BESTIES: confidence rocked

Photo caption: Lina Al Arabi and Esther Esther Bernet-Rollande in BESTIES. Courtesy of Frameline.

The absorbing coming of age drama Besties is set among Algerian teen girls in a hardscrabble immigrant urban French neighborhood. They’re growing up on the streets with minimal supervision by their hard-working single moms, and even their modest aspiration of a day trip to the beach seems beyond their grasp.

Yet, despite her downtrodden circumstances, the spirited Nedjima (Lina Al Arabi) is especially comfortable in her own skin. Supremely confident, she leads her girl squad, athletically matches up with the boys, and can talk trash like an NBA player.

Lina Al Arabi in BESTIES. Courtesy of Frameline.

Nedjima is fascinated by Zina (Esther Bernet-Rollande), a new girl in the hood, with relatives in a rival crew. Although Nedjima and Zina are on different sides (as in Sharks/Jets, Montagues/Capulets), there are attracted to each other and begin a secret romance.

Suddenly, Nedjima’s own identity is rocked – she never imagined that she could be a lesbian. This may be France, but even the kids in this insular immigrant community are homophobic. Suddenly she’s lost her community status and her support group. She reveals to Zina what teens often feel and never say, “I’m afraid of everything.” How is Nedjima going to recover her own agency and navigate being lesbian in her family and neighborhood?

Esther Bernet-Rollande (center) in BESTIES. Courtesy of Frameline.

Besties’ two leads, Al Arabi and Bernet-Rollande are very charismatic. Al Arabi’s performance could be star-making. Her Nedjima registers strength and vulnerability, wilfulness and confusion, and the audience is on her side all the way.

Besties is the first feature for writer-director Marion Desseigne-Ravel, and it’s an impressive debut. The milieu seems absolutely authentic. Besties is briskly paced, and Desseigne-Ravel tells her story economically and powerfully, without a single false moment. The final shot captures the briefest of glances, the perfect culmination of Nedjima’s story.

Besties is a showcase for Al Arabi’s magnetism and Desseigne-Ravel’s storytelling. Besties screens at Frameline on June 19.

THE SIXTH REEL: endearing farce

Photo caption: Charles Busch and Julie Halston in THE SIXTH REEL. Courtesy of Frameline.

The endearing madcap comedy The Sixth Reel is set in the insular world of classic movie geeks. I’m not talking about the average Turner Classic Movies devotees; these are folks who would sell their souls for the right lobby card and say things like, “William Powell is sexier with Kay Francis than he is with Myrna Loy.”

Jimmy (Charles Busch) is a down-on-his-luck collector and dealer of movie memorabilia. Jimmy has a history of becoming the companion of aging filmmakers and emerging with their memorabilia collections after their demise. Despite this unsavory business model, Jimmy is broke when stumbles upon a lead – the final reel of an iconic “lost film” is extant after all.

Jimmy and his peers, each shadier than the last, plunge ahead, competing with each other for their Holy Grail. Wackiness ensues.

Charles Busch and Julie Halston in THE SIXTH REEL. Courtesy of Frameline.

Busch co-wrote and co-directed The Sixth Reel with Carl Andress. This is my first Charles Busch film, but I understand that his movies, dappled with drag performances, constitute their own comedy sub-genre.

Busch’s committed performance is excellent. The rest of the cast, which includes Tim Daly and Margaret Cho, is fine, too, especially Julie Halston as an assertive widow and Patrick Page as an imperious mogul.

There should always be a place for well-crafted farce like this. The Sixth Reel screens at Frameline on June 25, and can be streamed from Frameline after June 24.

FANNY: THE RIGHT TO ROCK: triple-threat trailblazers

Photo caption: Fanny in FANNY: THE RIGHT TO ROCK. Courtesy of Film Movement.

Fanny: The Right to Rock documents the first all-female rock band to get signed by a major record label and churn out five albums. Fifty years ago, the band Fanny was breaking ground for women musicians – and for lesbians and Filipinas. Women rockers were a novelty in the early 1970; imagine layering on LGBTQ identity and Asian-American heritage.

Although you probably haven’t heard of them, this was no garage band. They had a major label record deal, European tours, and hung out with big name peers. Unlike many male bands of the period, Fanny didn’t crash and burn due to drug use or clashing egos. They just never caught on with record-buyers.

It’s pretty clear that music industry and media sexism, combined with maybe being a little ahead of their time to deny Fanny stardom. Too bad – I would have loved to listen to them in their heyday.

Their music fits right into the stuff I was listening to in the 1970s. I’m guessing that the reason why I hadn’t heard of them is that they didn’t get played on FM radio in the Bay Area.

Fanny in FANNY: THE RIGHT TO ROCK. Courtesy of Film Movement.

