Yeah, I've lost count of how many days I was there. 13, according to the calendar.
Movies:
"Children of Srikandi" - a bold experimental documentary about queer women (lesbian, bisexual, transgender, etc.) in Indonesia. An interesting concept, but poorly executed. Eight different women told eight different stories eight different ways without any sort of explanation of what was going on. It was also scripted. A good documentary, but no "Kuchu."
"Unforgiveable" - a French movie set in Venice about some very tangled relationships between an older man, his younger wife, her ex-girlfriend, and the ex-girlfriend's teenage son. Quirky and fun until the dog gets killed.
"Transgender Tuesdays" - an amateur but well-made documentary about the first public clinic to offer health care and hormones for transgender people. The most enthusiastic audience ever. I think most of them had some connection to the clinic, as it was/is in San Francisco. Lots of good historical background on the trans community as well.
"Wordly Women" - a shorts program featuring lesbian films from all over the world. They were all about sex, or were weird. Or both. I did not feel represented.
"Let My People Go!" - Jewish comedy + French comedy + gay comedy + dysfunctional family comedy = the funniest movie I have ever seen.
"Cloudburst" - an elderly lesbian couple breaks out of a nursing home, aiming for the Canadian border so they can finally get married. A hysterical romp with a bittersweet ending. See, everyone loves crazy old ladies; these ones just happen to be a couple.
Best moment:
I really really wanted a Frameline t-shirt, partly for the memories and partly because the slogan was "Find your story," and I thought that was really appropriate. By the time I actually got around to buying one, though, they were out of smalls and mediums. "Are you a filmmaker?" the woman selling them asked me. I looked down at my camera bag, which I carried with me everywhere.
"Kind of," I answered. "I'm from the University of Wisconsin - Eau Claire..."
The woman thrust a Large t-shirt at me. "Take it," she said. "Don't pay for it. We love you guys, and we really appreciate you coming all the way out here."
So what could I do but take the shirt and thank her as many times as I could?
Pride:
Because this is still a class, our professors told us to think about the concept of power while we were at Pride. I didn't actually make it to the PrideFest, but I was in the Trans March and the Dyke March, and saw the Pride Parade.
The Trans March:
I was shocked at how many people were there. I mean, I care about transpeople, but I didn't realize that so many other people did. And then when the march started, I was completely overwhelmed by the sense of solidarity and activism and pride. It was glorious, even if I did get overstimulated from the crowd.
The Dyke March:
If the Trans March was so wonderful, then the Dyke March should be even better, because these are actually my people, right? No. That was the biggest disappointment the trip. See, I love my gay male friends, and I love my pansexual female friends, but sometimes I feel like I'm the only lesbian in the world. And then when I do encounter lesbians, in books or film or at the Dyke March, I feel no connection. Am I still a lesbian if I don't go to bars and pick up chicks for one-night stands and dance in the street without a shirt? I have not found a single lesbian image that I can connect with, which might be why I sometimes act bisexual; because even though that's not what I identify as, it's who I identify with. Maybe I'm bisexual-sexual.
This is all very confusing.
The Pride March:
In addition to Pride, there is also a group called Gay Shame, and I'm starting to agree with their stance even if I think they really need a new name. OccuPride is another similar group that seems to be doing better, though. Both these groups are against the corporatization of Pride.
Pride disgusts me a little. It's just a big gay block party. And yes, it's great that we can celebrate out identity, and sexuality is inherently sexual, but...let's think about power for a minute. Why do so many corporations have floats in the parade? It's because even though we are a minority and a marginalized population, we have power. Not only buying power ourselves, but we have enough allies that it is for the most part no longer socially acceptable to be a homophobe. It's no coincidence Obama voices support for gay marriage just before election season. He said he supported it the first time he got elected; is he really giving us more than empty words, and are we content to accept them because he says them in his beautiful black Morgan Freeman voice? (I have a joke theory that Morgan Freeman was a catalyst for Obama being elected, because he taught our generation love the sound of a black man's voice).
Now let's go back to gay power. We've come a long way since Stonewall, since reclaiming the streets, since the rage of ACT UP and the AIDS epidemic. It's illegal to kill us and legal for us to have sex, and most of us our content with that. We're complacent. We have some rights, we have our annual party, and we've lost the will to fight for more. We have forgotten that we have power, and we've forgotten how to use it. We used to march for rights, to save our lives and our jobs and our friends, to spur the government to action against AIDS (the political history of AIDS is actually very interesting). Now we march because we can, because we want to get drunk and take our clothes off.
