Tag: LGBT film

Mario

Posted on by Alasdair Bayman

Back in 2010, Germany striker Mario Gomez urged footballers who were homosexual to come out as they “would play as if they had been liberated.” Cut to 2018 and this call to arms from Gomez, who has since never stated if he is gay or not, the situation is as dire as ever. Being the only football player who has played in an array of Europe’s top five leagues to come out, former Aston Villa midfielder Thomas Hitzlsperger felt “he wanted to tell the world he was gay while he was still playing in Germany for Wolfsburg, but was advised against it” – according to an interview with German journalist Raphael Honigstein in 2014.

The overtly masculine and competitive nature of the sport means that any small piece of humanity or personality shown by a player results in ridicule by the press and opposing fans. Touching on Hitzlsperger’s experience of being a gay man in the blatantly heterosexual world of football – with its oppressions – Mario (Marcel Gisler, 2018) focuses acutely on the blossoming career of the titular Mario Lüthi (Max Hubacher). Whilst in the U21 squad of Swiss giants BSC Young Boys, he falls in love with their latest signing, Leon Saldo (Aaron Altaras). Complicating matters further, Mario and Leon both play in offensive positions and the pathway into the first team is only for a select few. Merging career ambition with a formative love relationship, this Swiss-Germanic production eventually conjures up some pathos after a slow start.

Shy and timid, Mario’s life is conjoined to the hip with football. In early pre-season where a professional focus is needed, the club transfer in Leon Saldo from Hannover 96’s U21 Academy. Strong, athletic and good-looking, Leon appears the perfect fit to be nurtured into the first team. Competing for the same spot, the two eventually form a prolific on-field relationship, leading the U21 squad towards league glory. Seeing the prospect held by both players, the Swiss club decide to room the two boys together, in an attempt to strengthen their on the field chemistry further. Consequentially, their off-field understanding grows into a shared love and understanding of one another. Seen by another team member kissing when away travelling to a game, the two must thus face the costs of sharing this twofold relationship.

Bringing a delicate edge to Mario, Max Hubacher, in moments, achieves a tenderness that feels fully realised. Contrasted against the confidence of Leon, the two work hold chemistry in periodic moments. Such instances occur after a long period of the film establishing its characters and mood. A juxtaposition of the dazzling heights of Goal! The Dream Begins (Danny Cannon, 2005), the world of a young upcoming footballer includes moments of loneliness, anxiety and resolve. Throughout its lengthy running time, the glamorous lives of Paul Pogba and Zlatan Ibrahimovic seem like galaxies away from the hard demands of continuous physical exercise and intense periods of nothingness. Talent is one thing, but the drive to succeed in a competitive environment is another aspect.

From the moment that rumours surrounding their relationship get out into the internal system at BSC Young Boys, Leon and Mario’s lives change forever. The clean almost corporate-like qualities possessed in the environments of the training ground work against the deeply personable relationships held between the two lovers. Accompanied by a shockingly suppressive meeting between the manager and club representative, Mario is informed that it would be best for him to be seen with a woman to suppress the rumours around him and Leon. This particular scene, alongside the final moments of the film, does unearth a sensitive soul to Mario. Regardless, the journey to these two specific moments lacks the eloquence apparent in other young LGBT tales as Maurice (James Ivory, 1987).

Addressing a key social and sporting subject that does not appear to be high on the agenda of Fifa or Uefa, Mario, through all this, is tragic in its few shining scenes. It is appropriate to suggest that the professionalism that radiates from its lead character impacts its stirring core. Credit where credit is due, however, I am sure solace and inspiration will be found from audience members and professional athletes who hold their sexuality as a closely guarded secret. Gisler and his team thankfully do not park the bus and come out against their subject matter in an assertive attacking manner. Still, it is void of the masterstroke that would be deployed by Pep Guardiola in footballing masterclass against Jose Mourinho.

Mario premiered at BFI Flare: LGBT Film Festival 2018 in March, when this piece was originally written. It’s out in cinemas on Friday, July 13th. It’s available on VoD and DVD from Friday, August 17th.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIGxpk9c-7U

Out of Iraq

Posted on by victorfraga

For most of us, coming out of the closet means facing social and family barriers, which most of us eventually succeed to overcome. Yet for most people in the Middle East, coming out of the closet almost inevitably translates as coming out of the country. Either that or being murdered, as homosexuality is mostly perceived as some sort of contagious disease for which the only solution in death.

This documentary follows the footsteps of Nayyef Hrebid and Btoo Allami from the days when they met in a US military camp in 2004 in Iraq (following the American and British led invasion of the country), through their struggle to stay together and to leave the country, all the way to their marriage in Seattle (in the US). Nayyef worked as a translator and had a university degree, which helped his entry to the US. On the other hand, Btoo was denied refugee status several times, and he fled to Lebanon, where he lived in a limbo for several years waiting for an application with UN Human Rights Commission to be approved. Nayyef and American human rights lawyer and activist Michael Failla supported him throughout his dangerous predicament. Btoo only left the Middle East when a gay Canadian vice-consul lent him a hand, and so he moved to Vancouver.

