LGBT+ History Month: Moonlight Film Review

Chiron, a young African-American boy, finds guidance in Juan, a drug dealer, who teaches him to carve his own path. As he grows up in Miami, Juan's advice leaves a lasting impression on him.

Moonlight came out in 2016, and if you weren’t aware of it before the 2017 Oscars, you would be after every news outlet reported the story of how La La Land was presented as Best Picture, when really a mistake had been made and Moonlight was the true winner of the award. In recent years, I’ve had a Cineworld Unlimited Card, meaning I pay a set amount each year and have access to as many screenings as I’d like. However, the year Moonlight and every other Oscars contender came out, going to the cinema was an expensive thing, and I only really saw the big films when they eventually came out on DVD or were moved to streaming platforms. This meant that even though every bone in my body wanted to see Moonlight, I’ve only been able to see it recently due to it being shown on Film4 and me recording it. I knew that it touched LGBTQ+ topics, but other than that, nothing much apart from a shot of a boy being held up in water.

 

Taking place over 3 life chapters, we’re introduced to a young Chiron who goes by the nickname Little, which is also the title of this first section. After being chased by bullies, Little is helped by Juan, who is the only adult that he speaks to in this entire act. Alex R. Hibbert gives us this emotional performance, making me want to climb through the screen and give his character, Little, a hug. I always say that child actors need to be protected at all costs, and he is another name added to the list. As his only lines are when he’s with the character of Juan, he has to put everything into his body language and show his emotions in other ways. His performance felt so real, especially across from Mahershala Ali who plays drug dealer Juan. Seeing Ali as tough but caring really made this film feel positive when things weren’t going right. Even when there are bullies and bad people, this film reminds us that there is hope and inspiration. I was disappointed that Juan’s character only appeared in this first film chapter, but even though his screen time was short, his influence on the character of Little stayed with him and us up until the final frame. Truly beautiful, finally getting to see the scene where they’re in the water was so touching. After seeing it everywhere, to learn of its meaning, in promises and care, was something so special. I know to some it will seem simple, but compared to the scale of the film, it’s such an important, meaningful moment that sticks with us as viewers but also the characters. To have multiple people play the same parts, it really does emphasise the thought and dedication put into this film. Even though each portrayal of Chiron was different as he grew with age, each actor worked hard to play the same person to continue this story with respect and grace.

 

Chiron, the title of the second chapter, now follows Little in high school, now wanting to choose his own name and fate. Breaking down the story like this reminded me of the film Boyhood, and how we see characters grow and change over time. Written and directed by Barry Jenkins, Moonlight is based on an unpublished semi-autobiographical play by Tarell Alvin McCraney. You can really see the theatre aspects of this film, obviously with the different acts, but also with its large sections of dialogue, really letting us learn about the characters thoughts and feelings with what’s going on. Even though it’s estimated that the budget was up to $4 million, everything about this felt like an indie film, something tucked away that wouldn’t be seen by vast audiences. That style really worked with the telling of the story, but at times it did feel a little flat for me. I love things with drama, changing scenes that keep me hooked, but Moonlight didn’t really do that. It’s beautiful and takes its time to show us how love and freedom doesn’t come overnight, but that caused me to not be as excited as I wanted to be with it. I think that ‘bored’ is a harsh word, and it was so totally beautiful, but it definitely had me feeling a certain way towards it at times, I just can’t describe it.

To round off, act 3 is titled ‘Black’, the nickname given to Chiron by Kevin. As the whirlwind of life slows down, we see forgiveness and love in full force during this section. As well as forgiving his mother for not being the mum he needed, Chiron goes to visit Kevin who is the only person he has experience sexual pleasure with. Beautiful and tender, being able to see this man grow was something we don’t often see in films or even in real life. This visually alluring film allows men, specifically black and gay, to be seen and heard in films in an emotive and understanding way. Sure, we grow up having all the superheroes be men, all the villains be men, it’s only more recently in film history that women are given more than a set of underwear as a costume and the chance to talk about periods and faking orgasms. Men may have had a higher stand since the beginning, but they’ve also had to hide a lot. I’m so glad this film gives representation to men’s thoughts and feelings about life, their family, school, sexuality, identity and so much more. Fascinating, we get to sit down and see a story that rarely ever gets told, and according to The New York Times, The Guardian, and so many other sources, it’s one of the best films of the 21^st century. 

