BIG BOYS - BFI Flare Film Festival review

Away for the weekend on a camping trip with his older cousin Allie, awkward teenager Jamie grows increasingly infatuated with Allie's cool boyfriend Dan. But dealing with peer pressure, body positivity issues and with his feelings towards Dan becoming more and more apparent, Jamie must hide his true self from the rest of the group.

For the benefit of UK readers, the big screen Big Boys has nothing to do with the identically named Channel 4 TV show from last year based on the life of writer Jack Rooke, despite them both sharing a queer rites of passage narrative. With their similarities not extending much further than that and skewing more much towards drama than comedy, writer/director Corey Sherman's Big Boys is instead a sweet coming of age story set over the course of a camping trip where 14 year old Jamie (Isaac Krasner) starts to understand more about his sexuality and how he's perceived by others. As a heavy-set kid obsessed with food and cooking for other people, he puts forward a friendly, jovial, dare I say it, "jolly" persona, despite his mind spinning with teenage angst and turmoil internally. He's polite and accommodating to a fault, even when pushed into awkward situations by obnoxious teenager Will (Taj Cross) who's joined them on their trip and dead set of using Jamie as a pawn in his pursuit of some local girls.

With his cousin Allie's (Dora Madison) boyfriend Dan (David Johnson III) also being a larger person, there's an instant unspoken bond between him and Jamie, with Allie pushing Dan forward as a positive male role model that may help Jamie overcome some of his confidence issues. What's not instantly clear is that as well as him idolising Dan for his more masculine traits, he's quickly developed a romantic crush on him too, with Jamie imagining through fantasy sequences how different things will be (might be/could be) for him when he's older. In the film's boldest move, these fantasies re-cast Jamie with grown-up actor Jack de Sanz, allowing Big Boys to deftly (and crucially, unproblematically) cross the boundary into the hazy, uncanny space where Jamie can process his feelings for Dan and imagine a possible future together.

In what could have easily been a crass, cringe inducing comedy of teenage awkwardness, writer/director Corey Sherman deserves praise for offering such a nuanced, warm account of teenage trials and tribulations. The film is never poking fun at Jamie when he does something to cause himself embarrassment, although there's undoubtedly moments that audiences may find relatable opportunities to laugh at their own stories and pasts, so universal is that feeling of unrequited love and social angst. Jamie may want to skip over his teenage years to be an adult, be seen as one of them and able to live his life as he wishes, but in truth he knows he's a long way away from that level of maturity, and that his crush is unlikely to lead to anything but heartache. We've all been there, right?

With his character being in almost every frame of the film, Isaac Krasner offers a truly relatable, compassionate performance as Jamie. For such a young actor, he nails the moments where nothing needs to be said in anything but a look, providing his character with a real depth that speaks volumes. Likewise, David Johnson III as Dan, ably walks that treacherous line of being caring and thoughtful towards the limpet-like Jamie, fully aware and accepting of his hero status in Jamie's eyes, but without understanding everything that's going on in his mind. However, it's when he's finally given a better understanding of Jamie's motivations that we get to see the full extent of Dan's positive character traits and Johnson's capability in the role.

Asking relevant questions about modern masculinity and teenage heartache through a queer lens, Big Boys is an occasionally painful but wholly relatable delight that's like being wrapped up in the warm hug of a sleeping bag after a long day camping.

Verdict

4/5

Big Boys screened as part of this year's BFI Flare Film Festival. More information about the festival can be found here.

EGGHEAD AND TWINKIE - BFI Flare Film Festival review

At the start of the summer before he heads off to college, lovestruck Egghead (Louis Tomeo) decides to tell his best friend Twinkie (Sabrina Jie-A-Fa) how he really feels about her. The only problem is the relationship is definitively platonic from her point of view, and she's not told Egghead that she's gay and in love with a DJ she met online. When animator Twinkie sees an opportunity to visit her wannabe lover in Texas under the ruse of visiting an animation studio, she steals her dad's car and ropes the unwitting Egghead into making the long journey with her.

Based on her 2019 short film of the same name and re-uniting all of the same key cast members, Sarah Kambe Holland's debut feature delivers a fun spin on some tried and tested teen movie staples. Sharing a basic plot outline with Rob Reiner's under-appreciated 1985 John Cusack-starring road trip comedy, The Sure Thing (an at odds pair head out on the road with one of them given the promise of romance and/or sex at the final destination; they encounter vehicular trouble and comedy ensues), Egghead and Twinkie find their friendship put to the test when things inevitably start to go awry for them on their journey, although at least here there's little chance of romance suddenly blossoming between them. Spoiler alert, there's no last minute changes of sexual preference from Twinkie.

