The British-Spanish co-production I Love My Mum is about to premiere at the 38th Cambridge Film Festival, which starts this Thursday. The film narrates the story of a bickering British mother and son accidentally shipped off to Morocco on a ship container and having to find their way back home past Spaiin and France. Our reviewer Redmond Bacon described the film as “a picturesque comedy that doubles up as a grand tour of Western Europe”. Click here for our review of the film.
We took the opportunity to talk to the 57-year-old director from Barcelona, who is now on his sixth feature film, with a career spanning more than two decades. So we asked him about political undertones, nationalism, how it feels to be “from the outside” in Europe, and much more! All the images on this article are from the behind-the-scenes of I Love My Mum.
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Redmond Bacon – What was the core inspiration behind the film?
Alberto Sciamma – My own experience, I guess. I always feel like a fish out of water wherever I am. I have always been considered ‘from the outside’ both in Spain, where I was born, and in the UK, where I have lived for many years. That sense of being lost and trying to find a way back ‘home’ wherever that is… I guess that’s me.
RB – Olga and Ron’s journey is similar to that a refugee might take to the UK. Did you want to make any political comment here?
AS – I didn’t want to make a political comment, rather a social one. It’s always there as a background to Ron and Olga, but I wanted them to be blind to it, just as we tend to be. It’s there, we recognise it in occasions, and then go have breakfast…
I wanted to comment on the general attitude. Take the immigrant boat scene for example, in which Ron and Olga want to help rowing. They create chaos by trying to help. They are chucked out of the boat while screaming “sorry, sorry!’. For me, that sums up it all up.
RB – Is it correct to say that the film is also about Brits struggling to communicate in Europe?
AS – Instead of communicating, Ron and Olga just tend to ignore everything. Until a number of accidents moves them forth. They act instinctively, never questioning the world around them. But they never ever act out of badness, they don’t purposely ignore the world, they are just who they are, so there is no judgment.
I see Ron and Olga and both heroic and utterly flawed. Just like everyone else. Well, or at least me. They happen to be British, but they could as well be Spanish just like me…
RB – As the release date is the day after Brexit officially starts, is there another political message here too?
AS – The release date has not been fixed. But of course the discourse about Brexit underlines many situations in the film. The core of that discourse is not exclusive to Brexit, I believe that what is happening in Italy, Catalonia, France etc is at its roots the same bollocks; it’s a nationalist and populist discourse.
The movie looks at that from above and uses it in an absurd and occasionally surreal way, as a comedic pizza base.
RB – Did you look at any other road movies for inspiration?
AS – I’ve always loved Plane, Trains and Automobiles (John Hughes, 1987). But the inspiration wasn’t any other movie in particular, rather all the movies and experiences I’ve had: the good and the bad.
RB – The film has Fish Tank (Andrea Arnold, 2009) actress Kierston Wareing. Did you pick Wareing due to her performance in that film?
AS – Kierston is a force of nature, a fantastic instinctive actress. I loved her in It’s a Free World (Ken Loach, 2007). Seeing that movie nailed it for me.
RB – The acting is very naturalistic here, really allowing Wareing and Tom French to shine. How much improvisation did you allow?
AS – They got into their character very deeply, so that made working with them very easy. Tommy French is a natural, very talented and fast learner. He gets it. They were able to shape the script with the improvised style I was after.
The script was followed, and it was shaped by them.
Shooting the movie was nuts, in many occasions we were all improvising and adapting to the locations and never-ending changing situations we encountered. Morocco was particularly nuts, so the actors were responding to the craziness around them, Same with me Paolucci (our DOP) and the rest of the crew.
RB – You have mostly done horror and thrillers before. Why the change to comedy?
AS – I guess all my movies, specially the first one The Killer Tongue (1996) were or had comedy elements, or at least rather absurd stuff. I feel comfortable with comedy. I had previously written a few comedies, and I was desperate to direct one of them. I Love My Mum is that movie. My next movie is also a comedy and also a heist movie, entitled Five Idiots.
In fact, Ron and Olga were born as characters in the script of Five Idiots. I enjoyed so much writing them that I extracted them from that script and dropped them into a blank page… then started writing I Love My Mum. At the start of writing I only knew one thing about their story; they were gonna have an utterly stupid discussion that would put them in a rocket and send them to the moon. After that, the script grew its own body.
So London Film Festival closes out its 62nd edition tonight, having boasted a thrilling programme of festival favourites from the year alongside tiny films begging for eyeballs and distribution. Queues snake around Leicester Square for a preview of new films by Steve McQueen, The Coen Brothers, and Yorgos Lanthimos, while evening screenings attract huge crowds fighting for a glimpse of Timothee Chalamet in his latest Willy Wonka outfit. But yet again there is a sour note to proceedings, as the BFI’s relationship with Cineworld, and particularly its Picturehouse chain, grows ever tighter.
I’m sure you know Picturehouse is having an ongoing dispute with its workers over union recognition, the London living wage, ansod maternity, paternity, and sickness pay, all essential for staff on zero-hour contracts. Even a campaign has been launched. With other cinemas like Curzon and ICA both paying the living wage, it’s clearly manageable for Cineworld to do the same, since they have posted increasing profits year-on-year. There is no big strike this year, certainly nothing on the scale of last year’s Three Billboards inspired stunt. This article explains how difficult the law makes it for strikes to go ahead, and the legal threats that organisers have received over last year’s demonstrations. This may explain why there is so little visible action this year. Instead, workers have actively discouraged people from seeing films at Picturehouse, which is difficult when that’s knocking seven screens out of your schedule. But as your ticket is scanned and admission is granted into the Picturehouse walls, the painful undercurrent of exploitation can be felt.
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The shoemaker’s wife is always worst clad
Sorry To Bother You (Boots Riley, 2018; pictured just above) played a couple of times during the BFI London Film Festival Festival at Picturehouse, which might give you pause. You see, Boots Riley’s debut feature is a satire about unionisation. In it, LaKeith Stanfield plays Cash, a telemarketer who uses his ‘white voice’ (literally David Cross) to climb the corporate ladder, and while his stock rises, his low-level colleagues strike for better pay, with increasingly violent results. The film details individualist corruption, one that underwhelms in the final act in favour of a rousing fight against the system; more Mike Judge than Putney Swope. In satisfying its audience though, Sorry to Bother You ends up like an unfinished essay, perhaps because it would require more than 90 minutes for a fully coherent deconstruction of modern corporate capitalism.
But watching it at Picturehouse felt bogus. This is a film about individual vs collective responsibility, about sacrificing your own inflation in favour of making things slightly better for your community. And that part rang truest to the situation at BFI London Film Festival. I went, desperate to see one of the year’s most talked of movies. But it felt hollow. And I’m far from the only person who noticed this. Almost everyone is aware of the dispute, and yet, we are all happy to continue to support an establishment that hates its own workers. What’s interesting is that after last year nothing has changed. Because most people I speak to talk like they care and want to make a stand, but its apparent futility has caused the inverse effect: I gotta see these films, so why not just use the Picturehouse? And if you need a coffee while you’re in here, then why not?