 

To be the first film with an all-black cast and LGBTQ+ themes to win the Best Picture award at the Oscars, Moonlight really is an incredible movie moment that has carved its place in film history. Personally, I prefer a little more drama and excitement to really keep me hooked to the screen, but I can’t deny how loving and award-worthy this film is.

LGBT+ History Month: Jewel's Catch One Documentary Review

In this 2016 Netflix documentary, filmmakers explore the history of the oldest black-owned disco in America and its owner Jewel Thais-Williams, who defied discrimination and hate for 42 years.

I’m a big fan of documentaries, especially those that let us see into an unknown world, people who don’t get the credit that they deserve. Sure, it’s nice seeing a big blockbuster biopic, but to be able to discover new talent and people is a really lovely experience. So, when I was scrolling through Netflix and saw this film pop up, I knew I had to watch it. As the description suggests, we’re welcomed with open arms to Jewel’s Catch One club, home to anyone who doesn’t feel like they can be at home anywhere else.

Directed and produced by C. Fitz, I was really struck by her style, really diving into the true story of this club and not leaving any stone unturned. Told by Jewel herself, along with friends and club patrons, I loved how the talking heads sections dictated the story, with overlays of archived and filmed footage. This really made everything feel truthful and down-to-earth, focusing on the people and their lives with the club rather than making things feel over the top. Some documentaries make something seem larger than life, painting a picture that makes the film seem fun, but doesn’t actually match the truth. Instead of going in deep into the wild times at the club, we see the people that made the club instead which I really appreciate.

 

In an hour and a half, we see 42 years played out in front of us. In some ways, 4 decades feels like a really long time, but in others it doesn’t. The fact that Jewel has created this wonderous community in this time is inspiring and magic to watch. As well as just talking about Catch One, I thought it was brilliant how the story swayed through black and LGBTQ+ history too, as that’s also such a big part of the club. From police inspections to the AIDS crisis, Catch One was there and stood strong through all of it, and I’m so glad that all of those moments were shared, the good and the bad.

 

From the start to the end, the documentary wraps up with the closing down party of the club from 2015. Feeling sad, I didn’t realise that the club had closed, so after watching an incredible journey, I hoped I’d be able to go and dance their one day. But to back up what I’ve said, having Jewel herself plus her friends and patrons share their thoughts and feelings was a loving way to show support to the black and LGBTQ+ people in America and further afield. As a friend of the club, Marlon Behn, said when being interviewed on the red carpet at the ‘Last Dance’ party, “when everyone thought she couldn’t do it…she did something equivalent to Martin Luther King and Malcolm X”. This line stood out to me so much, really affirming with me that we don’t need to be well known and remembered to create history and be there for the people around us. I’m so glad this documentary has been made so that people know of Jewel’s love, life, and all that she’s selflessly done over the years. She may not be known by as many people as MLK, but her name will surely live on forever with those who do.

LGBT+ History Month: The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson Documentary Review

Just for the record, I will be using the pronouns she/her for Marsha. According to Tatler, Marsha sometimes identified as gay or as a drag queen, but transgender wasn’t really a widespread term at the time she was alive. With research, it seems that there is no particular right way to address her, even her family and friends in the film use a range of he/she/they. If you have any other research or knowledge, please let me know so I can change my writing accordingly and respectfully.

Marsha P. Johnson was a trans-rights activist who played a big role in important moments for the LGBTQ+ movement including the Stonewall protests for which she was nicknamed the "Saint of Christopher Street" (where the Stonewall Inn is located), because of the generosity she had shown towards people in New York's LGBTQ+ community. The Death and Life of Marsha P. Johnson is a 2017 documentary film that looks at her life and the mystery around her death in 1992 which was initially ruled as suicide by police despite suspicious circumstances.