Where the film does veer off course from the expected norm is in the consideration of Twinkie's status as a young Asian-American woman with no links to her heritage. Adopted by her ultra-conservative white parents with an unspoken pre-requisite to conform in every way she can, Vivian aka Twinkie (her nickname itself a co-opted racial insult implying she's "yellow on the outside, white on the inside") needs to explore her Asian identity as well as her sexuality, and neither her parents or her supportive best friend Egghead can offer help with either. She's not just running towards her potential future as an out and proud lesbian, but also away from the confines her home life have put on her. Enter sweet Japanese waitress Jess (Asahi Hirano) who finds herself thrown into the middle of Twinkie's quest, and is more than willing to help guide her to a place where she's more comfortable with herself.

Mixing animation with live action, Egghead and Twinkie offers some cute Scott Pilgrim-esque cutaways to brighten up what is already a very cheerful, teen-friendly rainbow-coloured palette. Its unavoidable sweetness means the story is barely stretched in dramatic terms, with Twinkie's potential paramour B.D. (social media star Ayden Lee) offering the only glimmer of a more complex view of modern relationships, rendering the film relatively chaste and more focussed on finding something deep and meaningful... love. Told partly through flashbacks (including Egghead's disastrous movie theatre declaration of his true feelings for Twinkie), it may be blindingly obvious as the story progresses where we're going to end up, but the cast are all extremely likeable, the dynamics between them (in particular Jie-A-Fa and Hirano) work very well, and the film's more farcical elements are delivered with good comedic effect.

A modern, queer addition to the teen comedy genre, Egghead and Twinkie might not win awards for originality, but it's colourful, vibrant and super sweet, with solid chemistry between the leads.

Verdict

3.5/5

Egghead and Twinkie screened as part of this year's BFI Flare Film Festival. More information about the festival and its line-up can be found here.

COP SECRET - BFI Flare Film Festival review

Going to extreme measures to protect the mean streets of Reykjavik, no nonsense cop Bússi (Auðunn Blöndal) is known as the toughest cop around. But when a merging of departments sees him given a new partner in the form of Bess (Egill Einarsson), a sharp suited detective also known for getting results, the two must work together to solve a madman's plot to blow up the city's stadium whilst Bússi also confronts the new feelings he has when he's around Bess.

Kicking off with an all-action car chase across Reykjavik, we're introduced to the Jason Statham-alike Bússi, (all shaved head and leather jacket) a gruff, manly cop who's not keen on being paired up with the well groomed Bess, a pansexual detective who's going to challenge Bússi to the title of best cop around. Paired together to solve a plot to blow up Reykjavik's stadium during the Iceland v England Women's World Cup, they find themselves quickly falling for each other.

The mismatched duo forced to work together until they find common ground is a long standing cliche in Hollywood, particularly with cop movies starring big, bald actors about renegade detectives who don't play by the rules. Such is the height of hyper-masculinity in action movies that it's surprising it's taken this long for someone to take the next logical step, converting that homo-eroticism into a full blown romance between its two leading men. With a wry comedic set up backing up the all action premise, surely it's a formula that can't fail? Sadly, Cop Secret, despite its best efforts, is not the success it should have been. There's things to enjoy in its appreciation of action movies, from its ridiculous villain, Rikki Ferrari (inexplicably, but enjoyably, the only character who speaks English language at all times), angry shouty police chiefs, to adhering to the classic buddy comedy formula, albeit with the obvious twist thrown in.

But in sticking so close to a formula the story feels far too generic, taking inspiration from bad cop movies but not turning those ideas into something more exciting. For want of a better term, Cop Secret plays it straight-faced, but when skewering the action genre cliches, the likes of Edgar Wright's Hot Fuzz and Shane Black's Kiss Kiss Bang Bang did it better. Let's be clear that Cop Secret isn't actively trying to compete with the likes of Vin Diesel, Jason Statham and The Rock, with some ropey digital explosions showing the budgetary limitations. But it is offering a commentary on Hollywood's action genre cinema, including its aversion to including anything openly queer within its narrative, and has some success with that. There's nothing scandalous or inappropriate about the central love affair, and it's there the film does break some new ground.

Directed by Hannes Halldórsson, an Icelandic goalkeeper turned filmmaker - and written by Halldórsson and his two leading men - it's a genre experiment that you find yourself willing to be better, so close it is to striking gold by mixing up the action genre formulas. Sadly, the end result doesn't quite work as a spoof, satire or straight-up action flick.

Verdict

2.5/5

Cop Secret screened as part of this year's BFI Flare Film Festival. More information about the festival and the films included can be found here.

