enacted in a way I found delightful. It's rare for a film to depict intergenerational family relationships in a way that is fair to all and it is also refreshing to see the street protests in Argentina given air time. Seeing girls chanting My Body, My Business was a fist-pumping moment for me. 

Gateways Grind

And finally, Gateways Grind is a TV show masquerading as a film that is littered with delightful anecdotes and archival footage as Sandi Toksvig rides around London in a cab offering a history of the historic lesbian nightspot The Gateways Club which closed in 1985. There is a lot of dish, especially around the filming of The Killing of Sister George, but also about the staff and patrons of the club. I was utterly fascinated by the story of proprietor Gina Ware, who was married to the owner but had a close relationship with bar woman Smithy, as told by Ware's daughter. They deserve their own film. A wonderful watch. 

BFI Flare: Under Pressure

Though the festival has finished, I am slowly working my way through titles I did not have access to while it was on. Today I am looking at films that feature characters in sticky situations. 

The Divide opens with a woman frantically texting her sleeping partner who is in bed next to her snoring. Great opening and from there the film wends its way, equal parts humour and trauma, as various characters find themselves at a local hospital as the gilets jaunes protests take place in Paris. Not having paid that much attention to French politics, I was not entirely clear what the sides where in this dispute, but writer-director Catherine Corsini uses this particular divide to map out a complex range of positions, loyalties and identities. The lesbian couple, Raf and Julie, were breaking up before they arrived at the hospital and as tensions rise, the strains on everyone show. At one point, someone shouts, "The hospital is falling apart!" and I thought of our dear NHS, so badly treated by successive governments. Special shout-out to nurse Kim who holds it all together. A brilliant piece of work. 

In Invisible: Gay Women in Southern Music, the pressures are caused by bigotry, tradition and homophobia. We meet a range of queer women who work or have worked in the field of country music. Awesome to think how many hits were written by lesbians. But, as the film shows, Nashville is not nearly so understanding of queer women performers and some of those on show, such as Dianne Davidson, lost their careers as performers when they came out. But the film is a bit meandering and director-screenwriter TJ Parsell could easily lose 20 minutes or so to make it more punchy and impactful. I was also annoyed at how Chely Wright is introduced about 65 minutes in as a cautionary tale and then just left hanging. I googled and found she is still making music and has become an activist. So, why not tell us that? There are also a couple of shocks, as veteran performers turn up and don't quite look as we remembered.... 

BFI Flare: Boulevard!

It seems appropriate as the stars gather in Hollywood tonight to celebrate their successes at the Academy Awards that we consider the queer art of failure. Boulevard! A Hollywood Story does just that, charting the quite incredible but true story of Gloria Swanson's attempt to turn her cinematic triumph Sunset Boulevard into a Broadway musical in the 1950s.

As camp as Sunset Boulevard is and especially the character of Norma Desmond, a faded star who launched a thousand drag numbers, the queer interest in this documentary is found in the two young men who wrote the musical, Dickson Hughes and Richard Stapley, who were a romantic as well as professional couple. 

As the three attempt to make the show work, the collaboration falls apart when Swanson falls for Stapley and the two men break up and go their separate ways. And it gets stranger. 

Hughes, Swanson and Stapley at work

As the documentarian Jeffrey Schwarz makes calls and unearths dusty boxes of ephemera, the truth unfolds in a way scarcely credible. Stapley had a film and TV career as actor Richard Wyler, while Hughes played piano for Marianne Williamson. 

Swanson of course continued on her merry way being a star, long after the roles dried up. All three found the later years difficult, mirroring Ms. Desmond. A Sunset Boulevard curse or the unforgiving nature of Hollywood? 

BFI Flare: Melodrama Queens

 I approached Fragrance of the First Flower with great interest. Lauded as Taiwan's first GL, it features a great meet cute that proves to be a meet again cute as two women who knew each other in high school get reacquainted. But how well did they know each other before? And how close will they get? The problem with the film is it is not really a film but a web series that has been stitched together, which creates problems with pacing and story-telling. At only 99 minutes, it still felt quite drawn out to me and by the end I was losing interest owing to the lurch into melodrama. Would it be too much if a story involving two women could be a bit more upbeat? Apparently, a second series is in the works. Probably best watched in episodes online. 

Similarly, the short Fever sets up a good premise as an inter-racial couple head to one guy's house for his mother's birthday party, before underlying issues in their relationship come to the fore. The explosive finale plays out as rather am-dram and totally undercuts the build-up of tension that precedes it. Quite disappointing.  