These women can still really rock in their 70s, and they’re a hoot.

Fanny: The Right to Rock is filled with colorful anecdotes from back in the day. Todd Rundgren, an important early associate of Fanny, and Bonnie Raitt appear as eyewitnesses. Cherie Curry of the Runaways, Cathy Valentine of the Go-Go’s and Kate Pierson of the B-52s testify to Fanny’s trailblazing status.

I screened Fanny: The Right to Rock last year at the Nashville Film Festival. It releases into theaters, albeit very hard to find, this weekend. I’ll let you know when it becomes available on streaming services.

DANCE OF THE 41: overreaching while gay

In the rapturously filmed period drama Dance of the 41, Mexican politician Ignacio de la Torre (Alfonso Herrera), a political Icarus if there ever were one, marries President Porfirio Diaz’s daughter Amada (Mabel Cadena). It’s the turn of the 20th Century, and de la Torre starts scheming with breathtaking recklessness.

The risk comes from the fact that de la Torre is in a secret club of gay aristocrats, closeted in plain sight in the most macho and homophobic mainstream culture. He has married Amada so she can be his beard, but his new bride, unaware of her new hubbie’s secret, was expecting her own sexual awakening. Instead, he spurns her for a torrid love affair with Evaristo (Emiliano Zurita).

De la Torre had married the boss’ daughter in a bid for advancement, expecting her to submit to being his pawn. But, hurt at not being desired, she calls on her dad’s capacity as an enforcer. It all culminates in a formal queer bacchanal that turns heartbreaking.

Dance of the 41 is a fictionalized (but very plausible) telling of a historical event, the salacious scandal called the “Dance of the Forty-One” or the “Ball of the Forty-One”.

I found the century-old story of Mexican LGBTQ history and the forbidden love between the men to be less interesting than the story between the husband and the young bride he had wildly underestimated. He is trapped because he’s gay and ambitious, but he is also a dick who is relying on male privilege to dismiss a young woman’s needs and aspirations and to cynically use her.

Director David Pablos and cinematographer Carolina Costa have created a visually extravagant film that makes use of its architecturally stunning locations. Much of Dance of the 41 takes place in gorgeously lit – candlelight.

I screened Dance of the 41 for the 2021 SFFILM. It is now streaming on Netflix.

SUMMERLAND: finally arrives at heartwarming

Gemma Arterton and Gugu Mbatha-Raw in SUMMERLAND

An agreeable star playing a disagreeable character, Gemma Arterton elevates the melodrama Summerland. Arterton plays a writer self-isolating in an English country village. Self-absorbed, crusty and even mean, she finds herself being assigned to care for a young boy evacuated from the London Blitz.

Why is she like this? We learn that she has been damaged, first by the childhood loss of her father, and then by the loss of her great love. It turns out that everyone in Summerland is damaged by loss – after all, there is a devastating war going on. And, the English are not disposed to letting out their feelings.

Summerland is about addressing the needs of one child. The war has made his parents unavailable, his guardian is reluctant and poorly-equipped, and the emotional capacity of his community is not apparent.

There are two surprises in the plot, and the biggest one is unpredictable; both are contrived – you can either suspend disbelief or not. I was watching with two women who couldn’t get past the unsympathetic behavior of the writer to embrace the story.

Once again, Gemma Arterton proves that she is versatile and can carry a movie on her own. Her work has ranged across genres to the Bond Girl in Quantum of Solace. In the light comedy Tamara Drewe, the main joke is that the main character suddenly transforms into someone who looks as stunning as, well, Gemma Arterton. In Gemma Bovery, Arteron and the French comic actor Fabrice Luchini deliver a smart, contemporary take on Madame Bovary.

The supporting cast is excellent: Gugu Mbatha-Raw (Belle and lots of TV), Penelope Wilton (Downton Abbey), Tom Courtenay (Oscar-nominated decades apart for The Dresser and Doctor Zhivago) and Sian Phillips (Livia in I, Claudius back in 1976).

This is the first feature for writer-director Jessica Swale, She did an excellent job directing the child actors – Lucas Bond and Dixie Egerickx (now starring in The Secret Garden) – to fine performances.

Summerland is essentially a melodrama that finally arrives at a heartwarming conclusion; as such, it’s moderately satisfying. Summerland is available from all the major streaming services

DISCLOSURE: giving voice to the trans perspective

Laverne Cox in DISCLOSURE. Courtesy of NETFLIX.

I very much admired Disclosure, the insightful – and even revelatory – documentary about the depiction of trans people in film and television and the impacts of that depiction.