See, what really disgusts me about Pride is not how wildly everyone parties; it's because this is the one time a year people can feel comfortable celebrating being gay, and most of them feel like it is enough. It is because this day manifests 364 days of repression, and what if we could be gay every day? I don't think Pride is enough; I think it's mainstream America trying to appease us. I think it's time we take back our power and use it for marriage reform, immigration reform, global rights, am I forgetting anything? Am I still coherent? I'm not all the way finished with this think, so I might not end up where I intended. I'm not trying to say that you should stop your annual party (though personally I'd be happy with that, but I'm not a partier and I try to respect people who are), but I don't think you should be content with that. That party is a symbol of power, and I don't think you should let that power go during the rest of the year.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Friday, June 22, 2012
San Francisco: Days 7-8
So I left off on the Mark Freeman interview.
Later that night, I saw "Keep the Lights On." My first reaction was: woobie of all woobies, Sarah Monette would go apeshit for this. I am mostly able to use normal people words, though I still have some rather strong emotions, which I'll get into later.
"Keep the Lights On" is darkly comedic or comically dark. I thought it was going to be angsty, but I wasn't expecting to care. But the first scene is a guy surfing through a phone sex line, and the audience just started giggling, and I was like "Oh, I'm not the only one who thinks this is funny? All right. I'm down with that." Of course, then the film gets into the Danish puppy-gay's drug addict boyfriend, and their painfully co-dependent relationship, but all the characters are still so fun and quirky that you honestly feel bad for them. At least I did.
Yesterday we interviewed Ira Sachs, the director of "Keep the Lights On." And the actor who played the drug-addict boyfriend of the Danish puppy was there as well. And...I kind of asked him if I could hug him. And I may have said something about puppies. And I feel really awkward and embarrassed about the whole thing, but my only regret is that I didn't get a photo. It's on film, though.
And if you know me, you know that I don't like touching people and I don't like men, so I don't even know why I did that, except that I have a strange relationship with ficitonal characters. I relate to characters better than I do to real people. And an actor, especially a woobie (woobie = kicked puppy. Adorable and tortured.) messes with my perception because he's a person, but he's a character, but he's a person that I can physically hug instead of just feel woobied about. And he's a ginger. Ginger trumps gender.
(I just realized: Ginger + gay + drug addict + abusive co-dependent relationship + prostitution = Felix from Doctrine of Labyrinths. It's a book series by Sarah Monette and one of my favorites of all time, and I think I know why I got all gushy now. Ah well.)
Yesterday was a long day. We were planning on interviewing Frameline volunteers, but we were all too drained, and I had nearly burst into tears during the morning meeting (don't worry; it's all on film), because for the first time I felt like I couldn't handle it. So I only went to one movie, "Children of Srikandi," a documentary about queer women in Indonesia, which was brave and an interesting concept, but no "Kuchu." Very scripted and not informative.
After that I went home and I took time to read a book and be alone, except for when one of the boys barged in my room demanding to know why I wasn't out having fun. Because my idea of fun doesn't involve alcohol and penises? Spending time with a book for the first time in over a week was glorious.
But if "Kuchu" made me want to become an activist, "Lights" made me want to write again. I haven't been able to write since I got here, not just because I've been so busy but because my mind feels really unstable right now. Not in a bad way, just that it's changing so fast and being opened to so many things, I cannot focus on the creative process long enough to create something. I'm thinking so much, but I don't have time to process anything, and writing is just a way to process life, isn't it?
Later that night, I saw "Keep the Lights On." My first reaction was: woobie of all woobies, Sarah Monette would go apeshit for this. I am mostly able to use normal people words, though I still have some rather strong emotions, which I'll get into later.
"Keep the Lights On" is darkly comedic or comically dark. I thought it was going to be angsty, but I wasn't expecting to care. But the first scene is a guy surfing through a phone sex line, and the audience just started giggling, and I was like "Oh, I'm not the only one who thinks this is funny? All right. I'm down with that." Of course, then the film gets into the Danish puppy-gay's drug addict boyfriend, and their painfully co-dependent relationship, but all the characters are still so fun and quirky that you honestly feel bad for them. At least I did.
Yesterday we interviewed Ira Sachs, the director of "Keep the Lights On." And the actor who played the drug-addict boyfriend of the Danish puppy was there as well. And...I kind of asked him if I could hug him. And I may have said something about puppies. And I feel really awkward and embarrassed about the whole thing, but my only regret is that I didn't get a photo. It's on film, though.
And if you know me, you know that I don't like touching people and I don't like men, so I don't even know why I did that, except that I have a strange relationship with ficitonal characters. I relate to characters better than I do to real people. And an actor, especially a woobie (woobie = kicked puppy. Adorable and tortured.) messes with my perception because he's a person, but he's a character, but he's a person that I can physically hug instead of just feel woobied about. And he's a ginger. Ginger trumps gender.