BFI Flare: Queering the Archive

 Almost a week into the festival and I have finally completed a feature! And what a film! Ultraviolette and the Blood Spitters Gang is a French art doc with an extraordinary backstory. Director Robin Hunzinger collaborated with his mother Claudie to tell the story of Emma and Marcelle, two young women who met in 1923 and had a love affair which played out in the latter stages in letters sent by Marcelle to Emma (Robin's grandmother and Claudie's mother). After Emma's death, the two descendants found the letters and have used them to narrate this beautifully realised, affecting story of persistent desire. 

It took me awhile to realise most of the images were not of the two lovers but from found footage also also from art films. I recognised scenes from Meshes of the Afternoon and Mädchen in Uniform but the credits revealed work by Leger, Dulac and Moholy-Nagy as well. It's a bold move to drop those into such a personal story. I also admired the strong use of archive footage, the queering of images of women in the countryside, women dancing, women on bicycles, women wearing ties. This was truly a queering of the archive. 

Separated by work and academic commitments, Marcelle writes passionately about her feelings for Emma but also about her own life philosophy, stating she has "le goût de la vie". Diagnosed with tuberculosis, she finds herself confined to a sanatorium, where she meets three other rebellious young women and the four of them form a gang. A very queer gang. Marcelle, despite her love for Emma, is quite happy to play the seducer and even brags about it in her letters. Who knew a sanatorium could be such a pick-up joint, especially in 1928?

There are resonances for current day concerns: young women lying in beds in close proximity, attended by doctors, none of them wearing masks. Young women facing death from a communicable illness. Marcelle writes of her friends facing death, which she refuses. She wonders if a lost friend will return to visit. She has the most brilliant way with words, and one wonders if she went on to become a writer, as one of her friends did. 

Needless to say, there can be no really happy ending, not with fatal illness and impending world war. I felt shaken at the end and thrilled to have made the acquaintance of such vibrant beings from another time.

BFI Flare: Shortsighted

 By now I would have hoped to have seen several films and be mulling over themes arising in ye olde fest. But, owing to technical problems, I have not seen any features and only a handful of shorts, all of them available online for free. 

Among this year's crop of Five Films for Freedom is the evocative Frozen Out (dir Hao Zhou), an arty exploration of dislocation through a series of gorgeous static shots of a man marching through snowy settings while a voiceover asks searching questions like "Where am I?". All five films are available to view until 27 March.

Among the shorts available on the BFI player is Do This For Me (dir Marnie Baxter), which unfolds as a bit of a mystery as five women gather in someone's home and record a series of videos addressed to a missing member of their group. This felt a bit like a web series to me and the ending is a bit abrupt, but the women's gossipy interplay is quite well done. 

Reflections

 Here we are in the shortest month of the year and I have been reminded of several anniversaries. It's natural to offer some reflection on days gone by. 

For example, I was startled to note that the last week marked the birthdays of both Audre Lorde and Kurt Cobain. And what would those two have made of each other? I remember their deaths in 1992 and 1994, respectively, and was immensely saddened by both events. While one was much older than me and the other was a peer, I had enough distance to not mourn personally, but from a distance, wondering what else would they have done?

That has often been a question I have posed myself in hard times: what else might I do? It always spurs me on, thinking about things I might yet accomplish. 

Which brings me to a rather more personal anniversary, as it was seven years ago this week I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Seven years, three diagnoses, three treatment regimes, the works. Still here. Still curious. Still wondering what more is there? Loads more, I think. 

The Stuff of Nightmares: Cats

So, I finally got round to watching Cats last night. It had never made much impression on me, thought it was a big hit on Broadway in the 1980s when I lived in New York and I have liked some other Lloyd Webber shows. 

And then the film came out in 2019. Oh, my. Savage reviews, memes, parodies. But, you know, people like to exaggerate. How bad could it be? Cover me. I'm going in. 

So, it is possible to watch things simultaneously on streaming services with certain apps. My friend L. and I arranged to have a "Netflix Party" to watch Cats in our separate abodes. I pressed Play and off we went. First thing popping up on my screen: the subtitle "Thrilling music". Well, No. It was bang average scene-setting. 

And then the cats appeared, first a timid cat, then street cats. And they were standing on all fours, with hands sticking out and twitchy ears and bits of whiskers and I mean: WTF? Who designed this madness? Are they cat-like humanoids? Humans in cat costumes? What is the concept here? 

And then they started singing in posh English accents. So, they're English cats? In what time period? Hard to tell, as the set design was some kind of weird steampunk vaguely Victorian looking but not really. 