The resilience of the love between Nayyef and Btoo is remarkable. They never gave up hope, and they communicated daily and several times through Skype throughout the years they were apart. Nayeef had a giant wallpaper with a picture of Btoo right next to his bed. The two men remained an integral part of each other’s life during the ordeal, constantly emphasising that they have a physical, emotional and spiritual connection. Many gay westerners have become desentitised to love by the vast availability of channels for relationships (night clubs, phone apps, etc), and they may find it difficult to relate to such an epic and profound relationship. Out of Iraq is a refreshing reminder that such vigorous and long-lasting love does indeed exist.

Westerners viewers may also find the kitsch aesthetics of the film a little unusual. The images are often doused in plush colours, the two lovers sometimes appear with a shining pink aura supported by piano notes. At one point the face of Btoo appears in the sky. This is not a problem per se, as such devices are more acceptable in Middle Eastern cultures and it’s natural that the filmmakers vouch for authenticity, it may just cause a little alienation to viewers used to more sophisticated visuals.

OutOfIraq
The adorable lovebirds met in a very unlikely environment

You’d be forgiven for thinking that the military background of the two lovebirds constitutes an instrument of pinkwashing and a lame excuse for the invasion of Iraq. This is not entirely true. The movie reveals that US refugee policy is not a walk in the park, and that was long before Trump came along. Concerns that Btoo may have witnessed torture in Abu Ghraib (and therefore became a whistleblower) prevented his consecutive applications from succeeding, in a further testament that Americans weren’t so supportive at all.

Yet towards the end of the movie Nayyef does literally fly the American flag, oblivious to the fact that the US caused the war that destroyed his country. He does, however, recognise that gay men enjoyed far more freedom under Saddam Hussein (he studied Fine Arts, wore tight and sparkling clothes and had many gay relationships in university) than now. Ultimately Btoo and Nayyef embrace the American dream and settle in the much coveted land of the free. Their journey has many similarities to America, America (Elia Kazan, 1963), in which a Middle Eastern man dreams of reaching the US at any cost, and despite so many adversities.

Out of Iraq is showing as part of the BFI Flare London LGBT Film Festival. Very significantly, the film was introduced just a couple of hours after that the terrorist attack outside the British Parliament. Before the film, the event staff rightly noted that she not point fingers at each other and let such events divide us, and that we should instead promote love and diversity. Click here for more information about the Festival, and don’t forget to watch the film trailer below:

Jesús

Posted on by victorfraga

This is Jesus like you’ve never seen before: he’s in an amateur k-pop band, he’s arrogant, he’s insecure, he’s violent, he’s bisexual and he has a very stormy relationship with his father. And unlike the Christian Messiah, he does not save and redeem people. Quite the opposite: he murders instead. Our protagonist here is the antithesis of the citizen any society would cherish and value.

Jesús (Nicolás Durán) is an 18-year-old “lazy bone” (as described by his friends) who leads an empty and hedonistic existence in Santiago of Chile: he dances, he takes drugs, he watches trashy television and he has sex in public places. He lives with his father, with whom he barely communicates except when he chastises his son for his behaviour and lifestyle. One day Jésus and three friends (one of which happens to be his occasional sex partner) brutally torture and kill a young gay man called Gonzalo in a park, in a morbid display of homophobia and feigned masculinity. The four men take enormous pleasure in their misdeed; it’s as if they discharged their sexuality through violence.

In reality, Fernando Guzzoni intended his film to centre around the father and son relationship, as a metaphor of his country’s turbulent political landscape. While he was writing his film script in 2012, the homophobic murder of Daniel Zamudio by four males – including a bisexual man and a Michael Jackson impersonator – shook his country, and so he decided to incorporate a murder under very similar circumstances in his movie. He replaced Daniel with Gonzalo, and the Michael Jackson impersonator with a k-pop dancer. And he retained the fact that at least one of the perpetrators of the homophobic crime had homosexual tendencies.

One of the most memorable and symbolic moments of the film is when Jésus cuts his hand with a knife, then proceeds to clean it and bathe in a local creek. Is it just his hands that are dirty, or is his whole body muddied with self-hatred? Can he wash his crime away? Can he cleanse himself of his homosexual tendencies?

The director did stumble across one problem when changing his movie script to include the homophobic crime. The infamous murder diluted the father-son relationship, which was originally intended to be the main story. The metaphor with the political landscape is pretty much absent, and the film instead became a social statement. Perhaps this was intentional.

Jesús is not easy and light watching. The violence is graphic and prolonged, serving as a painful reminder that homophobia is, quite literally, alive and kicking. This is not the only Chilean film to deal with the sadistic murder of Daniel ZamudioÇ last year the rock star Álex Anwandter directed You’ll Never Be Alone – click here for our review of the film. It’s remarkable that Chile is using cinema in order to atone for its homophobic transgressions.

The recent transphobic murder of transsexual woman Dandara in Brazil (which was filmed and published online) has caused indignation both in the Latin American country and the world. Let’s hope that the largest country in Latin America reacts to this barbarous crime in the same way as Chile: using cincme as a tool to remember and to denounce such gratuitous violence and the lives cut short.