(I just realized: Ginger + gay + drug addict + abusive co-dependent relationship + prostitution = Felix from Doctrine of Labyrinths. It's a book series by Sarah Monette and one of my favorites of all time, and I think I know why I got all gushy now. Ah well.)
Yesterday was a long day. We were planning on interviewing Frameline volunteers, but we were all too drained, and I had nearly burst into tears during the morning meeting (don't worry; it's all on film), because for the first time I felt like I couldn't handle it. So I only went to one movie, "Children of Srikandi," a documentary about queer women in Indonesia, which was brave and an interesting concept, but no "Kuchu." Very scripted and not informative.
After that I went home and I took time to read a book and be alone, except for when one of the boys barged in my room demanding to know why I wasn't out having fun. Because my idea of fun doesn't involve alcohol and penises? Spending time with a book for the first time in over a week was glorious.
But if "Kuchu" made me want to become an activist, "Lights" made me want to write again. I haven't been able to write since I got here, not just because I've been so busy but because my mind feels really unstable right now. Not in a bad way, just that it's changing so fast and being opened to so many things, I cannot focus on the creative process long enough to create something. I'm thinking so much, but I don't have time to process anything, and writing is just a way to process life, isn't it?
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
San Francisco: Days 5 - 7
I think I left off at my angstfest. I've roller-coastered up and down a few times since then. I'm not sure where I am right now. I'm taking a lull just to write.
Movies I have seen: "Frauensee," "Beauty," "Call Me Kuchu"
Frauensee: Decent. A lot of German humor. Not much resolution or plot arc. Character relationships were developed enough to keep me interested through the sex scenes (What? Don't you get bored at movies that are just: "Repression, repression, SEX, unhappy ending"?)
Beauty: Brutal and dark. I liked it, but I was in a weird mood that night. I was feeling really happy and so wanted to see something dark. Don't ask me how that works; I just live in my mind, I don't understand it. Some very African cinematography, which, for those who did not have Engelking's AP English class, means that there are a lot of boring shots of nothing. And it was kind of "Repression, SEX, unhappy ending," but all the sex was very non-gratuitous (either ugly or violent or both) and there were some interesting psychological things going on with the main character. Like I said, I liked it, but I feel like a bad person for saying that.
"Call Me Kuchu" - seven-minute standing ovation for the documentary about Ugandan gays; allegedly a Castro record. The main activist, David Kato, was killed while they were filming. And those people are not hiding in closets, they are active, even though they risk their lives. I don't like to toss around the word "inspiring," but - not just from this movie, from everything this course has brought me - I'm starting to feel that I can't just sit still, because these are our people and our rights. It's the same hatred fueling the Anti-Homosexuality Bill in Uganda as the marriage amendment in Minnesota, and we think that we're okay because no one's killing us anymore, but 1) they are, not just globally and not just in the south, I'm talking Trevor Project here, and 2) it's not just going to get better. Yeah, times are changing, but that's because people are fighting, and I don't think a lot of people realize just how hard some of these people fight. I didn't. I think I'm turning into an activist.
Interviews we have done:
Jack Dubowsky, director of "Submerged Queer Spaces," a documentary about places in San Francisco that used to be gay bars; he is also a representative for the Out Twin Cities film festival. A very chill guy, an experienced documentarian, so he knew how to be a good interviewee. He also flirted shamelessly with our sound guy, who is nineteen (not sure how old Jack is, but we're going to estimate 40+). He invited us to a bar, and then got a panicked look on his face when our director said that she was the only one who was of age - to drink, that is.
Jim Farmer, festival director of Out on Film in Atlanta. Apparently Atlanta is a really good place to be gay; like a tiny island oasis in The South. The Atlanta film festival picked up "Hear Me Now," the documentary about the Deaf/Queer community that a group from this class made last year (incidentally, they are also going to New York, Philadelphia, St. Petersburg, and the Czech Republic, if I understand everything correctly). He was a complete Southern gentleman and did not hit on our sound guy.
Mark Freeman, director of "Transgender Tuesdays," a documentary about the first public health clinic to offer sex-change hormones (I'm not sure if that is the most politically correct term; I forget what he used). He went off on some long-winded tangents, but I think we got some great sound bites. I think he mentioned a partner, so he did not overtly hit on our sound guy, but did give him a hug.