The best thing about Disclosure is the unfiltered trans voice – near as I can tell, 100% of the subjects and talking heads are trans or non-binary people, and it’s an uncommonly articulate bunch. I found the most compelling to be Emmy-winning actress Laverne Cox (Orange Is the New Black), actress/writer Jen Richards (Tales of the City), producer Zackary Drucker (Transparent) and actress Candis Cayne (Dirty Sexy Money).

The first 25 minutes – tracing depiction of trans people in film since D.W. Griffin’s silents – is not riveting. But stay with it – Disclosure pays off big time with these moving personal stories. Near the end, Jen Richards comments on an accepting parent that she saw in another documentary – get out the Kleenex for this moment.

I had always thought of Jaye Davidson’s Oscar nomination for her performance as Dil in The Crying Game as a step forward for trans people. It’s complicated. I had always viewed Stephen Rea’s reaction in the Big Reveal scene from my straight male perspective (cis, if you insist); Disclosure made me consider the trans woman’s lens, too.

Disclosure is streaming on Netflix.

BREAKING FAST: just another gay Muslim romantic comedy

Haaz Sleiman and Michael Cassidy in BREAKING FAST. Photo courtesy of Cinequest.

In Breaking Fast, successful physician Dr. Mo (Haaz Sleiman) is a practicing Muslim who is out to his family, friends and work colleagues; although he lives in West Hollywood, he’s not part of the gay club scene. He has a longtime boyfriend Hassan (Patrick Sabongui), and Mo’s most flamboyant behavior is scoring the best desserts from the local Middle Eastern bakery for family gatherings.

Hassan’s family is not so tolerant, and Hassan – buried deep in the closet – believes that he must enter a sham heterosexual marriage, which Mo cannot stomach, and they split. Then, Mo meets meets Kal (Michael Cassidy), sparks fly, and the audience recognizes that Kal is perfect for Mo. But Kal is neither Arab nor Muslim, and Mo is still obsessed with losing Hassan. A romantic dramedy ensues.

The term “Gay-rab” pops up. And there is a stereotypical Gay Best Friend, Sam (Amin El Gamal), who is so gay that his party features a gospel choir singing Happy Birthday.

Sleiman is an adorable lead, and the flawless main characters must navigate a straightforward conflict.

This is a first feature by writer-director Mike Mosallam. He delivers solid entertainment here, elevated with insights into the quandaries faced by LGBTQ Muslim-Americans. Authentic-seeming cultural glimpses in the lives of Arab-Americans, Muslim-Americans and LGBTQ LA are a bonus.

There’s even an effective cameo by Veronica Cartwright. BTW it’s good to see these Arab-American actors getting chance to play something other than terrorists on episodic TV.

Although the most striking aspect of Breaking Fast is its breaking ground on the topic of LGBTQ Muslims, we should note that it’s a romantic comedy about someone on his forties, which isn’t all that that common, either.

So, this is just another gay Muslim romantic comedy…I predict that Breaking Fast will become the Feel Good hit of the 2020 Cinequest. And I wouldn’t bet against Breaking Fast getting a shot at theatrical distribution. Cinequest hosts the world premiere of Breaking Fast.

Stream of the Week: MAKING MONTGOMERY CLIFT – exploding the myths

MAKING MONTGOMERY CLIFT, directed by Robert Anderson Clift and Hilary Demmon

The best documentary in this year’s Frameline festival was Making Montgomery Clift, from directors Robert Anderson Clift and Hilary Demmon. It’s an unexpectedly insightful and nuanced probe into the life of Clift’s uncle, the movie star Montgomery Clift. And it explodes some of the lore that has shaped popular understanding of Montogomery Clift.

Clift is the son of Brooks Clift, Montgomery Clift’s brother and archivist. The younger Clift never met his uncle Monty, but had access to his father’s vast collection of Monty memorabilia and to the memories of family, friends and previous biographers.

Many of us think we know the arc of Montgomery Clift’s life: success as a 1950s movie heartthrob is torpedoed by the inner torment of his closeted homosexuality; then alcoholic self-medication and disfigurement from an auto accident propel him into drunken despair and an early death. It turns out to be a much, much more nuanced story.

It turns out that some in the Clift family indulged in secret audio taping to a jaw-dropping degree. Directors Clift and Demmon take full advantage of the actual conversations of Monty and others. Their gift is to drop in the most startling revelations without lingering or even emphasizing them. To watch Making Montgomery Clift is a constant exercise in “wait…WHAT?” Demmon’s brisk editing helps, too.

How tormented was Monty by his sexuality (which we learn was a robust bisexuality)? Witnesses – who would know – let us know that Monty was comfortable in his own skin and fairly open – for the times – about his sexuality. This wasn’t Rock Hudson or Tab Hunter.