When this documentary came out, there were a lot of people against it. This was because the film idea had originally come from Tourmaline, a transgender artist and activist. She had spent years archiving, researching, interviewing, and really getting to grips with who Marsha was and the life that she led. However, instead of her making the film, David France apparently stole the idea and made the film instead. Even though he is gay and known for his investigative journalism on LGBTQ+ topics, Tourmaline and others felt that this move was continuing the hurt that Marsha was trying to stop. Instead of giving the documentary funding to a black, trans creative, Netflix gave the multimillion-dollar deal to a white man. When writing this review, I think it’s important to state the facts, and the truth is that even though we as people have come a long way in love and acceptance, there is still not enough being done. Have things really changed? This film was more of a murder, detective mystery than I expected it to be. I thought we’d see the life of a great person and the legacy with that history, but Netflix has made some pretty good documentaries, so I was intrigued in how they were going to present this mystery. Overall, I did like the film and the stories told in it, but I would’ve loved to have seen Tourmaline’s version with the love and creativity, more than the classic Netflix documentary style that people expect.

I think I first became aware of Marsha a few years ago. It was pride month and people were positing pictures of her on twitter, reminding the world that a black, trans woman was there at Stonewall. She is one of the people who has made life what it is today for LGBTQ+ people. Seeing her face shared each year, she was always someone who interested me, really inspiring me to keep pushing for love and justice. However due to the problems with Tourmaline not getting the nod to make the film and the arguments about it, I didn’t watch the film when it was released. Now some time has passed, and I want to learn more about this incredible person, of course a film is the first place to turn. Like I said about the murder mystery style, I think I would’ve preferred, even expected, a film about Marsha’s life and legacy, and not death. Although I guess the title gives it away.

Like all Netflix documentaries, we have this clean and crisp style however with this film it didn’t feel quite right with me. I felt lost in time, unsure if what I was seeing was old or new, left wondering if Marsha’s death was more important than her life. Following Victoria Cruz’s investigation, I think the main focus of the film is to let the audience know how so many trans people really do put their life on the line by coming out and that even though Marsha sadly died nearly 30 years ago, things are still awfully bad for people who don’t identify as straight. The editing, pulling in a mixture of archived footage as well as crime-like b-roll, really added to the drama of her death and amplified Victoria’s points. Lingering on certain moments, we were swept through emotions like sadness and anger, pushing the idea that the people with power don’t care for you unless you’re white and like the opposite gender. When we see Sylvia Rivera’s funeral, a close friend to Marsha and fellow gay and trans rights activist, a news reporter describes her life as trying to “protect the rights of this most despised of minorities” and watching it, I had to pause it. It genuinely made me feel sick. I’m sad and angry and tired of human beings not free to be themselves. The way that they are described like wild beats who want to harm people, when truly that’s the description of the people hating them. Watching something like this really is great to learn and understand how life has changed, but it also feels like people are still being kicked down and like it won’t ever end.

I don’t think that there was much music, but when there was, it was deep and used strings to create thrill and worry within us. Again, I liked this style, but I think when showing archived footage, it would have been really nice to use lighter, brighter music to portray happiness and goodness that Marsha and her friends gave to the world. My favourite use of diegetic sound was the hymn sung at Marsha’s funeral which played over gatherings of people walking in the streets with balloons and artwork and stood near the river in tears. It felt so bittersweet, hearing this angelic song over images of pain.

Throughout the film, we see Victoria collect her evidence towards the investigation, and as far as I suspected, it felt like it wasn’t going anywhere. However, about 10 minutes from the end, she fills an envelope, addresses it to the FBI and delivers it. I both loved this ending and felt quite disappointed by it. I loved that even though it feels like the world had given up, someone hadn’t, and often all it takes is one person. To leave us on this cliff-hanger, it amplifies the point that we will probably never know the truth about Marsha, and that deaths will continue unless the people in power do what they should to make the law fair and just. But at the same time, it’s left me feeling sad, feeling like all Marsha was good for was creating a mystery that Netflix could turn into a film. Even to end on this mystery and then show one final clip of her saying something provoking or funny or meaningful, would have bought the film full circle, really letting us see that a beautiful person was taken all those years ago, but her life and love lives on. I guess it’s personal preference, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to decide if I liked the way it rounded off or not, but it feels like it’s not the end.