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The heart of the capital
Desperate not to spend any money inside, but in need of caffeine, I found myself stalking Shaftesbury Avenue for somewhere that wouldn’t feel exploitative. McDons… be still my liberal heart. Starbucks… forget about it. But there’s a queue growing for the next movie, so God damn it, I’ll go without, I thought, before going to sit in the gigantic screen 1, and think about how everyone in here is a scab! But I at least, am aware of my hypocrisy, so I can enjoy Sorry To Bother You without self-immolation. Wrong.
Thing is, it’s easy for me to sit here and spill words about the situation, as many have done, but I’m still using the Picturehouse’s snap up chairs, willingly complicit in the entire system. You can understand my bind. This is my first LFF as an accredited press member (for which I had to pay £45, another pressure on the freelance journalist economy!) so it’s in my best professional interests to see as much and meet as many people as possible. Filmmaker receptions take place in Picturehouse, so guess where you need to go if you want to schmooze with the industry. Once you’ve decided to go to the Picturehouse, you’re locked in. You might as well be like Cash, selling slaves over the phone.
This might seem like fatuous complaining about The Way of Things. We like to think of film festivals as a Utopic escape from commercial interests, where ideas can be shared freely and the art is king. And of course this isn’t really the case, they’re all just one big conference/networking event where corporations can showcase the next year’s worth of product. But that product is usually overwhelming enough to make us forget (ignore?) the negative sides of it. But when it’s put so close to us, it’s hard to continue the fantasy. It’s like the Tessa Thompson character, Detroit, from Sorry to Bother You: a radical afro-futurist artist who chides Cash for giving in to the system. But when she wants to sell her work, she is revealed to also use a white voice. She both plays the game, and manages to seem outside of it.
It’s hard to make taking a stand matter, because there are 100 adept Twitter users waiting to swoop in and earn their accreditation by doing the PR work for the festival. The queues around the block must do half the work for Picturehouse, they’ve never seemed so alive (pictured above)! That’s the real economy here. A swathe of cultural capital: to have seen the big film before your non-film friends, or even better, to skip the big movie for a masterpiece first feature. But the films are so good. The swooning, muscular direction of Roma (Alfonso Cuaron, 2018), the romantic gazes of If Beale Street Could Talk‘ (Barry Jenkins, 2108; second picture above), the incredible, art-historical provocations of Make me Up (Rachel Mclean, 2018)… The quality of the films on show are the romantic notion that stops us from taking action. Is a rare chance to see Roma on the big screen before it disappears into the Netflix void as much of a defiant act as it feels, if the circumstances that enable that opportunity deprive others of obtaining economic agency?
Again and again, Cash is reminded to ‘STTS: stick to the script!’ That’s what the nebulous, Festival bubble wants us to do too. They want us to see Roma (pictured below) and If Beale Street Could Talk, films that already have a life outside of the festival. Like so many people I spoke to, you go in thinking you’re going to reject the Oscar fare, in favour of panning for the gold in the margins, but the buzz swallows you up and before you know it you’re sat down for The Sisters Brothers (Jacques Audiard, 2018) Complain all I want but my presence, and especially my acquiescence to this system speaks volumes.
Our individual’s guilt means nothing in the face of the festival’s BFI’s culpability by continuing to use Picturehouse as a key location. While the Leicester Square Odeon undergoes reconstruction, the red carpet premieres are all taking place at Empire (also owned by Cineworld) this year. So it’s clear that BFI doesn’t see it as their responsibility. And the fact that they pay the living wage themselves would appear to acquit them. This week, the BFI also announced ‘measuring class and socio-economic background in their funding and staffing’. Coinciding with their Working Class Heroes season, this is a great step forward, and the BFI should be praised for this commitment. But in the midst of this conversation, one worries that this shifts the focus away from Picturehouse.
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Who’s gonna say it out loud?
At the start of the festival, Charlie Lyne posted a great thread about boycotting the Picturehouse, and even pulled his own film from screening there. But he is in a certain position of influence as a popular young filmmaker/critic. He is one of the only filmmakers to have made such a stand. I couldn’t get Boots Riley or anyone from his team to comment on the situation, which is funny for such a vocal director, and a film of such radical ideology.
The Picturehouse can change their position, but it may take a stronger act of solidarity to do so. These films nourish us. But, if they don’t change us, then what does that nourishment mean? What exactly, does it feed? And if that means skipping a movie like Sorry to Bother You, and all the clout that comes with being a part of that conversation as it happens, then perhaps that is a price that is worth it for a cinema culture that’s worth keeping.
Among other things, A Star Is Born (Bradley Cooper, 2018) is about a shifting musical landscape, starting with Jackson Maine (played by the director himself) playing sold-out rock concerts and ending with his protege Ally (Lady Gaga) singing pop songs about jeans on Saturday Night Live. In fact, the enduring myth of A Star is Born is the fact that the show-business is always changing, and stars – in whatever form they may come will always be born. This is the third remake of the movie.
Overlooked in debates concerning A Star Is Born’s classic rock versus pop dynamic is how the movie actually frames this debate in a much larger historical context. This is we have Sam Elliott playing Maine’s much older brother, a failed singer himself that Maine looked up to and eventually superseded. And this is why on Ally’s side, and perhaps more crucial to the entire construction of the film, we have Lorenzo (Andrew Dice Clay), her father, a man who, in his own words, could’ve been as big as Frank Sinatra himself.
The word that has been bandied around a lot when it comes to this fourth version (of the classic American tale is “authenticity”. Nowhere is this more apparent than in Lady Gaga’s astonishing performance, which looks beyond the artifice of ‘Lady Gaga’ to the woman, Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta, underneath. As a result, the casting of fellow Italian-American Andrew Dice Clay was a masterstroke. He was even chosen over world-class actors such as Robert De Niro, John Travolta and John Turturro. While not as accomplished an actor, his less over-bearing presence allows him to really inhabit the role of her father, giving the film an uncommon depth for contemporary Hollywood drama.
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There’s Somethingabou Ally
When Ally first returns home after her first wild night out with Jackson, her father is in the living room with his friends betting on horse races in Japan. Whether or not he is using traditional casino sites to play blackjack or simply gambling among friends, one gets the sense that this has become a regular routine. (If you fancy being like Lorenzo and playing blackjack and other casino games while in the queue to buy A Star Is Born tickets, check out this list of the best casino sites online now.) The room is full of cigarette smoke and there is plenty of alcohol to go around.
This is how Ally can tell immediately that Jackson is an alcoholic, and perhaps normalises his toxic behaviour from the start. Like nearly everything in the screenplay, characters continuously echo each other: not only has Jackson succeeded where her father didn’t, he is eventually the more destructive alcoholic. Through these brief shouting matches with Lorenzo, Ally’s relationship to men and to stardom is cleverly established, setting up a conflict that will only really be resolved in the movie’s final scenes.