BOY MEETS BOY review

In Berlin for a weekend break, junior doctor Harry (Matthew James Morrison) meets dancer Johannes (Alexandros Koutsoulis) in a club, just as his weekend of dancing and casual sexual encounters is coming to an end. With hours left before his flight home, Johannes agrees to show Harry the sights of Berlin as the two men open up to each other about their lives, loves and relationships.

Owing a huge debt to Richard Linklater's Before Sunrise, Boy Meets Boy follows the two young potential lovers as they breathe in the atmosphere of the city, debating everything from the benefits of finding sex on Grindr and Tinder to whether Eurovision is "gay revenge for the World Cup" as they bicker and build a real connection that neither are used to experiencing. Harry, an aimless doctor looking for his calling in life, has become accustomed to finding brief fulfilment via casual sex he has through dating apps, conditioning himself so far into the lifestyle that he never wants to have sex with the same person more than once, whereas Johannes believes in the power of forming a bond with another in a traditional relationship, albeit one that may come with caveats to a partner's behaviour.

I'm a sucker for a decent film set over the course of one day in a beautiful city, and this vibrant, talky, unabashedly frank romance doesn't disappoint. The topics they cover are at once insignificant and hugely important, allowing both of the lead characters to get the measure of the man opposite them whilst contemplating whether this connection could lead to more than their limited time together might allow. Directed and co-written (along with Hannah Renton) by Daniel Sanchez Lopez, the two, often opposing, viewpoints of the young men adds a real spark to their day together, with their cynicism and prejudices laid bare to reveal how they both think they should be navigating their way through this world of modern queer relationships. Both Morrison and Koutsoulis impress in their roles and have fantastic, exhilarating chemistry with each other throughout in a Berlin that positively glows, leading to some gorgeously romantic, cliche-defying scenes as they enjoy the prospect of a dance by the river and give in to their impulses.

A film that is hopeful in its outlook but that doesn't ignore the harsh realities of modern love, sex and relationships, Boy Meets Boy is a frank, often bittersweet and emotionally raw film that also bathes in the unavoidable romantic splendour of its sunny locale. The Linklater comparisons may be inevitable and justified, but equally, this is a brief encounter I'd be happy to see more of in the future.

Verdict

4/5

Boy Meets Boy is now available to buy on DVD and digital, and also at the peccapics website.

AIDS DIVA: THE LEGEND OF CONNIE NORMAN - BFI Flare Film Festival 2021 review

Telling the story of Connie Norman, the HIV-positive, transgender former sex-worker who became a leading voice in ACT UP's political activism to fight the AIDS epidemic in the late 80s, director Dante Alencastre's AIDS Diva hopes to acknowledge the contribution this forgotten figurehead had to the movement and establish her legacy for a new generation.

Connie lead quite the remarkable life, having once worked as a drag queen in San Francisco before turning tricks and doing time in prison, then transitioning and becoming one of the most visible (and vocal) transgender people of the era through her work with the direct action group ACT UP/LA upon the outbreak of AIDS. Leading marches and making powerful statements from the podium about the "genocidal neglect of Reagan and Bush", she gained a level of notoriety that lead to appearances on radio and TV as a reliably opinionated firebrand. As a transgender woman, this step into the forefront of political activism was something Connie was hesitant to do at first, having faced negativity towards her trans status from some areas of the gay community and within AIDS activism, but following her own diagnosis of HIV-positive in 1987 she felt she needed to be a part of the fight.

A natural leader who people listened to, the way Connie is portrayed in the wealth of archive video footage that's in AIDS Diva - of week long vigils outside hospitals demanding more beds for patients and marching on the streets - could be used as a guide on how to become an activist. At a time where we have hoards of people campaigning across the world over social, racial and healthcare issues, AIDS Diva is incredibly timely in its portrayal of how to make change through the power of making your collective voice heard. Although Norman passed away many years ago, there's plenty of her contemporaries eager to offer anecdotes of the ferocious nature of Connie, and help tell her story in the early years of the HIV/AIDS crisis, along with more personal expressions from her "Tribal Writes" newspaper column.

Within the footage of Connie is her appearances on right-wing "moral panic" lead talk shows like Wally George, knowing her presence would push a few buttons in the audience but also hopefully nudge a few people in the right direction. There's a great term Connie uses during an interview, talking about "GOB-ism", referring to the small minded "Good Ol' Boys" she had to deal with growing up as a queer kid in Texas, who she now saw as the same people running the country and neglecting some of its citizens. Although some things might have changed recently in the leadership of America, it's hard not to wonder how Connie would have reacted to the upheaval of the Trump era and the health crisis brought on by the pandemic.