As fellow drag queen Sylvia Rivera said in the film, “She’ll always be in the front of this parade.” I’m so glad I’ve been able to learn more about Marsha “Pay It No Mind” Johnson and the path that she has paved for so many people. She’ll never be forgotten, and I’m glad to see and know that in life she was surrounded by wonder and hope, and that definitely did not leave this world with her. I think without the drama of directors, the film allows the viewer a great insight into the death and mystery of a miraculous woman who deserved all the love in the world. But for me, I was expecting to see more of her colourful life, which a different director may have given to us.

LGBT+ History Month: Tangerine Film Review

When a hooker finds out that her boyfriend has cheated on her whilst she was in jail, she sets out with her best friend to find him and his new lover to teach them a lesson.

After watching The Florida Project last year, I became so interested with the idea of films not needing to be shot on big cameras with big budgets to really be good. The film Tangerine has always been one I wanted to watch, so when I saw that it was showing on Christmas Day night 2020, I snuck downstairs to record it. Knowing that Sean Baker directed this too, I was really intrigued to see a film fully shot on an iPhone and how that would work. I see lots of films and shorts, and often find that the quality is fantastic, and the look of it is something to remember, but the story doesn’t necessarily match up to that which is a big shame. If people write something so good, but don’t have the budget or the contacts to make the film look professional, I feel like juries and festivals instantly see something as bad quality and assume that the narrative is too. This whole film is shot using lenses and there is equipment to help with production, but to know that we are seeing this film through an iPhone 5s, inspires me, and I hope it inspires others too, to take what we have and just make the stories we want to tell.

 

I didn’t know what to expect from this film when I pressed play, but I was really intrigued with what I found. Following a day in the life of Hollywood and its people in a way we don’t typically see was a cool twist on the dreams and celebrity lifestyles we normally see in films. When I think of the location, glitz and glamour is the first thing to come to mind, so it’s interesting to think that both the lead characters also think of that, but more about their appearance than the streets they’re living on. Sin-Dee, the woman trying to find her man after getting out of jail is played by the kick-ass Kitana Kiki Rodriguez. She is feisty and strong, not wanting to back down from anything. Her style isn’t something I’d wear personally, but her no fear attitude in a place where she won’t receive love from anyone is a gorgeous reminder that as long as we love ourselves, we have the right to be whoever we want to be. Starring opposite her is the powerful Mya Taylor as Alexandra, a singer who is struggling to do that full time. Even though these women are very different, they both have similarities which draw them together, and even when things fell apart, they knew that they had each other. I just loved seeing two forceful and energetic women on my screen, instead of the classic stereotypes of having one of them be shy, or have an illness, or something rubbish. Why can’t we have more of this?

Seeing not one but two trans females heading this film is the beautiful breath of fresh air. I saw a short film recently (Trashy Booty) starring two trans women and it made me so excited for the future of representation in film. That short came out in 2020, and even though they’re slightly similar in style, it’s interesting to see Tangerine and its comments on transphobia and homophobia just 5 years prior. Even though it feels like nothing has changed, so much has, and it’s representation like this that keeps pushing it, allowing people, whoever they are, to be safe, seen and celebrated. I think this film is also a good conversation starter for people working in the sex industry. I don’t feel like the best person to talk about it, but this film really does push the boundaries, something I didn’t really personally see until 2019 film and TV releases. 

 

We start in a donut shop and think that it’ll end there too, but the journey of colours and lights really create this dream-like atmosphere. Even though I spotted a tangerine air freshener in the taxi, the film is called Tangerine due to the orange hues and colours. Seeing the bright west coast sun set was stunning, and something that you don’t really notice, yet is always there. These bright colours made the film feel like a crazy neon experience, but at the same time, it created this happy and content atmosphere. Both of these descriptions, I feel at times, work well to describe the film we’re seeing, but as the story fluctuates, it’s nice to always have familiarity with the sky over head and the colours flaring through the lens. From sight to sound, I loved the variety of music that played throughout. It struck me how important each track was to convey emotions and things changing. It’s definitely a soundtrack that has stood out for me, swaying between unexpected classical songs to dramatic rock and pop. 

Watching this film, I really felt main character vibes, and I know that’s an odd thing to say, but social media has been obsessed recently with the idea that we should all play the main character in our lives. My playlist is a mix of so much, and I have my phone in my back pocket ready to capture life as it plays out in front of me. If a day like the girl’s in Tangerine have is captured for us to see, surely my days are worth appreciating and experiencing to the full too. This film really has struck a chord with me, both in heavier topics like I mentioned, but most importantly leaving me with an inspiration to love the mundane and make the most of it. I guess I’d better find a donut shop that opens late near me.