Yes, it does bother me a little that all our interviewees are white gay men. We tried to get the women who directed "Call Me Kuchu," but though they were interested (which is honor enough for me), they were also really busy and we couldn't get any scheduled that worked for both of us. Our director also scored Susan Stryker, who is some kind of transgender feminist goddess, but she cancelled on us last minute. So we're stuck with the white gay guys, who are still interesting.
Touristy stuff I have done:
Um. I've been around the Castro and the Haight. Seen a lot of naked people. Mosly ugly old naked men; apparently nudity is legal here, but not regulated. I've eaten sushi twice. I found the best cookie store ever, which also happens to sell underwear. Went into some pipe stores with other people - I don't smoke, but I can admire the glasswork. Oh, and I found a store that sells nothing but yarn, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, in every different material and color you can imagine. I got some greenish-bluish stuff that was made from seaweed, apparently. Honestly, I kind of want to move here just for the yarn. I think I've pretty much settled on Monterey for grad school. After that...well, we'll see.
I do know that I will never move to San Francisco. Oh, I love it here, it's like a gay paradise. But it's an island. It's not the real world. It's a pilgrimage site, where you see what can be, and then you take that back to freaking Eau Claire, Wisconsin, and Minnesota with its stupid marriage amendment, because I don't feel comfortable being in a place that's just okay anymore. We need to spread the freaking love.
Movies I have seen: "Frauensee," "Beauty," "Call Me Kuchu"
Frauensee: Decent. A lot of German humor. Not much resolution or plot arc. Character relationships were developed enough to keep me interested through the sex scenes (What? Don't you get bored at movies that are just: "Repression, repression, SEX, unhappy ending"?)
Beauty: Brutal and dark. I liked it, but I was in a weird mood that night. I was feeling really happy and so wanted to see something dark. Don't ask me how that works; I just live in my mind, I don't understand it. Some very African cinematography, which, for those who did not have Engelking's AP English class, means that there are a lot of boring shots of nothing. And it was kind of "Repression, SEX, unhappy ending," but all the sex was very non-gratuitous (either ugly or violent or both) and there were some interesting psychological things going on with the main character. Like I said, I liked it, but I feel like a bad person for saying that.
"Call Me Kuchu" - seven-minute standing ovation for the documentary about Ugandan gays; allegedly a Castro record. The main activist, David Kato, was killed while they were filming. And those people are not hiding in closets, they are active, even though they risk their lives. I don't like to toss around the word "inspiring," but - not just from this movie, from everything this course has brought me - I'm starting to feel that I can't just sit still, because these are our people and our rights. It's the same hatred fueling the Anti-Homosexuality Bill in Uganda as the marriage amendment in Minnesota, and we think that we're okay because no one's killing us anymore, but 1) they are, not just globally and not just in the south, I'm talking Trevor Project here, and 2) it's not just going to get better. Yeah, times are changing, but that's because people are fighting, and I don't think a lot of people realize just how hard some of these people fight. I didn't. I think I'm turning into an activist.
Interviews we have done:
Jack Dubowsky, director of "Submerged Queer Spaces," a documentary about places in San Francisco that used to be gay bars; he is also a representative for the Out Twin Cities film festival. A very chill guy, an experienced documentarian, so he knew how to be a good interviewee. He also flirted shamelessly with our sound guy, who is nineteen (not sure how old Jack is, but we're going to estimate 40+). He invited us to a bar, and then got a panicked look on his face when our director said that she was the only one who was of age - to drink, that is.
Jim Farmer, festival director of Out on Film in Atlanta. Apparently Atlanta is a really good place to be gay; like a tiny island oasis in The South. The Atlanta film festival picked up "Hear Me Now," the documentary about the Deaf/Queer community that a group from this class made last year (incidentally, they are also going to New York, Philadelphia, St. Petersburg, and the Czech Republic, if I understand everything correctly). He was a complete Southern gentleman and did not hit on our sound guy.
Mark Freeman, director of "Transgender Tuesdays," a documentary about the first public health clinic to offer sex-change hormones (I'm not sure if that is the most politically correct term; I forget what he used). He went off on some long-winded tangents, but I think we got some great sound bites. I think he mentioned a partner, so he did not overtly hit on our sound guy, but did give him a hug.
Yes, it does bother me a little that all our interviewees are white gay men. We tried to get the women who directed "Call Me Kuchu," but though they were interested (which is honor enough for me), they were also really busy and we couldn't get any scheduled that worked for both of us. Our director also scored Susan Stryker, who is some kind of transgender feminist goddess, but she cancelled on us last minute. So we're stuck with the white gay guys, who are still interesting.