Idris Elba popped up with yellow eyes. Dame Judi Dench popped up with a long fur coat. Rebel Wilson had zippable skin. Poor Jennifer Hudson, the best thing by far in this monstrosity, had an entirely human face with some sad whiskers. She got the only decent song, Memory. Poor Taylor Swift--she had a great entrance, being lowered on a crescent and then had to effect an English accent for her one song. 

By this point my friend and I were openly speculating what drugs the creators of this spectacle were on. She thought LSD and I suggested absinthe. Actually, Lloyd Webber was on coke when he wrote the score. But Tom Hooper, the director, what the hell was his excuse? 

I amused myself during the duller parts by googling who was who and came upon the intriguing notion that cat buttholes were digitally removed in the lengthy post-production. This cheered me up enormously during the 110 minute running time. Finally, it was over. "We did it!" L. typed. Really, we should get medals. 

Someone ran with the butthole concept and here is the evidence. Enjoy. Don't have nightmares. 

Christmas with Netflix

 Much as I would love to offer an end-of-year Best Of full of visits to the cinema, it just hasn't been that kind of year. :)

However, I have managed to visit an extraordinary place full of folk wisdom, romantic encounters and fake snow: Christmas with Netflix. 

It was a few years ago I made my first visit and since then I return annually, the mist lifting on 1 December and closing on 31 December. So many fascinating characters have come my way: hard-bitten executives, heartbroken writers, quite a few social influencers. All of them seeking meaning in their broken lives. And lo! All it takes is a few life lessons offered by the spirit of Christmas. Wow. 

This year I sampled no fewer than 11 Christmas-themed films on Netflix and wowzers. There are some actual rank duds out there. I'm looking at you, A Wish for Christmas. Netflix makes originals but also draws from other networks and my tip is avoid the Hallmark ones. 

But some do actually punch above their weight. I have been pleasantly surprised by the Princess Switch trio, the most recent of which arrived this year. Filmed in Scotland, too, after previously using Romania as a location. 

Single All the Way offered an interracial gay couple as the protagonists, with amusing supporting work from Kathy Najimy and Barry Bostwick. 

Christmas with a View features a chef with stubble and resort manager who could double for Meghan Markle. Great scenery, shame about the script. But Patrick Duffy with a man-bun! Vivica Fox making gingerbread houses! Canadian mountains!

But my favourite Netflix viewing was actually a film I avoided at the cinema two years ago: Last Christmas. Definitely a Whamageddon, as it features the title track many, many times. But it wasn't the wan rom-com I thought it would be. Emma Thompson speaking Serbo-Croat! Henry Golding showing some emotion! Emilia Clarke singing! A lesbian couple! And a message about family conflict and trying again. Plus, a cameo by Broadway legend Patti LuPone. What's not to love?

See you next year. 

Passing

I was quite keen to watch the drama Passing which has arrived on Netflix recently. Adapted from Nella Larsen's novel by Rebecca Hall, who also directs, it's an unexpected debut for the actor turned filmmaker: a 1929 novel set in NYC about the conflagration that erupts when two old school friends reconnect as adults. 

It turns out the storyline of a black woman passing as white had personal significance for the writer-director. I find the concept fascinating for many reasons, but never having read the novel I approached the film in a state of ignorance. 

Passing

Irene, a married woman who lives in Harlem, runs into her former schoolfriend Clare in a chi-chi restaurant, where (it is suggested) both are passing as white. Clare invites a rather reluctant Irene back into her life and the latter realises that Clare's racist husband has no idea his wife is passing. The stage is set for dramatics and the rest of the film unfolds under this tension.

For me, the film of Passing is only partly successful. Ruth Negga as Clare conveys exuberance and flirtation and it definitely feels like Clare is performing the role of a white wife and mother. She actually reminded me a lot of Carol Aird, as played by Cate Blanchett in Carol from her blonde wig to her big gestures and meaningful looks. 

As Irene, Tessa Thompson has the less showy part, but as the film takes place from her POV, the audience has some investment in her character. Nevertheless, I felt the dynamic between the two characters was unclear and I wanted to see more of them and their backstory, rather than the two husbands, the maid, or the white literary lion who hangs around Harlem, commenting on racial difference and whether Irene can tell who is passing. “We’re, all of us, passing for something or the other,” she tells him. 

Indeed, it has been suggested that Larsen's novel was not just about racial passing but sexual, as the relationship between Clare and Irene seems fraught with unspoken desires and complications. I definitely detected some frisson between them but that aspect was definitely downplayed in Hall's telling. 

As I anticipated, things go horribly wrong and the ending is ambiguous and a bit frustrating. No spoilers here. But we really, really do need to know what kind of feeling was shared by Irene and Clare before we can make up our minds. I found the film quite slow, a bit ponderous and not that emotionally involving. However, I will definitely be seeking out Larsen's novel to find out more. 