LGBT+ History Month: Portrait of a Lady on Fire Film Review

It’s 1770, and an isolated island in Brittany becomes home to Marianne for a short while. She’s a painter, commissioned to do the wedding portrait of Héloïse, a reluctant bride to be. Marianne must paint her in secret, so she observes Héloïse each day.

 

When this film first came out, I never got the chance to see it and I can’t remember why. On a big screen, surrounded by darkness, this film would’ve been a great experience of love told in the most poetic way. However, I’ve had to watch it on a small screen in my bedroom, but the romance and heart is still very much there.

 

I loved this true mix of bright, open spaces, taking in all that the house and the scenery outside had to offer. It was light and welcoming, compared to the darkness and shadow of night, really emphasising the silhouettes of the characters. I guess it made them stand out against the blackness, but it often made them sink into it, disappearing away from their true emotions. Claire Mathon was the cinematographer on the project, winning multiple awards on its release, and I love her use of light and dark as well as framing. For me, it made it feel old, like we really were seeing the 1770s come to life. It was clean and crisp but in a way that didn’t make it feel modern and fake. Everything stayed very central, as if each frame is a study for a painting, allowing us to easily follow the action in a dreamy, buttery-esque way. It’s an easy watch for the eyes, only adding to the romance.

 

Noémie Merlant and Adèle Haenel star opposite each other as secret lovers and do such a brilliant job at capturing our hearts as well as their character’s, so much so that they were voted as Best Screen Couple in 2019 by the women Film Critics Circle. At times, I felt that the characters felt quite static, but then I had to remind myself that we’re seeing late eighteenth century, and it’s hard enough for people to reveal their true feelings now, let alone come out as liking the same sex back then. This forbidden affair follows the stereotype of period dramas, showing an aristocrat and lowly painter fall in love, but the intensity is heightened with the knowledge that both are women. Merlant and Haenel play what seem to be simple characters, but through great depth in their emotions and body language, we can learn about love and loss at the time when it’s set, but also the history of being gay and how you live life coping with hiding it. It’s the definition of bittersweet. Would you want to live your life in hiding if it meant you could only spend a few Summer weeks with someone you dearly love?

 

Written and directed by Céline Sciamma, I adore her delicate nature with approaching a love like this. Sex isn’t thrust at our screen, instead, we have respect for the female body and mind. This allows us into the relationship in a way that doesn’t glorify the naked body for views, but for art and intimacy. Sciamma won best screenplay for the film at Cannes in 2019, and has won many others since, truly letting us know that this film is loved and appreciated. Every now and then, a wild card film like this stands out against the multi-million budget blockbusters, and I am so pleased that this film has grabbed the heart of so many.

 

Beginning in a painter’s studio and ending in a theatre, we see art in all that this film has to offer. After finally seeing it, I fully know why it’s loved and highly awarded just as it deserves. It’s full of marvellous joy, but also great sadness, and every element of the production is something to drool over.

 

28.

 

(also, just the fact that they both never forgot about each other and communicated in ways that they’d hope the other would see but would also possibly be discarded or forgotten, I don’t know if my heart is full or broken?!?! Shoutout to the wonderfully talented Hélène Delmaire for her paintings!!! I feel like I have so much to say but I don’t know how haha)

 

LGBT+ History Month: All In My Family Film Documentary Review

All In My Family is a Netflix documentary, directed by and following the life of Hao Wu. He is gay and has chosen with his partner to have children via surrogates, but this is far from his traditional Chinese families understanding and acceptance.

With sweet, Pixar-like music and scenes of fun family meetings and dinners, this film appears quite happy and loving, however I had to stop myself laughing at times, realising that this isn’t a comedy, yet someone’s bittersweet life. I’m sure if you’ve seen it, you will have felt the same, finding comments from the older generation quite comical at times, yet world-shattering to the person sat behind the camera.