Touristy stuff I have done:
Um. I've been around the Castro and the Haight. Seen a lot of naked people. Mosly ugly old naked men; apparently nudity is legal here, but not regulated. I've eaten sushi twice. I found the best cookie store ever, which also happens to sell underwear. Went into some pipe stores with other people - I don't smoke, but I can admire the glasswork. Oh, and I found a store that sells nothing but yarn, floor to ceiling, wall to wall, in every different material and color you can imagine. I got some greenish-bluish stuff that was made from seaweed, apparently. Honestly, I kind of want to move here just for the yarn. I think I've pretty much settled on Monterey for grad school. After that...well, we'll see.
I do know that I will never move to San Francisco. Oh, I love it here, it's like a gay paradise. But it's an island. It's not the real world. It's a pilgrimage site, where you see what can be, and then you take that back to freaking Eau Claire, Wisconsin, and Minnesota with its stupid marriage amendment, because I don't feel comfortable being in a place that's just okay anymore. We need to spread the freaking love.
Monday, June 18, 2012
San Francisco - Days 3-4
The days are starting to blur together into a montage of movie theaters.
Day 3 we got our storyboard approved. And my video still sucks, but I'm getting better. I think.
I skipped the girls shorts (films) to see a documentary about the history of San Francisco as a gay city, which sounded interesting and I wanted to solicit the director, but it did not have Amber Benson in it. It was quite a disappointment. It was boring, shots of buildings with anecdotes narrated by voice-overs, the camera was so, so shaky, and the music was kind of trippy. . The whole thing made me want to put my head between my knees and cover my ears. Actually, I kind of did a few times.
Afterwards I tried to solicit the director, but he was squirrely. I managed to pin him down for a fime later that day, which led to some really messy phone calls trying to get my group together. On the way down, I called to say we were running a few minutes late. "That's okay. We could even do it another day if you wanted." Yes. Yes. Another day. Why did I not suggest this before? Because he was so squirrely I was afraid he was going to run away. But we're actually doing him today.
Day 4 we pushed the morning class meeting an hour earlier, because some of us (mostly me) wanted to see a film that was playing at nine. We almost did not make it, though, because that turned into the meeting where everyone talks about their feelings. Honestly, tell us we seriously need to check in, and that we should be responsible enough to take out our own trash, and it's all good. Don't spend an hour talking about how unappreciated you feel.
We literally ran to the Bunnies (quick like a bunny!) and made it with plenty of time to spare what with traliers and everything. I was in such a hurry I did not even grab tissues, so of course this was the first film to make me cry. There's just something about a fluffy animated bunny saying "I love my girlfriend" that makes me really happy. The part that made me lose it, though, was "Met a girl. Broke her tree. Now I feel bad" - "So fix it!" - "Fix it?" There's a quote from Margaret Atwood about why we cry at hapy endings - because we know they are impossible. It's just so simple and beautiful and perfect, like life never is! But it is in bunny world.
After that, though, and even during that, I started feelng like the odd kid out at the party. Which really shouldn't happen in San Francisco. But the people who went with me to see the Bunnies didn't want to see it because they thought a bunny with a chainsaw sounded like the coolest thing ever; they wanted to see it to gawk at how weird it was. And later I tried to get people to go out with me while I took footage of the street, but everyone had gone out for a birthday party th enight before, and was trying to do homework today. And then no one at all wanted to go to the animated shorts, instead seeing a movie with lots of gay sex where apparently it's not even simulated, they're actually having sex on camera. Too bad, because the shorts were fantastic. I just don't have anyone to talk about them with.
And it isn't even that everyone was busy; it's just that people kept saying yes and then changing their minds. None of them love me more than shopping. And really, we just met, and all our group cohesiveness is a mutually maintained illusion, because I don't actually know these people, but I like that illusion. I hope this doesn't turn into Marburg. This can't turn into Marburg. It's just a reminder to myself that Marburg is always with me.
At least the weather is nice today. Cloudy with a high of 62. No, seriously, I'm really excited. I'm in the mood for a dreary day, not in a sulky emo way; I find it soothing, sometimes.
Day 3 we got our storyboard approved. And my video still sucks, but I'm getting better. I think.
I skipped the girls shorts (films) to see a documentary about the history of San Francisco as a gay city, which sounded interesting and I wanted to solicit the director, but it did not have Amber Benson in it. It was quite a disappointment. It was boring, shots of buildings with anecdotes narrated by voice-overs, the camera was so, so shaky, and the music was kind of trippy. . The whole thing made me want to put my head between my knees and cover my ears. Actually, I kind of did a few times.
Afterwards I tried to solicit the director, but he was squirrely. I managed to pin him down for a fime later that day, which led to some really messy phone calls trying to get my group together. On the way down, I called to say we were running a few minutes late. "That's okay. We could even do it another day if you wanted." Yes. Yes. Another day. Why did I not suggest this before? Because he was so squirrely I was afraid he was going to run away. But we're actually doing him today.