We learn that Montgomery Clift’s refusal to sign a studio contract was to preserve BOTH his artistic independence and his sexual independence (avoiding being forced into faux marriage and the like).

Making Montgomery Clift also discredits the view that Monty sank into depression after the accident changed his looks. His personally most satisfying performances came AFTER the accident.

The insights into Monty’s artistic process are unique and significant. We hear the actual conversation between Montgomery Clift and director Stanley Kramer about Clift’s riveting cameo in Judgment at Nuremberg. Monty’s intentionality in shaping the scene dispels the myth that, instead of giving a performance, he had an actual breakdown before the camera. Yes, he was acting it, and it was spectacular.

There has been a handful of recent showbiz biodocs made by younger relatives of the famous artists. Usually, these films add some personal family anecdotes, but are so fond of their subjects that they’re not especially insightful. Making Montgomery Clift is not that – it ascends above the pack – and should change how all of us understand Monty Clift.

Making Montgomery Clift is available to stream on Amazon.

MAKING MONTGOMERY CLIFT: exploding the myths

MAKING MONTGOMERY CLIFT

The best documentary in this year’s Frameline festival may be Making Montgomery Clift, from directors Robert Anderson Clift and Hilary Demmon. It’s an unexpectedly insightful and nuanced probe into the life of Clift’s uncle, the movie star Montgomery Clift. And it explodes some of the lore that has shaped popular understanding of Montogomery Clift.

Clift is the son of Brooks Clift, Montogmery Clift’s brother and archivist. The younger Clift never met his uncle Monty, but had access to his father’s vast collection of Monty memorabilia and to the memories of family, friends and previous biographers.

Many of us think we know the arc of Montgomery Clift’s life: success as a 1950s movie heartthrob is torpedoed by the inner torment of his closeted homosexuality; then alcoholic self-medication and disfigurement from an auto accident propel him into drunken despair and an early death. It turns out to be a much, much more nuanced story.

It turns out that some in the Clift family indulged in secret audio taping to a jaw-dropping degree. Directors Clift and Demmon take full advantage of the actual conversations of Monty and others. Their gift is to drop in the most startling revelations without lingering or even emphasizing them. To watch Making Montgomery Clift is a constant exercise in “wait…WHAT?” Demmon’s brisk editing helps, too.

How tormented was Monty by his sexuality (which we learn was a robust bisexuality)? Witnesses – who would know – let us know that Monty was comfortable in his own skin and fairly open – for the times – about his sexuality. This wasn’t Rock Hudson or Tab Hunter.

We learn that Montgomery Clift’s refusal to sign a studio contract was to preserve BOTH his artistic independence and his sexual independence (avoiding being forced into faux marriage and the like).

Making Montgomery Clift also discredits the view that Monty sank into depression after the accident changed his looks. His personally most satisfying performances came AFTER the accident.

The insights into Monty’s artistic process are unique and significant. We hear the actual conversation between Montgomery Clift and director Stanley Kramer about Clift’s riveting cameo in Judgment at Nuremberg. Monty’s intentionality in shaping the scene dispels the myth that, instead of giving a performance, he had an actual breakdown before the camera. Yes, he was acting it, and it was spectacular.

There has been a handful of recent showbiz biodocs made by younger relatives of the famous artists. Usually, these films add some personal family anecdotes, but are so fond of their subjects that they’re not especially insightful. Making Montgomery Clift is not that – it ascends above the pack – and should change how all of us understand Monty Clift.

CARMEN Y LOLA: sexual awakening and a glimpse into the urban Romani

CARMEN Y LOLA

Carmen y Lola is a sexual coming of age story set among urban Romani people in contemporary Spain. 16-year-old Lola (Zaira Romero) is a smart, talented and feisty kid; she knows that she likes girls and wants a career; how she can do either within her traditional Romani culture is a dilemma. Buoyant 17-year-old Carmen (Rosy Rodriguez) embraces her future – being married off to a handsome young Roma man – but meeting Lola awakens her to other choices – and to her own sexual preference.

I’ve seen movies about the Romani people (widely known as Gypsies) before – usually historical period pieces and always with itinerant Romani. There are no wagons or RVs in Carmen y Lola; these characters live in the hardscrabble suburbs of Madrid. (Almost 2% of Spain’s population is Romani.)

We also get to see the ugly face of anti-Romani prejudice (which I’ve just learned is called antiziganism). Carmen y Lola is unsparing in its point of view that the Romani are held down by both external racism and some of their own patriarchal and anti-education Roma traditions.

There’s also a welcome element of cultural tourism here. We get to watch a Romani betrothal ritual, a Romani evangelical church service and an all-female flamenco party.

Carmen y Lola is the directorial debut of Arantxa Echevarria. It’s one of the successful first features showcased in this year’s Frameline film festival.