 

Flicking between New York, a place where you can express yourself without worry, and China, where elders and tradition are the most important things, we can begin to understand Hao’s thoughts and feelings towards both of these places. Sure, one is easier to live in, to be who you truly are without hiding, but the other is a true home as family is there. When people do come out, however their family reacts, it can be difficult to know what to do next. Should you stay in a place that makes you feel like you can’t be true to yourself, or should you move away but leave the people who do care about you? Families have funny ways of showing things, and I think that this documentary is a lovely reminder that not everyone agrees with everything we do, but if people love you, they will eventually come around.

 

A big discussion I see online is whether we should allow the older generation to keep their out-of-date opinions, or if we can get angry at them and call them out. TOTALLY different, but in a film called The Mule, Clint Eastwood’s character goes to help some black people who have broken down on the side of the road, however, calls them an old, rude slur name when addressing them, not meaning any harm by it. I don’t want to defend him, but if he has grown up in a world seeing this as the right word, and no one has called him out, how can he know it’s wrong? Similar with this film, if Chinese people grow up living a certain way, of course it’ll be strange and confusing for someone to present a different way of life to you. For me, I can accept my grandparents or the older generation saying something rude once, as I’ll then kindly tell them how times have changed and what’s been said is unacceptable, as I don’t think it’s fair to be angry and shout if they genuinely do not know. But if they continue with this, it makes me wonder if they’re doing it just because that’s what they’re used to, or to be rude and complicated to make fun of the “snowflake” generation. I love how this film allows the parents to have their opinion heard, but also the chance to grow and learn about how the world works now as opposed to then. We all react differently too, some people having no leeway in people saying something wrong, whereas others have to have patience because they’ll lose the people around them without it. Hao was able to keep composure at all times, even when his family were being quite rude with their feelings towards him and his choices, which just adds to the heart-breaking feelings that this film wants us to see.

 

This homegrown film really is something fresh. Even though it felt professional and clean cut, it was really great to see people being interviewed in their homes and in their native language. It made it feel cosy and easy to settle down into watching, just like the people would’ve felt talking in the natural situations. But it also added to the fact that so many people feel like they lose home, or even themselves after coming out, even if they are in familiar surroundings. Simple yet effective, I’m so glad that Hoa had the courage to share his story with both his family and the world, as I know that I appreciate it, so I’m sure every other watcher does too.

 

The film starts with photos being taken of Hao’s family, as he states that he doesn’t even know who a lot of the people are. Mirroring that, the film ends with photos being taken of his new family, I guess to keep up with family tradition, but also to symbolise that it’s ok for people to drop out of your life whether you share blood or not. What’s important now is holding onto the people around him who love him for who he is and making sure that his children grow up knowing these family members.

LGBT+ History Month: The Queen Documentary Review

It’s 1967 and New York City is host to the Miss All-American Camp Beauty Pageant, being run by Jack/Drag Queen Flawless Sabrina. 

I’ve always been intrigued by drag queens. Their character, their style, the way they don’t let the world stop them from being the royalty they are, to me, truly makes them wonderfully interesting people. Admiring them from afar, I’ve never been to drag shows or watched the popular show Drag Race, and I don’t really have a reason. Maybe watching this documentary will push me to dive more into the sparkling world.

 

The cameras follow a group of drag queens as they prepare for competition, all headed by Jack who becomes Sabrina in this wonderful universe. I found it really interesting to have this sneak peek into their lives as we saw them in casual outfits, without hair and makeup done, dancing and singing. Nowadays, I feel that drag queens don’t want to give away the mystery of their other personality, so we often see them as the queen and no one else. It was truly beautiful to be allowed to see so much more uncovered, unapologetic and open, full of love and acceptance. 

 

When I was choosing films for this event, I really wanted a wide selection of people shown on our screens, but it wasn’t until I saw this that I realised we needed to see films from all times too. Being shot in 1967, and released a year later, we know that being outwardly gay isn’t always easy nowadays, so it’s so tough to imagine how it was back then. Male homosexuality was illegal, the Sexual Offences act made it difficult for people to be who they were. Researching into it more is completely heart-breaking, learning that the men on my screen are happy with life, but are being torn down too. Vulnerable, sat together in a New York hotel room, they tell their stories so casually, knowing that most of society won’t fully accept their life and choices, even though they can’t do anything to change it.