Day 4 we pushed the morning class meeting an hour earlier, because some of us (mostly me) wanted to see a film that was playing at nine. We almost did not make it, though, because that turned into the meeting where everyone talks about their feelings. Honestly, tell us we seriously need to check in, and that we should be responsible enough to take out our own trash, and it's all good. Don't spend an hour talking about how unappreciated you feel.
We literally ran to the Bunnies (quick like a bunny!) and made it with plenty of time to spare what with traliers and everything. I was in such a hurry I did not even grab tissues, so of course this was the first film to make me cry. There's just something about a fluffy animated bunny saying "I love my girlfriend" that makes me really happy. The part that made me lose it, though, was "Met a girl. Broke her tree. Now I feel bad" - "So fix it!" - "Fix it?" There's a quote from Margaret Atwood about why we cry at hapy endings - because we know they are impossible. It's just so simple and beautiful and perfect, like life never is! But it is in bunny world.
After that, though, and even during that, I started feelng like the odd kid out at the party. Which really shouldn't happen in San Francisco. But the people who went with me to see the Bunnies didn't want to see it because they thought a bunny with a chainsaw sounded like the coolest thing ever; they wanted to see it to gawk at how weird it was. And later I tried to get people to go out with me while I took footage of the street, but everyone had gone out for a birthday party th enight before, and was trying to do homework today. And then no one at all wanted to go to the animated shorts, instead seeing a movie with lots of gay sex where apparently it's not even simulated, they're actually having sex on camera. Too bad, because the shorts were fantastic. I just don't have anyone to talk about them with.
And it isn't even that everyone was busy; it's just that people kept saying yes and then changing their minds. None of them love me more than shopping. And really, we just met, and all our group cohesiveness is a mutually maintained illusion, because I don't actually know these people, but I like that illusion. I hope this doesn't turn into Marburg. This can't turn into Marburg. It's just a reminder to myself that Marburg is always with me.
At least the weather is nice today. Cloudy with a high of 62. No, seriously, I'm really excited. I'm in the mood for a dreary day, not in a sulky emo way; I find it soothing, sometimes.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
San Francisco - Day 2
Today was the day I crashed, as I knew I would. Really, two days on a high is more than enough.
I saw two films yesterday - though technically one was two separate films because they were both about lesbian feminist activists. The first one, "Passionate Politics," covered the work of Charlotte Bunch, from her early work with the Civil Rights Movement, to her branching into feminism and starting women's shelters all over the world. The second film, "A Force of Nature," was a bit more whimsical in its take on Ellen Ratner, showing her constantly trying to kiss bizarre animals (fish, goats, turkeys, you name it.) The first five minutes were people talking about how terrifying she is and how much they love her; she is an unstoppable force of nature.
The second (or third, depending how you count) film I saw was "My Brother the Devil." It was the first fiction film I saw at the Castro, and the reason I burned out quite when I did. First, the accents. It is a British film about Egyptian immigrants, and to Midwestern ears, that is such a bizarre cockatil of accents I found myself wishing badly for subtitles.
But really, it was the story that annoyed me. It was a coming-of-age drama, so I was not too keen on it to begin with, but my group pressured me into it, and it was about siblings. There aren't very many queer stories with siblings, have you noticed that? Despite there being a correlation between older brothers and being gay. I went in at least open to the possibility that it would not suck.
Maybe it was just cultural differences, but I could not get into the story. There were a lot of subplots that did not quite seem to connect: the big brother trying to leave the gang, the little brother trying to follow him into the gang, the big brother realizing he's gay and getting a boyfriend, the little brother getting a girlfriend. Of them all, the little brother getting a girlfriend was the most superfluous, and I suspect that it was put in there to make the film more palatable to straight audiences. Actually, the big brother being gay was also kind of a pointless plot point. The little brother is really upset when he first finds out, but after he gets shot he's okay with it. It makes no sense. Or maybe it was explained in the dialogue. But really, at a queer film festival, you should not say that a character being gay added nothing to the plot.
That's my rant on the first film here that I truly did not like; hopefully there will not be many more.
I was completely burned out after "Devil," and even though I knew it would help if I ate, I did not have the energy to go out and find food. So when I returned to the condo and found one of my classmates had made huge amounts of pesto pasta, as well as raspberry scones, I just about died of gratitude. It gave me the strength to power through our storyboard with my group.
For some reason I still can't post pictures, which is inordinately irritating.