Despite all of Lorenzo’s flaws, he loves his daughter dearly and wants her to have the success he never had. With a thick New York accent and seemingly only hanging out with other New Yorkers, despite living in LA, there is a hidden subtext that Lorenzo himself moved to LA in order to be a star. As a result, he imbues the film with a sense of wonderment; at what we mean by success and what we mean by genuine stardom. He creates the myth, repeatedly telling Ally that he heard many better singers back in the day than Frank Sinatra, but when Old Blue Eyes stepped on the stage, he had that ineffable thing that everybody else wanted. Stardom is something that you can’t pin down, you just have to see it for yourself. And this is your opportunity to see it!
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Listen to the sound of a star
Even Ally’s musical choices continue this idea of classic songsters. It is no surprise that when Maine first lays eyes on Ally she is singing a rendition of La Vie En Rose, a song first recorded by Édith Piaf in 1947 and has been tacked by everyone from Tony Martin and Bing Crosby to Grace Jones and Donna Summer. First a classic show-tune, then a disco classic; in essence, the perfect song to play in a drag bar. It’s probably even a song that Lorenzo has performed, although probably in a quite different manner.
Then by the end of the film she pulls out all the stops to sing the original ballad “I’ll Never Love Again” – evoking shades of Whitney Houston in her barnstorming performance. In this moment, playing in a concert hall and decked out like a traditional crooner, she has truly become her father’s daughter. While rock and pop are definitely important, essential parts of the movie’s musical construction, this idea of timeless stars – whether its Frank Sinatra, Whitney Houston or Lady Gaga herself – ensures that that 2018’s A Star Is Born won’t date any time quickly.
Bradley Cooper isn’t aiming for any specific comment on the current moment here, instead creating a timeless vibe that feels like it could’ve been set any time in the past fifteen years. Lorenzo is crucial to this timeliness. Although at first appearing like comic relief, he is the movie’s beating heart, a link between the past and the present that shows that while musical genres are constantly shifting, the essential nature of stars remains the same.
Tom Tykwer’s Run Lola Run was one of the standout films from the 1990s, and the cult classic has lived long in the memory of film aficionados who love original and unique cinematic techniques. Even the trailer was one of a kind. The lightning-paced German thriller is one of the most successful foreign language films of all times, and has been highly influential since its release in 1998. Here we examine what made it so successful, take a look back at some of the most iconic scenes, and discuss what the film from Prokino Filmverleih went on to inspire.
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Mainstream success in English-speaking markets
Run Lola Run is still one of the most successful foreign films of all time in English-speaking markets. From a production budget of only $1.7 million, it made $22 million worldwide. Over $15 million of that total came from the international box office, which is highly impressive for a small, independently produced picture. While these figures can’t really compare to major blockbusters, the film went on to achieve cult status thanks to its exceptionally strong critical response.
The German movue has a score of 93 percent on Rotten Tomatoes, and received excellent reviews from esteemed film critics. Chris Gore of Film Threat said it was “one of the best foreign films, heck, one of the best films I have ever seen.” It earned a number of accolades as well. In addition to being nominated for countless awards, Run Lola Run won the Grand Prix of the Belgian Syndicate of Cinema Critics. It also won Best Film at the Seattle International Film Festival, and picked up seven separate awards at the German Film Awards. The thriller which starred Franka Potente as the athletic heroine has stood the test of time, and is still a much-used piece of discussion for movie buffs and film students to this day.
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Most memorable scenes
Run Lola Run was a fast-paced film which crammed three different scenarios into its short 80 minute running time. The late Roger Ebert described it as “not a second too short” – high praise from one of cinema’s best respected critics. Most famously, the film had a strong focus on the butterfly effect (a theory about small causes that have large effects). When Lola had interactions with other characters on her journey, time would flash forward and the film would show what happened to that person after the encounter. In each storyline, the outcome was different, showing how the smallest change can have a dramatic impact later on down the line.
There were also some hugely memorable scenes throughout the movie. For instance, nobody can forget the moment when Lola enters the casino and starts betting on roulette. With a highly interesting technique that would probably get her thrown out of most casinos, she manages to bet on the correct number twice in a row. According to Betway Casino, casinos have been ever-present in films and popular culture over the years. In movies like Ocean’s Eleven (Steven Soderbergh, 2001) and The Hangover (Todd Phillips, 2009), the gambling houses are portrayed as dazzling and crazy places. In Run Lola Run, the protagonist enters a fairly low key casino. However, this does fit with the raw feeling of the 1998 film and German culture.
Another great moment was in Lola’s second run when she decided to rob her father’s bank. She does it by stealing a security guard’s gun and taking her father hostage. As the place is surrounded by armed police, the heroine manages to slip out on the pretence that she is an innocent bystander fleeing the scene. Bank robberies are another common theme in films, and have been used to great effect on numerous occasions over the years. In fact, the heist movie is a genre of its own, and there have been some classics over the years. For instance, Michael Mann’s 1995 epic Heat, which still holds an 8.2 rating on IMDB, had some of the best bank robberies ever shown on screen. Other iconic movies like Reservoir Dogs (Quentin Tarantino, 1992) and Bottle Rocket (Wes Anderson, 1996) show elaborate thefts which provide audiences with non-stop entertainment. It’s a tried and tested theme, and the fact that Run Lola Run included a bank job boosted its appeal.
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What else has Run Lola Run influenced?
Run Lola Run had a major effect on mainstream culture and influenced a number of other films and television shows. At the time of release, even The Simpsons did a parody of the picture, showing how the independent film had reached mass audiences in the United States. Shaun of the Dead’s (2004) director, Edgar Wright, said that watching Run Lola Run made him want to direct another film more than ever, and also said that he wished he had been the mastermind behind the picture. Some notable films to have taken themes and inspiration from Tykwer’s film include the Bourne Identity (pictured above) in 2002 and Go in 1999, both directed by Doug Liman.
Tykwer went on to get involved with television and most recently has collaborated with the Wachowskis on the Netflix science fiction series Sense 8. The Run Lola Run man directed a number of episodes of the popular show and brought some of his unique ideas to its production. The director will likely be sought out by other production companies in the future.
The 1990s was a great period for experimental directors trying out new techniques, and Run Lola Run was perhaps one of the finest examples of originality from the period. The film is likely to live long in the memory of movie buffs and directors for many years to come.
Director John Dahl’s 1998 exploration of the private, underground clubs dedicated to high-stakes poker in New York City captured the imagination of poker fans around the world. Many of today’s professional poker stars cited Rounders as one of the main reasons they got into the game, with Dahl’s depiction of the age-old card game proving a cult hit, scooping almost $23 million at the box office. A “rounder” is someone that ventures from city to city in search of high-stakes poker games, and this perfectly describes the film’s two central characters, Mike McDermott (Matt Damon, pictured below) and Lester “Worm” Murphy (Edward Norton).
In my humble opinion, Rounders is a film that’s up there with some of the dirtiest films in recent memory. It excites and makes you empathise with Mike McDermott in equal measure. It contains moments of high drama, due mostly to the sterling acting from John Malkovich, who plays Russian mobster Teddy “KGB.” It also contains moments of hilarity that are up there with some of the funniest themed scenes in film. However, if you delve even deeper, you can get a sense of several common themes that run through the heart of this gritty movie.