Monika Werkstatt: MANIA D. / MALARIA! / MATADOR M_Sessions

Quite the undertaking this, as Monika has delved into its back catalogue to focus on three M bands involving founder Gudrun Gut: Mania D., Malaria! and Matador. The musical release offers contemporary artists remixing old tracks, while a second LP offers some rarities, some demos and live tracks. There was also an exhibit that ran in Berlin last week, as well as a forthcoming book I have not seen. 

I was struck by how cohesive the sound was on the remixes, although they were done by artists ranging from AGF to Natalie Beridze and covered all three bands: lots of muttered vocals, bleeps and the odd shrieking sax. It does suggest these bands were ahead of their time, lo- fi in sound but bringing in lots of futuristic touches, such as cut-up vocals, bleeps and odd percussion. The Matador tracks were the least familiar to me, probably the most melodic and conventional but still off-kilter. 

The live tracks which cover 1980-1983 do make me wonder what audiences thought of Malaria! back in the day, what with Bettina's wailing sax and imperious vocals. Wish I'd been there. 

London Film Festival shorts

I didn't actually get to the BFI London Film Festival this year (again), but did watch some of the shorts available on the BFI Player. I watched two programmes, Weird and Wonderful World and My Identity, No Crisis. 

All of the films I really enjoyed came from the latter programme, as the former was long on atmosphere and quite short on satisfying story-telling. Plots and character development I kind of like. 

So, the best of the films I saw included 5 Stars (dir Remi Itani, UK), a drama staged as a documentary in which a women interacts with three Uber drivers over three rides, repeatedly fielding their questions about where she's from. From such a loaded question comes a lot of observations about racial identity and who really belongs, especially as all three drivers have origins outside the UK. Such a clever and knowing film. 

Play It Safe (dir Mitch Kalisa, UK) is a drama set in drama school, as Jonathan tries to negotiate the difficulties in being the only black student in his class. The final scene, which seems to go on for ages, is notable for focusing on the horrified reactions of his classmates, rather than him, as he acts out his assignment. Very well made and tense. 

My favourite, however, was Egungun  [Masquerade] (dir Olive Nwosu, Nigeria) in which Salewa returns to her home country from London to bury her mother. At the funeral she reconnects with someone from her childhood and the stage is set for drama and possible romance. I was cheering the couple on. Really, this could be turned into a feature. Someone, get it made!

Mistress of the Dark Shines Her Light

 Great to hear that the Mistress of the Dark, Elvira, has been sharing her life with a ladyfriend for 19 years. But are we really surprised? The camp innuendo, the raised eyebrow and the enormous beehive have always marked her as in on some old, queer joke. And it reinforces the connection between horror and queerness. Fab. 

Elvira, born Cassandra Peterson, has just released her memoirs, marking 40 years inhabiting the persona of the Mistress of the Dark, and I am trying to remember when I first saw her. Possibly mid-80s on some late-night TV show, which would make me a wide-eyed teen, ready to be inculcated into a cult. 

1981 was also the year that the Oak Ridge Boys released their quite popular cover, "Elvira", celebrating: 

Eyes that look like heaven, lips like sherry wine

That girl can sure enough make my little light shine

Coincidence? I think not. 

Boisterous Longing

 I blame SOTUS. There I was shielding at home in spring 2020 and innocently clicked on a suggestion from Netflix. A series about Thai engineering students? Sure, why not? And that, my friends, was my introduction to boys love dramas. BL, for those in the know. Yaoi for those up on their Japanese anime. The adventures of young Kongpob and his push me-pull you with his senior Arthit had me gripped. 

Here I am 18 months later on my sixth or perhaps seventh BL drama, all variations on a theme: young, good-looking scholarly guys wearing crisp white or pink shirts looking up from their books or screens to exchange meaningful glances with others of similar demeanour. Will they or won't they?

Arthit and Kongpob

Some of them are quite badly acted or clumsily shot. The sound in 'Cause You're My Boy was an abomination.  But then there is always some kind of drama to hold the interest. I even know several actors' handles: Singto, Krist, Off, Gun... They have quite the giddy following, especially among straight women which is the target market. So, it's sort of gay but not gay. 

Ironically, women don't get much of a look-in and the female roles are pretty identikit: a bratty sister, a well-meaning mother, a vengeful ex. Occasionally, there is a BFF as in Puppy Honey, but, really, it is all about the dudes. Once I understood the set-up, I accepted this fact and got quite immersed. Currently, I am watching a mastercut of all Pete and Kao's scenes from Kiss Me Again, meaning I can skip all the straight storylines. This will set me up to watch the rest of Our Skyy so I can see how all of these dramas play out. Then I shall have to find other diversions. 