 

Directed by Frank Simon, and with his small camera team, we are given what feels like a secretive glimpse into the drag world, even though we know we are welcome. The closeups make every person in the room feel exposed, adding to what I previously mentioned. I guess it’s the style of the time, filling the frame with richness, but as a modern-day viewer, I appreciate the time taken to capture absolutely everything. I love a good documentary, but I often find new releases to feel too crisp and clean. Sure, they add a gritty edge, but they don’t have the same energy as this production.

 

Narrated by Flawless Sabrina, a moment that stands out for me if when one of the queens doesn’t have a wig for the competition and Sabrina says something like: sending him out there without a wig is like sending him out there without his head. To some everyday people, even the idea of girls wearing makeup is a terrible thought, so I wonder what their thoughts would be on the art and skill that goes into becoming a drag queen? Seeing the bright lights, beautiful costumes and flawless makeup, I watch in awe, wanting the same feeling, yet knowing how tough the backlash must be wants me to do something to protect these people from the hate.

 

This candid, time capsule-esque documentary really is a piece of beauty, offering us a glimpse into an addictive world.

The film is available to watch on Netflix. This review is part of my 2021 LGBT+ History Month event, and you can check out my other reviews here on my blog, or see more on my Instagram: anna.create

LGBT+ History Month: Alaska is a Drag Film Review

An aspiring drag superstar is stuck working in a cannery in Alaska. When a boxing coach sees his potential, he has to face the real reason he is stuck in Alaska. 

One of my favourite stage shows that I’ve ever seen is Everybody’s Talking About Jamie. I just loved how fun and real it was and was over the moon when I heard that they were turning it into a film. To fill the void until then, I was pleasantly surprised to see this independent film jump out at me as I was scrolling through Netflix. I don’t want to compare the two, but I’m going into this with a love of something similar, so just know that I really enjoyed this too.

 

With dreams of being an international superstar, Leo (played by Martin L. Washington Jr in his film debut) skips around his small town aware that not everyone agrees with who he is, but not letting them change him. Flamboyant and unable to choose between boxing or drag, Leo’s story is an interesting one. I loved how it wasn’t typical in his family disowning him (although leaving in a different way is a large part of the backstory) or some other stereotype. Instead, it was something different, which really kept me guessing throughout how Leo would end up and who he’d choose to become. Often with his sort of story you can assume where the characters will end up, but with Alaska is a Drag, I really could just sit back and enjoy, letting the characters tell the story for me.

 

Starring opposite Martin is Maya Washington as Tristen, Leo’s super supportive sister who is dealing with illness. I subscribe to Maya’s YouTube channel and couldn’t believe it when I finally recognised her. The pair really make a wonderful sibling duo, showing us how brothers and sisters should be written. The journey they go on is something of beauty, but it doesn’t start like that. The writer wants us to know that even though life can feel fabulous, it can often fill us with fear. Tristen says, “Do you want me to pick you up after work for protection?” so casually in the first few sentences that from the start, we know that everything isn’t fine and dandy. It’s awful to think that people grow up, scared to be alone because of what others may think and do to them because of that.

 

Written and directed by Shaz Bennett, you can tell how important this story is to everyone involved, truly wanting to get across that people can be gay, but that isn’t everything they have to give to the world. Her film was described as ‘one to watch’ by Vogue, OUT Magazine and more, and you can really see why. Each line is so real and fluid in how they pass between the characters and come to life when they’re said. 

 

The editing and style struck me as delicate yet gritty. Walking through fields causes hundreds of dandelions to fly through the air, whilst on the other side of the building wall is a grey concrete gym. We see this glittery world through flashbacks and sudden daydreams, but all of that stops as soon as a bully wants to punch, or the truth of their mother leaving hits them harder. It just added to this feeling that dreams can come true, but we all start in what feels like a dead-end place. Whether it’s our location, family, or something else, everyone has something stopping them, but to see past that and push on is what makes our wishes become our reality.

 

Down to earth and inspiring, Alaska is a Drag has left me with a smile on my face. Not everyone we meet in life will like us, but as long as we hold onto and support the ones that do, life can be good.

The film is available to watch on Netflix. This review is part of my 2021 LGBT+ History Month event, and you can check out my other reviews here on my blog, or see more on my Instagram: anna.create