Jesus is showing right now at the BFI Flare London LGBT Film festival, when this piece was originally written.

Watch Jesus online now, with DMovies and Eyelet:

Body Electric (Corpo Elétrico)

Posted on by victorfraga

Brazilians are expressive, colourful and gregarious by nature. Homosexuals embracing Camp in this movie lend these characteristics an yet more vivacious and boisterous outlook. In other words, this is Brazil in a leopard print leotard. Body Electric takes an intimate look at a racially and sexually diverse LGBT group living in São Paulo, revealing their high spirits, joy and exuberant sexuality, and how they find comedy in every day ennui.

Elias (Kelner Macêdo) is a very good-looking 23-year-old working working as an assistant manager in small clothes factory. He’s very popular with other members of staff, and he often cross the work boundaries (something Brazilians are particularly good at!) to develop a more intimate relationship with some of his subordinates. He has recently broken up with the older and wealthier Arthur (Ronaldo Serruya), but the two still enjoy the occasional shag. Elias seem to incorporate the sexual liberation lifestyle, that many people in Britain associate with Brazil.

The movie is populated with Brazilian Camp, and this is extremely difficult to translate. Camp is performatic, theatrical, so it’s already a subversion of language per se. Adding another another layer of subversion (the translation into a foreign language) is complex and problematic – I’m a Brazilian gay man myself, so I have been faced with this problem for 20 years, since I moved to the UK. For example, gay men often speak about themselves and refer to each with feminine adjectives, and that doesn’t work in English. The highly nasalised tone is more universal, as are the wigs, the heels and the outfits. In other words, there are plenty of elements which will enable you to relate to the film.

The camerawork in the movie is mostly static and dark. In the sex sequences, it’s difficult to make out exactly what’s happening. It’s almost as if the first-time director Marcelo Caetano wanted to tone the Camp, and keep a distance, so it doesn’t come across as vulgar and tawdry. The result is a convincing, realistic portrayal of small group of young people of all genders (masculine, feminine plus everything in between) and origins (Elias is from impoverished state of Paraíba in the country’s Northeast, while a co-worker is a Black man from Guinea-Bissau, and so on).

The film narrative is mostly observational and flat, and there is no climax, which could come as a disappointment to those searching for a fast-paced, action-packed LGBT adventure.

The best moments of the movie are the picante sex conversations, which are far more creative and interesting than the sex sequences themselves. Elias describes how flirtatious and adventurous his life can be, and he goes into a lot of graphic detail, not too different from the historical sequence from Bergman’s Persona (1966) – often described as the most erotic sequence in the history of cinema (and one which translators also struggled with a lot!!!). Sex here is highly conversation, but never tedious, in talking heads style.

It’s crucial to remember, however, that this film represents a niche group, and Brazilians in general do not have such a libertarian attitude towards sex. Contrary to general belief and clichés, the average Brazilian is far more conservative and prudish.

Body Electric showed earlier this year the BFI Flare London LGBT Film Festival, when this review was originally written. It’s now available on BFI Player.

1:54

Posted on by victorfraga

A few seconds – even the fractions of seconds – can make all difference the world. This complex, jarring and thought-provoking LGBT bullying drama will exploit the pressures of time in very different situations: 8s to down a funnel full of beer, 1:54 to run 800m in a sports competition or 13s for… well, I can’t reveal the shocking twist at the end of this French Canadian movie.

Sixteen-year-old Tim (Antoine Olivier Pilon) is a shy and introspective teenager struggling with a gang of bullies headed by Jeff (Lou-Pascal Tremblay) in school. Tim and his nemesis are both vying for a slot in the national 800m competition, which makes their rivalry even more pronounced. Tim’s best friend Francis (Robert Naylor) is also a victim of bullying. The gang is adamant that the boys have an affair, and this will drive both students to very extreme and different measures in order to deal with the situation.

We eventually find out that Tim used to be a star runner, but he stopped a couple of years earlier when his mother passed away. Now he sees the opportunity to turn the tables and get even with the arrogant and manipulative Jeff, but an expected event suddenly gets on this way, posing a major dilemma. The narrative gradually evolves into what seems to be a race between homophobia and tolerance, then it suddenly veers into something far more sinister and harrowing.

With convincing acting and conventional photography, 1:54 delves into the horrific ramifications of bullying, thereby exposing the twisted and inconsequential sadism of human beings at a very young age. The Internet and smart phones play a central role in deconstructing personalities and and humiliating Tim and Francis. Every possibility of love and romance has been eclipsed by sheer barbarity, and both Tim and Francis have been robbed of their inherent right to love. The cruelty of the students will leave you jaw-dropped, but sadly the reality portrayed is not far-fetched. New technologies have provided young people with a very dangerous and potentially lethal weapon.

1:54 is showed as part of the BFI Flare London LGBT Film Festival in March 2017, when this piece was originally written. It is available for online viewing as part of the MyFrenchFilmFestival between January 19th and February 19th (2018)