What will also resonate for a modern audience is Connie's evolving definition of gender, describing it in 1993 as a "fluid spectrum". This film serves as a snapshot of a less sympathetic time for the trans community (talking heads using terms like nelly and sissy), when transgender women were forced to come off medication and either present as their assigned at birth gender in order to receive treatment for AIDS or hide themselves from the public. That's why having Connie's voice was such an important one to include in the fight against AIDS, and this film should allow a new generation to appreciate her contribution to the cause.

With an acknowledgement that they weren't just fighting for themselves but for future generations, AIDS Diva: The Legend of Connie Norman is a document of a time of fear and change, and a compelling, powerful account of political activism at work.

Verdict

4/5

AIDS DIVA: The Legend of Connie Norman is screening as part of the BFI Flare LGBTIQ+ Film Festival. The full line-up can be found on the BFI Player here.

JUMP, DARLING - BFI Flare Film Festival 2021 review

Starring the legendary Cloris Leachman in her final role, Jump, Darling follows drag queen Russell, AKA Fishy Falters (Thomas Duplessie), who after splitting up with his boyfriend, decides to go and stay with his ageing grandmother, Margaret (Leachman). As Russell adapts to the pace of small town life and finds a possible new love connection at a local bar, it becomes increasingly obvious that his elderly grandmother, suffering from memory issues and unable to bathe herself, may need him to stick around for a while longer.

Originally planning on just stopping by to collect his deceased grandfather's car that Margaret has promised to her grandson, upon seeing how frail she is and also in need of some recovery time for himself, Russell moves in with Margaret whilst he plans his next move. Finding a local gay bar that he can inject some of his glamour into, Russell introduces the locals to his drag alter ego, Fishy Falters, drawing the attention of barman Zach (Kwaku Adu-Poku) and the possibility of a new romance. As Russell focuses on his career prospects, his mother Ene (Linda Kash) arrives on the scene, surprised to find that her son has moved his wigs, make-up and mirrors into his grandmother's attic and is selling some of her belongings to finance himself.

A mixture of traditional family drama with the vibrant possibilities of the world of drag, the absolute gem that Jump, Darling has is the presence of Cloris Leachman. Leachman, who won an Oscar 50 years ago for her role in The Last Picture Show but then sadly passed away this January at the age of 94, is noticeably frail but still on fine form here, and the interactions she has with Duplessie - of which more would have been welcome - are the understated beating heart of the film. Russell's re-integration into Margaret's life lies somewhere between him caring for and taking advantage of her, and the narrative works to find the wavering balance between his self-serving nature and sense of familial duty. This is something Margaret is seemingly aware of, but as long as she gets to stay in her house, she's happy. An expansion of this conflict could have lead to a stronger dramatic arc, particularly after the introduction of Russell's mother who cannot devote herself to caring for her mother and sees putting her into a care home as the only option.

Instead, the main narrative drive of Jump, Darling is Russell's reckoning with his status as a performer. Once with high hopes to be a successful dramatic actor (he bumps into an old school friend who recalls the expectation he was going to become "the next Andrew Garfield"), his career has instead lead him to drag, something his businessman ex-boyfriend snobbishly dismisses as"gay, variety show shit". But despite their jibes, Russell (and Duplessie) is clearly having fun performing as Fishy Falters, and some of the stand-out scenes are those where he performs lip-syncs at the local bar, including a fantastic 'kiss off' to a once potential suitor who reveals things Russell wasn't expecting.

Although certainly not a deep dive into the art of drag - that has, barring a couple of book-ending nightclub scenes Fishy as the only performer we follow - Jump, Darling convincingly sells us on why Russell has chosen this method of self-expression, within it finding a stronger connection to his grandmother who once had dreams in her youth of being an elegant ice skater. Some plot threads and characters are underdeveloped - the love story with barman Zach promises more than it delivers - but when Jump, Darling puts its focus on the cross-generational connection between Russell and Margaret, it works as a subtle, thoughtful drama, and as a tender farewell to the talents of Cloris Leachman.

Verdict

3/5

Jump, Darling is screening as part of the BFI Flare LGBTIQ+ Film Festival. The full line-up can be found on the BFI Player here.

SWEETHEART - BFI Flare Film Festival 2021 review

Dragged on a seaside family holiday against her will, mardy 17 year old AJ (Nell Barlow) is determined to have a terrible time until she meets Isla (Ella-Rae Smith), a beautiful lifeguard at the park and the girl of her dreams. Seeing her burgeoning friendship with Isla as an opportunity to re-invent herself and spend as much time away from her family as possible, AJ parties with the young staff of the holiday park, starts to have fun and just maybe falls in love.