I saw two films yesterday - though technically one was two separate films because they were both about lesbian feminist activists. The first one, "Passionate Politics," covered the work of Charlotte Bunch, from her early work with the Civil Rights Movement, to her branching into feminism and starting women's shelters all over the world. The second film, "A Force of Nature," was a bit more whimsical in its take on Ellen Ratner, showing her constantly trying to kiss bizarre animals (fish, goats, turkeys, you name it.) The first five minutes were people talking about how terrifying she is and how much they love her; she is an unstoppable force of nature.
The second (or third, depending how you count) film I saw was "My Brother the Devil." It was the first fiction film I saw at the Castro, and the reason I burned out quite when I did. First, the accents. It is a British film about Egyptian immigrants, and to Midwestern ears, that is such a bizarre cockatil of accents I found myself wishing badly for subtitles.
But really, it was the story that annoyed me. It was a coming-of-age drama, so I was not too keen on it to begin with, but my group pressured me into it, and it was about siblings. There aren't very many queer stories with siblings, have you noticed that? Despite there being a correlation between older brothers and being gay. I went in at least open to the possibility that it would not suck.
Maybe it was just cultural differences, but I could not get into the story. There were a lot of subplots that did not quite seem to connect: the big brother trying to leave the gang, the little brother trying to follow him into the gang, the big brother realizing he's gay and getting a boyfriend, the little brother getting a girlfriend. Of them all, the little brother getting a girlfriend was the most superfluous, and I suspect that it was put in there to make the film more palatable to straight audiences. Actually, the big brother being gay was also kind of a pointless plot point. The little brother is really upset when he first finds out, but after he gets shot he's okay with it. It makes no sense. Or maybe it was explained in the dialogue. But really, at a queer film festival, you should not say that a character being gay added nothing to the plot.
That's my rant on the first film here that I truly did not like; hopefully there will not be many more.
I was completely burned out after "Devil," and even though I knew it would help if I ate, I did not have the energy to go out and find food. So when I returned to the condo and found one of my classmates had made huge amounts of pesto pasta, as well as raspberry scones, I just about died of gratitude. It gave me the strength to power through our storyboard with my group.
For some reason I still can't post pictures, which is inordinately irritating.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
San Francisco -Days 0 and 1
As I may have mentioned, I am taking a trip to SAN FRANCISCO as part of a summer course. What kind of course, you ask? Well, technically it's in the Women's Studies department, but really it's gay (Ah, you say, That makes sense now.) and movies. We get to attend the Frameline Film Festival and write critiques of the films, as well as film our own documentay. My group's assigned topic is activist filmmakers, which we kind of morphed into film festivals as sites of social change.
We are staying in a condo owned by a fantastic Australian man and his partner. In the back there is a lovely bamboo garden that is going to be a refuge for many of us during the hectic coming weeks. I had a picture, but my computer is being weird and won't let me show you.
That first night after we unpacked, half the class went out with the professors for sushi. Have you ever had sushi with a professor? It's intereresting. Especially when they drink sake. It was only sometime that night that I realized I was actually IN FREAKING SAN FRANCISCO, and it made me a little loopy. I'm still a little loopy.
Because today I got to see the HRC building that used to be Harvey Milk's camera shop, and the Harvey Milk Memorial Elementary school (seriously, everything's named after that guy here. He's like L.E. Phillips is in Eau Claire.) And THE Pride Flag (which I don't think is as big as the, what, 20x30 one we have in EC? But it was actually flying, so who could tell), and I wandered through the Haight (which I learned is not spelled "Hate," which makes a lot more sense, since it's where all the peace and love hippies hang out).
But if you go to San Francisco, and you're queer, the Castro Theater is the gay mecca. Harvey Milk appears on the screen, and the whole place bursts into cheers and applause - because everyon knows who he is, everyone worships him, and they're not afraid to show it.
It's not like a janky old movie theater. Think of a fancy opera house - like the Ordway in Minneapolis, though I was put more in mind of the Semperoper in Dresden. I was seated on the end of our group, next to a nice stranger who explained the references in the old Frameline trailers that they always play on opening night, and I told him about us being a student group from Wisconsin.
This year the opening movie was "Vito," a documentary about the life of activist Vito Russo. If you don't know about him, you should, and a good way to learn about him is through that documentary. First the guy spent ten years writing a book on Hollywood portrayal of gay characters while running an activist group, and then in the eighties he got big into AIDS activism - even before he himself was diagnosed with AIDS. Around that point in the film, you could hear the entire theater sniffling. I was literally handing out tissues left and right - one to my classmate and one to the nice stranger next to me. Seriously, they say Minnesota nice, but we're also reserved - we don't talk to strangers in the theater.