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You have to play the hand you’re dealt (in life and on the table)
It’s one of the most popular taglines from Rounders, and it is somewhat apt considering Mike is left having to clean up Worm’s mess created by burying his head in the sand regarding his debts to Teddy “KGB.” Mike is proactive in trying to clear Worm’s debt by setting up a host of home games around New York City to try and help him win back some money to pay off the debts built up prior to Worm’s time in jail. Mike’s stance is admirable, as he puts everything on the line — his law degree and his relationship with girlfriend Jo (Gretchen Mol) — to resolve his old friend’s financial situation.
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The importance of doing what makes you happy
Of course, it helped Worm’s cause that Mike enjoyed the buzz of playing poker more than anything else in life. Mike had always dreamed of having a bankroll that he could take to Las Vegas to live and play professionally and win the World Series of Poker Main Event. Despite harboring those aspirations, Mike signed up to law school and attempted to lead a normal life by studying and holding down a steady relationship, but there was still a void in Mike’s life that needed filling. In helping out Worm in his hour of need, Mike also helped himself to feel alive again and to realize the importance of doing what makes him happy — taking his “three stacks of high society” to Las Vegas and quitting law school.
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On the flip side: the fragility of relationships
Mike’s relationships in the film are quite fragile and volatile, both with his male and female friends. His friendship with also Worm is turbulent, particularly when he finds out Worm has been playing poker on Mike’s credit behind his back. It makes him question the legitimacy of their friendship, but the pair’s shared thirst for thrills at the poker table is what keeps their relationship together by a thread. Mike’s love interest, Jo, had been a calming influence on Mike since packing up poker and focusing on his law degree. However, by not doing what made him happy, Mike quickly began to resent Jo and his law pursuits, resulting in his decision to break Jo’s heart and leave New York for Sin City.
The symbolism of the latest World Cup win couldn’t be clearer. Nineteen out of 23 players of the French football team are either immigrants or children of immigrants. The majority of those are of Black heritage, either from Africa and the Caribbean. Steve Mandanda, Alphonse Areola, Presnel Kimpembe, Rafael Xavier Varane, Samuel Umitite, Djibril Sidibe, Benjamin Mendy, Paul Pogba, Corentin Tolisso, N’Golo Kante, Blaise Matuidi, Steven Nzonzi, Thomas Lemar, Ousmane Dembele are amongst those. And the big revelation of the world Kylian Mbappe is entirely of African descent. Mbappe became so successful and synonymous with his home nation that the French newspapers twisted the French national motto to include the 19-year-old player “Liberté, Egalité, Mbappé”.
This is wonderful news. Even the most ardent bigots and xenophobes had to recognise and to face a multicultural and diverse Europe. But is the same phenomenon reflected in cinema? Unfortunately the answer is a resounding NO. Black Europeans are yet to leave their mark on European cinema. The number of Black European filmmakers remains extremely low, and the names are scarce, particularly outside Britain. This is in contrast to the US, where established Black filmmakers of both sexes have been challenged the racial orthodoxy of the film industry for quite some time, including extremely dirty names such as Spike Lee, Denzel Washington, Dee Rees and Gina Prince-bythewoods, to name just a few.
Well, it’s about time that the UK embraces the Windrush generation (pictured above) and Black Brits more wholeheartedly in the film industry. Likewise for the rest of Europe. We need more “Afropean” helmers, who can show us Europe from a Black perspective. We’ve had enough whitewashing in the film industry.
Below is a list with some of the most promising black talent behind the camera in Europe. We hope that these talented artists will continue to flourish with many more films to come, and also that the list will grow massively in the years to come. Alongside “Liberté, Egalité, Mbappé”, let’s also sing “God Save our glorious (Steve) McQueen” in the very near future. We want Black Europeans to shine on the football field, behind the film lenses and everywhere else.
You might also want to check out the Women of the Lens for Black female talent in film in the UK and beyond. Also, don’t forget to click on the film titles below in order to accede to our exclusive dirty review (where available).
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1. Steve McQueen (United Kingdom, pictured below):
McQueen is the most successful black European filmmaker at present. The London-born and Amsterdam-based helmer has directed the critically acclaimed Hunger (2008), Shame (2011) and the multiple Academy Award winner 12 Years a Slave (2013).
2. Damani Baker (United Kingdom):
This British cinematographer and filmmaker is best known for his feature The House of Coco Road (2017), a tribute to Caribbean women in the UK (more specifically, the director’s mother.
3. Amma Asante (United Kingdom):
Amma Asante is also British, and she is a screenwriter, a film director and also a former actress. Her filmography includes Belle (2013) and A United Kingdom (2016).
4. Isabelle Boni-Claverie (Switzerland/France):
Originally born in the Ivory Coast, this author, screenwriter and film director moved to Switzerland when was just a few months ago, and she now lives in France. She directs mostly documentaries, and her best known title is Too Black To Be French? (2015).
5. Amandine Gay (France, pictured below):
This French feminist, filmmaker and actress is just 33 years old. Her documentary Ouvrir la Voix (2015) was made by the means of crowdfunding, and includes interviews with 24 Black women in France.
6 – Mo Asumang (Germany):
This 54-year-old filmmaker was born in the former German capital, Bonn. He has already directed seven featurettes on various topics including race and veganism.
7 – Oliver Hardt (Germany):
This filmmaker is based in Frankfurt am Main. His portfolio consists of award-winning documentaries and high-profile corporate films for firms and institutions such as Mercedes Benz, Lufthansa, the German Design Council and the Art Institute of Chicago.
8 – Sally Fenaux Barleycorn (Spain):
Sally is based in Barcelona. Her first fiction short film Skinhearts, premiered in Amsterdam in 2015. She has now directed her first two adult films with XConfessions as a Guest director, Touch Crimes (2016) and Tinder Taxi (2017).
It’s beginning to feel that StarWars has become its own cinematic universe, rather than just a franchise. With the release of Solo: A StarWars Story (pictured above), we’ve now seen the second of many proposed spin-offs, in addition to what will soon be nine core films. And while there are now countless rankings littered around the internet of which of these films are best or most enjoyable, we don’t talk as often about which ones gives us the most to think about. So that’s what we’ll focus on here.
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1. Solo: A StarWars Story (Ron Howard, 2018):
The public is still digesting this newest StarWars film, but it seems that with specific regard to the franchise it will ultimately be among the most thought-provoking. That’s because this is the film, more than any other before it, that forces us to confront the somewhat sudden reality noted above: that StarWars is now its own cinematic universe. One of the more interesting responses to Solo’s release came from The Ringer’s Sean Fennessey, and posed the question of what happens when a StarWars story isn’t special or when, as the story also mentioned, such a story lacks a “wow factor.” The point here is not that Solo is a bad film, but that it feels more ordinary or run-of-the-mill in the context of a world in which we suddenly get a new StarWars movie every year.