But the best bit of watching BL? The YouTube comments, especially on the GMMTV episodes. Oh, my, they are a riot! Viewers from the Philippines to Europe weigh in on their favourite characters and actors and the writing is better than the shows. Pass the pink milk!

Aliens at 35

 This week saw the 35th anniversary of the release of Aliens, the epic sequel to 1979's Alien and a rare example of a sequel that matches or surpasses the original. I actually saw Aliens before I saw the original, as I was too young to watch such a violent film in 1979. 

But Aliens. Wow. Sigourney Weaver in control, jaw clenched, eyes blazing, guns firing. Carrie Henn bringing wide-eyed youth to Newt. Michael Biehn as the honourable grunt. And of course Jenette Goldstein bringing the butch to Vasquez. I loved this film when I saw it as a teenager. 

So quotable, such a game-changer and still quite scary, Aliens remains an epic film synthesising horror, action and sci-fi and entrenching Weaver as the iconic action heroine, Ellen Ripley. 

Lesbian Period Drama

 As it's Pride month (and has been for 21 days. Oops. Been busy, ya know?) and um, not really very much is allowed to happen IRL I thought I would post this Saturday Night Live sketch from a couple of months ago when Carey Mulligan hosted. I thought it was extremely well produced and many commenters on Twitter said, "I want to see this film!". I would see it, if only because there are so few lesbian films out there, but, yes, it does, eh, touch on a lot of tired tropes which have irritated some film watchers.  

I see that Bristol Pride's Queer Vision film festival is hosting a discussion online on 12 July called Not another Lesbian period drama! which will consider on-screen representation. In the meantime enjoy SNL's pisstake with a guest appearance by actual lezzer Kate McKinnon. Happy Pride!

xx Alix

Farewell then to the Head Lesbian, Alix Dobkin, who died on 19 May after an aneurysm. Our paths crossed a few times in the 1990s and she offered me some typically barbed quotes for my Deneuve article "From Womyn to Grrrls" in 1993, suggesting certain lyrics that might work as I sought to illustrate parallels between womyn's music and Riot Grrrl. I remember one I selected was "go stick it in some mud". 

The best line, though, was one that did not appear. I knew that Tribe 8, then considered a rather raucous dyke band, wanted to play the womyn's music festival circuit. I pondered how they would be perceived and wondered aloud whether the audience might see some "moshing on the green fields of Michigan". Sadly, this line was cut for space in editing, but I was obviously a seer, because later I heard that not only had Alix introduced the band personally when they played, donning a leather jacket for the occasion, but Ms. Dobkin had actually stage-dived during their set!! In vain have I searched for photos of this momentous event, but I like to imagine it. 

Alix gave them her blessing, I am given to understand, after doing some research on their feminist credentials, but also because she had first-hand experience of this younger generation of dyke. I arranged for her to meet with Jill Reiter, Selena Whang and Kathleen Hanna and they conducted a riotous, thoughtful and uproarious conversation over brunch at her apartment in NYC. I was not present but was sent the proceedings by cassette, along with a slightly out of focus Polaroid of the four of them, arms around each other, captured on the roof of the building. It remains a treasured possession, evidence of generations speaking together and learning from each other. The conversation appeared in edited form in Hot Wire in 1994. Rock on, Alix. 

Saying Something

Kudos to Dua Lipa for calling for frontline workers to get a pay rise. Even playing to the gallery at a Brits ceremony peopled by key workers it was still an excellent way of using her platform for a good cause.

I had heard of the singer for some year but never really listened to her music until last year when I was working out at a gym (pre-pandemic). Several of her tunes popped up on the sound system and in our ballet fit class the instructor had programmed a very catchy number for when we did sideways steps. I only realised later this was Dua Lipa's "Don't Start Now", and I can't hear the song without flashing back to those steps. Once I was in lockdown I listened to Future Nostalgia and decided it was a retro pop classic. Very deserving then of the Brits statuettes handed out this week for best album and female solo artist. Her medley was brilliantly realised. 

Dua Lipa turns up on Song Exploder, the series on Netflix going behind the scenes of notable recordings. The episode that features her centres on the writing and recording of "Love Again", which I found to be one of the less memorable songs on the album. In discussing the formation of the song Lipa gives nods to the co-writers, producers etc. and then someone she describes as her "vocal producer" who apparently told her to smile while singing certain lines. Vocal producer? Is this a thing? Somehow I can't imagine Aretha Franklin or Frank Sinatra having a vocal producer. But, if it works for Lipa, then good for her.