I love this city. I thought going to college and befriending other gays was a mind-blowing moment for me, but coming here, and seeing the gay everywhere - it's changing my worldview. But since I am a cynical bitch (and proud!) I realize I cannot live on a gay island for the rest of my life. And it makes me think of what kind of narrative I want to create. The worlds where sexual orientation doesn't matter and everyone is effectively bisexual - those are nice fantasy and commentary, but that's not what we aspire to. Gays and straights are always going to be different, the way men and women are always going to be different. But that doesn't mean we can't get along. What we need is more peaceful crossover between the gay and straight worlds.
Looking at the odd little shorts I've jotted down since I started this course and have had queer theory coming out of my ears, I realize that is something of a recurring theme: a gay jock rooming with a straight nerd, a sibling too young to understand what her brother means when he says he's gay, a straight-identified girl whose attempts to find her lesbian friend a date cause her to question her own sexuality. Crossover. Communication. And with increased presence and visibility, I believe that we can show straight people they have no reason to fear us, and gay people they have no reason to fear straights.
But I do love this city. I have decided, with the help of one of my professors who has lived just about everywhere, that I would much rather go to Monterey than New York. I have a plan for my life! I know what I'm going to do when I graduate! And I'm no longer panicking! San Francisco has done wonderful things for me.
We are staying in a condo owned by a fantastic Australian man and his partner. In the back there is a lovely bamboo garden that is going to be a refuge for many of us during the hectic coming weeks. I had a picture, but my computer is being weird and won't let me show you.
That first night after we unpacked, half the class went out with the professors for sushi. Have you ever had sushi with a professor? It's intereresting. Especially when they drink sake. It was only sometime that night that I realized I was actually IN FREAKING SAN FRANCISCO, and it made me a little loopy. I'm still a little loopy.
Because today I got to see the HRC building that used to be Harvey Milk's camera shop, and the Harvey Milk Memorial Elementary school (seriously, everything's named after that guy here. He's like L.E. Phillips is in Eau Claire.) And THE Pride Flag (which I don't think is as big as the, what, 20x30 one we have in EC? But it was actually flying, so who could tell), and I wandered through the Haight (which I learned is not spelled "Hate," which makes a lot more sense, since it's where all the peace and love hippies hang out).
But if you go to San Francisco, and you're queer, the Castro Theater is the gay mecca. Harvey Milk appears on the screen, and the whole place bursts into cheers and applause - because everyon knows who he is, everyone worships him, and they're not afraid to show it.
It's not like a janky old movie theater. Think of a fancy opera house - like the Ordway in Minneapolis, though I was put more in mind of the Semperoper in Dresden. I was seated on the end of our group, next to a nice stranger who explained the references in the old Frameline trailers that they always play on opening night, and I told him about us being a student group from Wisconsin.
This year the opening movie was "Vito," a documentary about the life of activist Vito Russo. If you don't know about him, you should, and a good way to learn about him is through that documentary. First the guy spent ten years writing a book on Hollywood portrayal of gay characters while running an activist group, and then in the eighties he got big into AIDS activism - even before he himself was diagnosed with AIDS. Around that point in the film, you could hear the entire theater sniffling. I was literally handing out tissues left and right - one to my classmate and one to the nice stranger next to me. Seriously, they say Minnesota nice, but we're also reserved - we don't talk to strangers in the theater.
I love this city. I thought going to college and befriending other gays was a mind-blowing moment for me, but coming here, and seeing the gay everywhere - it's changing my worldview. But since I am a cynical bitch (and proud!) I realize I cannot live on a gay island for the rest of my life. And it makes me think of what kind of narrative I want to create. The worlds where sexual orientation doesn't matter and everyone is effectively bisexual - those are nice fantasy and commentary, but that's not what we aspire to. Gays and straights are always going to be different, the way men and women are always going to be different. But that doesn't mean we can't get along. What we need is more peaceful crossover between the gay and straight worlds.
Looking at the odd little shorts I've jotted down since I started this course and have had queer theory coming out of my ears, I realize that is something of a recurring theme: a gay jock rooming with a straight nerd, a sibling too young to understand what her brother means when he says he's gay, a straight-identified girl whose attempts to find her lesbian friend a date cause her to question her own sexuality. Crossover. Communication. And with increased presence and visibility, I believe that we can show straight people they have no reason to fear us, and gay people they have no reason to fear straights.
But I do love this city. I have decided, with the help of one of my professors who has lived just about everywhere, that I would much rather go to Monterey than New York. I have a plan for my life! I know what I'm going to do when I graduate! And I'm no longer panicking! San Francisco has done wonderful things for me.
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