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2. Star Wars: The Last Jedi (Rian Johnson, 2017):
The Last Jedi was polarizing, and by this writer’s estimation, disappointing. However, it was also particularly intriguing simply by way of introducing more new things to the universe than any other entry since The Phantom Menace (George Lucas, 1999). We saw a Jedi stronghold/training island for the first time, for instance, in something of a loose homage to Luke and Yoda’s time together in The Empire Strikes Back (Irvin Kershner, 1980). We saw a space casino, in a possible throwback to the iconic cantina scene that also felt vaguely like pandering to young audiences. A wealth of one-of-a-kind games has rapidly grown the online casino gaming business, to the point that more young people are familiar with these types of games, and might have related to the playfulness of a space casino. We saw new creatures, new types of Imperial Walkers, a new Sith lair, Imperial Guards that actually did something, etc. Basically, in everything from setting to characters, The Last Jedi just established a new look.
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3. Rogue One: A StarWars Story (Gareth Edwards, 2016):
Not to harp too much on the newest of the StarWars films, but there’s an argument to be made that Rogue One is actually the biggest outlier of them all, in terms of feeling like a one-off project. While not without flaws, it earned sweeping critical praise essentially for being a terrific war movie, with more than a few reviews comparing it to Saving Private Ryan (Steven Spielberg, 1998). That might be a little bit of a stretch, but it does speak to the idea that Rogue One, more than any other film in this rapidly expanding franchise, taught us to question what a StarWars film could be. It was the first such film made without a Skywalker, and while it directly concerned the events of A New Hope (George Lucas, 1997), it felt very much like a successful telling of a tale that simply happened to exist in the same universe. It opened the door for potentially limitless types of films for the franchise to explore.
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2. Star Wars: Revenge Of The Sith (George Lucas, 2005):
Revenge Of The Sith might be the most thought-provoking film of them all strictly from a character standpoint. Say what you might about the prequel trilogy, but despite insistent reliance on silly creatures, cheesy visuals, and questionable acting performances, this trilogy accomplished its core goal: to depict the rise and fall of Anakin Skywalker. Most who care about or even study the StarWars saga agree that Anakin is in fact its core character, and Revenge Of The Sith is the film that really shows how he transitioned from promising Jedi to devastating Sith apprentice. It’s a film with some interesting messages about loyalty and influence somewhat cloaked in over-the-top (and actually fairly spectacular) action sequences.
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5. Star Wars: A New Hope (George Lucas, 1977):
If Revenge Of The Sith had the most going for it from a character perspective, A New Hope was probably the most significant in terms of pure filmmaking. Naturally it’s the film that started this whole, improbable ride, and it changed cinematic science fiction for all of time. As one ranking of the films put it, A New Hope showcased an exhilarating mix of old movie tropes and newfangled technology. It also combined an almost Old West style of drama and action with the unusual, unique zen of the Force. It was simply an original effort, and one that we can still look back on and be fascinated by when we think of how it set the tone for so much that was to come.
I have waited for many films to arrive, but there’s only one that I’ve anticipated for 16 years: Terry Gilliam’s long-awaited The Man Who Killed Don Quixote. Over the years it has even invaded my own dreams, quite fitting for a film made by a dreamer about a dreamer. I’ve followed its numerous iterations, from the initial hope that Johnny Depp would still star (following the success of those pirate films, he ruled himself out in 2009), to the Robert Duvall/Ewan McGregor two-header, and on to perhaps the most heartbreaking and tantalising version with John Hurt as the Man of La Mancha. At one point Gerard Depardieu (with Depp as Toby) was in the frame, then even Al Pacino was considered. Others have come and gone. In fact, the project goes way back, to a more literal concept with Sean Connery and Danny DeVito that Gilliam floated in the early 1990s.
Obviously, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote was always set to play at Cannes. It was going to be independently funded with European money, and that’s where the festival directors and distributors gather. However, when former producer Paulo Branco attempted to sabotage it after leaving the project in what looked like a blatant attempt at extortion, everything was up in the air until the last minute. Without Branco’s machinations, the film would probably have played in competition – but in the end, Gilliam’s premiere bagged the final slot, showing the closing ceremony and… out of competition! It also garnered a 20-minute standing ovation despite festival fatigue, one of the longest ever.
With uncertainty still raging days before Cannes, I chose to trek to Paris instead, where screenings had been scheduled and looked likely to go through. With no UK distributor lined up, I wasn’t taking any chances on missing something I’d waited 16 years for, and so grabbed for the earliest screening I could.
How much of that Cannes ovation was for the film and how much for Gilliam’s perseverance is open to question, but in my opinion it’s probably his best work since Brazil (1985),and so richly deserved. Of course, Cannes reactions are not necessarily the best indicator of how well a film will perform with critics or audiences. No one was sure what to expect – from around 1989, when Gilliam was still a hot property in Hollywood, to now, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote transformed from a more faithful retelling of Cervantes’ lengthy and perhaps ultimately unfilmable novel to a meta-version that incorporated elements of Mark Twain’s novel A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Courtto a deeply personal contemporary version without the time travel angle once considered. The documentary Lost In La Mancha (Keith Fulton, Louis Pepe, 2002) showed something very different than the final film.
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As personal as it gets
At some point in the noughties, co-writer Tony Grisoni suggested that lead character Toby should be a movie director rather than an advertising executive. And so Toby (Adam Driver) emerged as a youngish filmmaker who made a student movie called The Man Who Killed Don Quixote for his thesis. Now back in Spain to make a Quixote-inspired advert, he finds out that the town he shot as a student is close by. He visits to find some inspiration, and learns that his film had a profound, and not necessary positive, impact. That’s especially so for the village shoemaker, who played the role of Quixote (Jonathan Pryce) and now seems to believe he really is Cervantes’ knight.
Obviously, the film owes a massive debt to Fellini’s 8 ½ (1963), which had a major impact on Gilliam (Brazil‘s original title was 1984 ½): a key scene for him was when Marcello Mastronianni dances around the film producers who are coming at him from all directions, a visual that portrayed what would be necessary to work successfully in the movies years to Gilliam before he made a film. Like all of Gilliam’s films, despite being grand, it’s intensely personal. Toby and Quixote portray the director’s two sides: Toby personifies the deeply frustrated would-be artist whose passion and determination have been channelled into commerce, while Quixote is the dreamer whose life was enriched and yet damaged by the story.
The film business is full of damaged people whose lives are lived episodically through the films they make. And when a film crew comes to town, it affects the place socially and even environmentally—living out your dreams carries untold risks. Indeed, there were accusations that the filmmakers damaged a world heritage site in Portugal while this one was made. The thin line between madness and dreams is always the main theme in Gilliam’s work, and there are certainly echoes of The Fisher King (1991; one of his few fully contemporary films), The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus (2009) and The Adventures of Baron Munchausen (1988) here. Gilliam has joked over the years that his wife, Maggie Weston, says he just makes the same film over and over. Of course, most true artists have certain themes that permeate their work and they constantly re-evaluate those questions because they are close to their heart.
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A star-studded cast
The casting is exemplary. Adam Driver came to fame as the only reason to watch Lena Dunham’s TV series Girls, but in the last few years he has been able to pick off the directors he wanted to work with, from Noah Baumbach to Jim Jarmusch to Spike Lee. His Star Wars: The Last Jedi (Rian Johnson, 2017) role brought stardom, and attaching him to the project helped Gilliam sell the film overseas. Driver isn’t a stereotypical handsome leading man—he has an interesting face but isn’t a pretty boy, and here he perfectly captures Toby’s humour and arrogance. His comedic timing is coupled with enough depth to bring you along on his journey.
Jonathan Pryce has a long history with Gilliam—his breakthrough role was the lead of Sam Lowry in Brazil, and although he had been pegged for a different role in 2001, in 2018 he reached the age where he can pull off the role of Quixote but still has box-office power. He stepped into the role of after Gilliam’s old Python buddy Michael Palin was touted for the role and there was even a mock-up poster made for that version for Cannes.
Stellen Skarsgård is great as an absolutely horrid producer (perhaps there’s a bit of Branco in there) and Rossy de Palma also shines in a supporting role. Jason Watkins plays Toby’s assistant and perfectly captures a particular campy, upper-middle-class film agent type. The cast is filled out with Spanish and British actors who have perfect faces for a Gilliam production and Joana Ribeiro as Angelica is destined for stardom.
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The eye of the Man of La Mancha
The film was shot by Gilliam’s own Sancho Panza, Nicola Pecorini, who’s a genius cinematographer but rarely gets works. Pecorini has worked with Gilliam ever since Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998), despite a blip during Brothers Grimm (2005). Blind in one eye, he always comes up with interesting shots. Unlike a lot of Gilliam’s movies, there’s a lot of fish-eye lens work along with the trademark wide lens shots. Of course, the landscapes they found in Spain and Portugal do half the work. There are a couple of jump cuts that don’t work for me, but that’s a minor criticism. There is little CGI, which I think is a good thing and there is even a line about Toby preferring handmade effects than CGI. It’s difficult to get the budget for high-quality CGI, and the handmade quality fits the kind of film that Gilliam wanted to make.
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A long cinematic journey
In other words, it was worth sleeping on the overnight bus from Leeds to Paris just to see The Man Who Killed Don Quixote, not once but twice: first at the UGC Cine Cite Halles multiplex, then at the MK2 Beaubourg, where the audience was smaller but far more enthusiastic. There were a couple of walkouts at both screenings, but in my experience that’s usually a good sign – the director has provoked a strong reaction (although at the MK2 it looked more like a ‘wrong date movie’ situation.) My attempt to blag a poster were, sadly, unsuccessful.
He’s a director who always struggles with length, and it’s Gilliam’s longest film since The Fisher King in a world where independent films are supposed to be 100 minutes max, it’s great that he was able to grab the time it needed—despite some minor pacing issues in the middle, it’s a story that needs time to unfold. If this is Gilliam’s last film (which I hope it isn’t), it’s a good one to go out on. At a time of so many mundane independent films and action/superhero films, the fact that Gilliam can still make a film every few years gives me hope for cinema, because that means it’s still possible to put his dreams and nightmares on the big screen.
The 71st annual Cannes International Film Festival starts on May 8th for 12 days, and the programme has already been announced. The event continues as auteur-driven, internationalist, prestigious, innovative and, of course, anti-Netflix as ever. The Festival demands that all films in the programme get a theatrical distribution in French cinemas, which caused the streaming giant to pull out last minute, just before the programme was announced.
The list is teeming with big director names from all parts of the planet, and the Competition alone includes eight newcomers, from a total of 21 films selected. A jury under the presidency of Cate Blanchett will announce the winner. A grand total of 1,906 feature films were viewed by the various selection committees. At least 100 movies have been announced for the various sections of the Festival so far: Un Certain Regard, Director’s Fortnight, Critic’s Week, Classics, Special Screenings, etc. Iranian director Asghar Farhadi’s psychological thriller Everybody Knows will open the Festival. The Official festival poster (pictured above) features Jean-Paul Belmondo and Anna Karina from Jean-Luc Godard’s 1965 film Pierrot le Fou. It is the second time festival poster was inspired by Godard’s film after his 1963 film Contempt just two years ago.
Below is just the the tip of the iceberg. Our very dirty picks, films that we think you should be looking out for. Don’t forget to follow us for live updates at the event, as we watch the films below and reveal they were worth the wait.
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1. Climax (Gaspar Noe):
The Argentinean provocateur, who has worked most of his life in France, returns three years after the 3D explicit sex romance Love. which saw an actor ejaculate on the audience and the camera assume the penis perspective as it enters a vagina. Everyone is curious what antics the enfant terrible has under his sleeve the time, and whether audiences will leave the cinema feeling orgasmic. The movie is in the Director’s Fortnight section,
2. The Man Who Killed Don Quixote (Terry Gilliam):
Terry Gilliam’s long-delayed feature will be the Festival’s closing film. Production began exactly 20 years ago (!!!). And yet the film encountered new problems, and a legal challenge almost prevented it from being shown this year. The movie is a blend of fantasy, adventure and comedy loosely based on the Spanish super-novel Don Quixote, by Miguel de Cervantes. The film, which is pictured below is in the Competition.
3. Pope Francis: A Man of His Word (Wim Wenders):
The 72-year-old German filmmaker has largely focused on producing and directing documentaries in the past couple of decades, including the iconic Buena Vista Social Club (1996) and Our Last Tango (2017, directed by German Kral). This time he has created what looks like a romantic portrait of the current Pope, in which he speaks directly to the people. The film is also in the Competition. Let’s just be grateful he didn’t do a film about his countrysake and previous pope, aka God’s Rottweiler. Meanwhile, Wenders has a feature film coming out in cinemas later this year.
4. Donbass (Sergei Loznitza):
The Ukrainian director’s previous film, a creepy tribute portrayal of Russia, A Gentle Creatureis showing in cinemas across the UK right, and one of the dirtiest films you could catch right now. The film was in the Festival’s Competition last year. This year, the director returns with a film named after the region of the Ukraine that Russia recently attempted to annex (although Putin will dispute this). We would hazard a guess that the new film, which is in the Un Certain Regard section, will be no more sympathetic of the largest country in the world.
5. Three faces (Jafar Panahi):
The Iranian director of The Mirror (1997), Offside (2006) and Taxi Tehran (2015) started his career in the 1990s as the assistant director of the late Abbas Kiarostami. His films often dealt with controversial and fiery topics (such as women attending football matches in Offside), and the director himself was arrested in 2010. Three Faces is described as a “mountain travel” film, and it’s in the Festival’s Competition
6. Shoplifters (Hirokazu Koreeda):
Firmly established as one of the most prolific and creative voices of Japanese cinema, the director of the dirty gems After The Storm and The Third Murder(both released last year) returns with Shoplifters (pictured below). The film, similarly to After The Storm, focuses on a dysfunctional “family”, as a group of petty criminals and crooks take in a child from the street.
7. At War (Stephane Brize):
Perrin industries decide to shut down a factory and fire 1,100 employees, despite record profits and huge financial sacrifices on the part of the lower employees. The 52-year-old French helmer once again exposes the ugly face of capitalism, corporate values and labour rights in Europe, after dealing with the subject two years ago in The Measure of a Man. Also in the Competition.
8. Everybody Knows (Asghar Fahradi):
This psychological thriller will open the 2018 Festival, and it features Spanish actors Javier Bardem, Penélope Cruz and Argentinian Ricardo Darín. The double-Oscar winner refused to travel to the US last year in order to collect his statuette for The Salesman, in retaliation to Trump’s racist and Islamophobic government. The new drama Everybody Knows, which we expected to be as profound and multi-threaded as his previous films, the first time the director works in Spanish language, and it’s also only the second time a Spanish language movie opens the Festival.
9. BlacKkKlansman (Spike Lee):
Spike Lee is back, and he’s ready to set fire to his increasingly racist and reactionary homeland. The film follows the first African-American police officer to infiltrate the KKK, back in 1979. The urgency of the movie cannot be overstated. Hopefully Lee will not slip into platitudes and sexist cliches, unlike two years ago with Chi-Raq. In the Competition.
10. The House that Jack Built(Lars von Trier):
The staunch persona-non-grata has now made piece with the Festival, after being banned “for life” in 2011 following some controversial remarks about Hitler’s good qualities. His new film, which is named after an English nursery rhyme, stars Matt Dillon and follows with a highly intelligent serial killer. Von Trier described the film as celebrating “the idea that life is evil and soulless”. The film is running our of the Competition.
One of the greatest joys you can experience as a cinemagoer is settling into your seat at the local theatre to watch a film you’ve been looking forward to for weeks and weeks, only to realise 10 minutes in that what you’re watching is an hilarious, side-splitting farce of a film. A recent addition to the “unintentionally funny” category includes Tomas Alfredson’s shambolic The Snowman(2017), a film that audiences were excited to see considering its effective trailer and the talent involved in the production – as it turns out, it’s a laugh-out-loud pile of garbage. An “unintentionally funny movie” isn’t just a turkey or a cult film. It’s far worse than that. It’s so bad it’s good!
One of my own favourite cinema-going experiences was back in 2008, when a group of friends and I went to see M. Night Shyamalan’s The Happening (pictured below, in the iconic scene in which Mark Wahlberg talks to a plastic plant). The trailer had freaked us out, Shyamalan’s The Sixth Sense (1999) had frightened us and blown our minds in equal measure (we were 15, give us a break!!!), and even the opening credits were suitably creepy. We thought we were in for something that would really scare us. Ten minutes later we were wiping away the tears rolling down our cheeks, howling with laughter at the way an old lady smashes through a windowpane with her face and a driverless lawn mower runs over a man’s head. The experience was one of utter joy.
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Reading against the text
The hilarity, though, was borne out of the fact that we thought we were going to see something that would terrify us but instead made us laugh. Had we known The Happening was going to be so bad, the experience would not have been the same. We would probably have laughed still, sure, but the ‘shock factor’ – that golden moment of realisation – would have been lost.
Many reviewers, however, particularly those on YouTube, recommend going to see unintentionally funny films by telling their audience to ‘watch it as a comedy.’ This, unfortunately, eliminates any potential golden moment of realisation. We shouldn’t tell people to view an “unintentionally funny film” as a comedy because the humour lies in that we think it’s actually going to be a scary, thrilling, or dramatic film, and then being let down. Big time. If we know it’s going to be funny-bad, we might laugh, but not nearly as hard, or as surprised, or most importantly as genuine as we might have done had we been blissfully unaware of the goldmine of hilarity we were about to stumble upon.
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Shhh, don’t tell anyone!!!
In a way, us fans of “unintentionally funny films” have an obligation not to ruin the surprise element of a film’s disastrous nature by saying, ‘it’s really bad, but watch it as a comedy and you’ll enjoy it.’ If we have to recommend a film, just to get a fellow film-lover to see something so bad they really shouldn’t miss it, tell them it’s really enjoyable (which isn’t a lie!), nudge them in the direction of the movie without giving the hysterical surprise away.
This is, admittedly, harder to do for classics of the genre like The Room (Tommy Wiseau, 2009; pictured above) or Samurai Cop (Amir Shervan, 1991; pictured at the top of this article), which are less known outside bad-film aficionado circles, but for new releases, those wonderful pieces of drivel inadvertently vying to join the ranks of Battlefield Earth (Roger Christian, 2000; pictured below), the Star Wars prequels, and most things starring Nicholas Cage, we can keep from ruining the surprise. Let people discover the unintentional comedy for themselves – that’s where the magic is.
Just a few years back, finding a film dealing with the subjects of transsexuality and transgenderness was equivalent to finding a needle on a haystack. And the few and far between often used cis actors (in a practice described as transface), such as Eddie Redmayne as Lili Elbe in Tom Hooper The Danish Girl (2015). There were also lyrical and artistic portraits of trans people, such as Tilda Swinton is Sally Popper’s Orlando (1992). Realistic representations of trans people using trans people, on the other hand, were almost non-existent.
Times have changed quickly. Just last week, the Best Foreign Language Picture Academy Award went to Sebastián Lelio’s A Fantastic Woman. This superb Chilean drama tells the story of a transsexual woman called Marina Vidal (played by trans actor Daniela Vega) dealing with the unexpected bereavement of her lover and the undesirable encounter with his children and former wife, and the moment all the ugly transphobia gets out of the cage. This is a major achievement for transsexual people, but of course a swallow doesn’t make a summer.
So we decided to compile a list of 10 films dealing with transsexual and/or transgender characters from the past two years that everyone should see. They come literally all corners of the world, from Latin America to India, from Uganda to Albania! Click on the film title in order to accede to our exclusive dirty review!
Homosexuality is a taboo in Uganda, to say the least. The country actively and consistently persecutes LGBTI people. In countries there is often tacit acceptance and complicity as long as the homosexual marries a partner of the opposite sex and lives a dual life. Such possibility does not seem to exist in Uganda, where the mere suspicion of homosexuality or any sort of deviant sexuality is often a trigger for social convulsion.
This doc portrays the life of 28-year-old transgender Ugandan Cleopatra Kambugu. She was biologically born a man, but already in her early years begins wearing female clothes and identifying as a woman. She found the support of her lifelong partner and mother and, against all odds, lived a relatively hassle free life in her home country. Until the local tabloid Red Pepper decide to “denounce” and “gay-shame” her, forcing Cleopatra into hiding.
Hana (Alba Rohrwacher) lives with her sister Lila (Flonja Kodheli) and their parents in the remote mountains of Albania. Lila then escapes to the West in the hope of a better life, leaving Hana to care for her parents. Hana then decides to become Mark so that she can perform the family duties that only a man is allowed to carry out (such as handling a shotgun and hunting), according to strict social rules. She undergoes a conversion ritual, cuts her hair and begins to wear male clothes, all with the full consent and support of her parents as well as the rest of the community.
Sworn Virgin tells two stories in parallel: of Hana becoming Mark in rural Albania, and of Mark becoming Hana once again in Italy. After the death of his parents, Mark moves to Italy in order to live with his sister Lila, now married and with a child. He slowly settles in the new environment, and begins to shed the male clothes and identity, which she has carried for so long.
Cuba is a country of stark social and political conflicts and paradoxes, and perhaps no one epitomises those contraditions better than the few transsexuals living in the country’s capital. Despite major advances and the staunch support of Mariela Castro Espín (Raúl Castro daughter), Odette, Juani and Malú they still face religious intolerance, discrimination, sexism, poverty and sometimes a life in prostitution. Meanwhile, they wait for surgeons from Belgium and the Netherlands to perform a much-coveted sex change surgery on them.
These transsexuals have to reconcile a number of forces in their lives: Catholic faith, the army, a dictatorship and prejudice. While washing the dishes, Odette explains that she is the most experienced tank operator in the nation. She is not referring to a domestic appliance; she operates war tanks instead. She also has to battle her family who are reluctant to accept her choices. They strongly discourage her from engaging in the irreversible and life-changing operation.
It’s not easy being a woman in India, let alone a transsexual one. The male-to-female transgender community has existed in the country for centuries, and their members are commonly described Hijras. Unfortunately, they are still outcasts even today. It is virtually impossible for them to find a job, and they almost inevitably have to resort to either begging on prostitution on the streets of a large city.
Inspired by a real story, Madesha (Sanchari Vijay) is an educated and effeminate boy from rural Karnataka – they speak the Kannada language, little known to Europeans. From a very young age, he cherishes his female persona and gorgeous saris and bindis. His sister enjoys his natural flair and joy. After completing his studies, he moves to Bangalore in search of acceptance and a castration surgery known as Nirvana. He is undaunted, despite knowing that the options for transsexuals are very limited.
This one is the only film on our list which is from more than two years ago (just about). It deserves to be on the list because it’s revolutionary in terms of format (made on iPhone) and content. It’s a genuine masterpiece, plus a Christmas classic!
Entirely set on Christmas Eve, this micro-budget movie sounds like the antipode of the snowy, Christian and holy holiday. It is set in the sunny and tawny-hued streets of Los Angeles, its protagonists are transgender sex workers and there is ardent commotion throughout most of the movie. Yet this is one of the most poignant Christmas movies that you will see in your life, urgent in its candour and integrity. This is sobering holiday entertainment, as it rescues humanity from the most unlikely places and situations: a lonely performance in an empty club, a blow-job in a car wash, a transphobic attack, a wig soaked with urine.
André Techiné, possibly the most influential living LGBT filmmaker, celebrated 50 years of filmmaking last year in Cannes with a five-star and five-splat film, impeccable in style and profoundly subversive in its subject. The film tells the real story of the French WW1 deserter Paul Grappe (Pierre Deladonchamps) and his wife Louise (Céline Sallette). In order to avoid being caught and forced into military service, Paul disguises himself as Suzanne. He quickly and enthusiastically embraces his new identity and turns to prostitution in order to make ends meet and cater for his wife.
Paul/Suzanne seems to be fully bisexual, enjoying orgies and all sorts of sexual experiments with people of both genders, while still in love with his wife. She remains devoted to her husband despite his sexuality, which was extremely unorthodox for the times. At first, she seems entirely indifferent to his job and “perversions”. Eventually Paul/Suzanne becomes a cabaret act, but then the split identity begins to haunt and to suffocate him. Suzanne wishes to take over.
Marina Vidal (Daniela Vega) is simply a woman. And she happens to be transsexual. The only way she ascertains her gender is by living her life like any other woman would: she works in a restaurant, she has a partner and she also has a hobby: she sings (extremely well). There’s nothing unusual about her lifestyle. The fact that her gender identity is not aligned with her biological sex neither defines nor limits her life. There is no gender “dysphoria”, as the medical establishment puts it. Marina is just another human being living in Santiago, the capital of Chile.
Marina is often laconic and stoic. Her piercing gaze says far more than the frugal amount of words coming out of her mouth. Her unapologetic and determined attitude is sometimes mistaken for deceit, but Marina is as integral and honest as one can be. Yet Orlando’s family and the establishment try to humiliate, to disarm and literally to disrobe Marina. They address her with an inconvenient “he” and even with her birth name “Daniel”, they make ugly faces of disapproval, they taunt her. Sonia dubs her “a chimera”, a fire-breathing female monstrosity from Greek mythology (with a lion’s head, a goat’s body and a serpent’s tail).
This British movie follows the dynamics of a family as their youngest teen Charlie (Harry Gilby) comes out as male-to-female transgender. Charlie has always been a football prodigy. Strangely, he lashes out in anger once offered an once-in a-lifetime opportunity that could take him closer to the Premier League. His father’s expectations grow, and so Charlie gets increasingly stressed. There are a few clues early on that this isn’t just a surge of hormones in a teenager’s body: the character’s growing alienation and battle with gender dysphoria are clearly documented in several scenes, and the boy soon starts transitioning to her authentic self.
The incredibly humane portrayal of the parents – a preoccupied and yet supportive mother (Elinor Machen-Fortune), and a hesitant and absent-minded father (Scot Williams) – is perfectly aligned with the main character’s inner conflict. Between doctor visits, replacing her old clothes and having to face the world outside. the film does a very good job at balancing Charlie’s personal trauma with the feeling of loss that her parents experience.
inn da Quebrada (“Broken Linn da) is neither a woman nor a man. She’s not your conventional transsexual, either. She’s something between all of these identities. She’s a tranny fag, a term she coined herself. Linn da doesn’t conform to labels and pre-established orthodoxies. She’s deliciously subversive. She’s a beautiful aberration. She’s unabashedly confrontational, yet she’s tender and affectionate.
This doc follows the footsteps of the 27-year-old Brazilian singer, who only recently rose to fame. You will watch her stage performances and read her deeply transgressive lyrics, translated into English in the subtitles. The highly intelligent and eloquent artist composes songs dealing with gender fluidity, and describes her own body as a political instrument. She’s an outspoken advocate for sexual minorities, and Magnus Hirschfeld would undoubtedly be proud of her.
The picture at the top of this article was taken from Tranny Fag.
The winner of the 2018 Golden Bear isn’t a film solely about transsexual people, but it deals with various bodies and approaches to sexuality, and it’s refreshingly sobering in its candidness. Romanian director Adina Pintilie establishes a dialogue with several real-life characters, in what can be described as a documentary with flavours of fiction, in a roughly congruent arc. Laura, Tómas, Christian and Hanna and Hanna have a very different relation to their sexuality and bodies, and they are all working together in order to overcome their fears and and claim control of their lives.
Hanna, a 50-something-year-old transsexual extremely confident of her sexuality and her body, despite knowing she doesn’t fit beauty standards. Laura wants to learn how to be as relaxed and liberated. Hanna and Christian are the two least normative individuals. Yet they are the ones who are most satisfied with their bodies and sexuality. They are perfectly happy to get naked and to carry out new sexual experiments. They are both regulars in a BDSM club, where punters perform their sexual fantasies in front of each other.