Much like the understated humour of last year's Days of the Bagnold Summer, coupled with AJ's dry voice-over that brings to mind Richard Ayoade's Submarine, Sweetheart, writer/director Marley Morrison's debut feature, is a well-observed teen drama with so many lovely family details that make it seem oh so relatable to anyone who's holidayed with family under protest. AJ's mother Tina (This is England's Jo Hartley, on fantastic form) is the kind of woman who point blank refuses to call her daughter anything but the name she gave her, April (in fact, the whole family do apart from her pregnant sister's supportive partner, Steve); who says "ooh, cows" when passing a field in the vain attempt to muster some enthusiasm from her teenage daughter, and who takes her washing on holiday because the machine at home has stopped working. Despite her constant battles with AJ/April, Tina never feels like the villain, and as the story progresses and we learn more about why AJ's father wasn't asked to join them, she becomes an increasingly likeable character.

But it's completely Nell Barlow's film from start to finish. Dressed like Liam Gallagher in a bucket hat and tinted shades (Sweetheart feels so much like a throwback to the 90s that it could well have been set then), her AJ is an introvert who's exploring her sexual identity - and possibly her gender identity too - almost afraid to reveal how smart she is to the kids at the caravan park, worried - a la Lisa Simpson in the Summer of 4 ft 2 - that signs of her intelligence will be a turn off. Instead it draws in the ray of summer sunshine that is Isla, a free-spirited young woman who's able to guide the sullen AJ into realising how cool they actually are and encourage her to be herself. Their scenes together have the desired flush of teen holiday romance, albeit with the backdrop of a drab, mundane English caravan park to them.

With a fun, sprightly teen pop soundtrack and a couple of knowing nods to Dirty Dancing (inevitable, really), Sweetheart is a fun holiday romance that anyone who was ever an awkward teenager will find cringingly familiar. 

Verdict

3.5/5

Sweetheart is screening as part of the BFI Flare LGBTIQ+ Film Festival. The full line-up can be found on the BFI Player here.

MY FIRST SUMMER - BFI Flare Film Festival 2021 review

Raised in isolation away from the world, when 16 year old Claudia's mother unexpectedly passes away, she must rely on the help of local teen Grace to remain a secret. Hiding from the authorities at her idyllic, remote house, the innocent Claudia (Markella Kavenagh) and savvy Grace (Maiah Stewardson) form a close bond as they enjoy a summer filled with sunshine and feelings of first love.

Written and directed by Katie Found, My First Summer is an unashamedly bright and delightfully whimsical Aussie teen romance between two girls who find safety and calm in the presence of the other. With Claudia shielded from the horrors and delights the outside world has to offer, it falls to Grace to school her on her own experience of life as a teenage girl, longing to escape from her family home. Together at Claudia's house, they can indulge all of their dreams of a never-ending summer as they tentatively explore their feelings for each other.

With some gorgeous cinematography by Matthew Chuang, it's a delightful world to inhabit for the film's 80 minute runtime - all Australian sunsets and magic hour sunlight breaking through the trees. There's an element of fantasy in the set up (this dream house in the middle of nowhere is almost too perfect), like a long-loved memory of youth, but the film avoids the pitfall of overplaying the connection between Claudia and Grace, which feels genuine and heartfelt, even when the film goes heavy on cutesy iconography like charm bracelets, candy necklaces and lollipop rings. Kavenagh impresses as the (gradually less) insular Claudia, but it's Stewardson who steals the show in a role that could have appeared smart-alecky in the wrong hands, outfoxing the local police in order to protect Claudia. The interplay between the two leads seems natural and honest, and they share a number of tender, sweetly romantic scenes that make you wish nothing will arrive to disturb their world together.

Like a bedsheet drying on a clothes line in a summer breeze, My First Summer sweeps you up and carries you away to their world of youthful innocence, exploration, and naivety about how long their time together can actually last. It's the stuff of teen romance dreams, like a warm, sunny picnic filled with pure summertime love. Utterly captivating.

Verdict

4/5

My First Summer is screening as part of the BFI Flare LGBTIQ+ Film Festival. The full line-up can be found on the BFI Player here.

NO ORDINARY MAN - BFI Flare Film Festival 2021 review

Through interviews with his son and members of today's trans community, this new documentary tells the remarkable story of Billy Tipton, a successful jazz musician in the 1930s who released a number of albums, raised a family and was then revealed to the world to be a trans man after his death.

The story of Billy Tipton is so incredible that he has become a trans icon, namely for his ability to forge a successful music career that spanned decades without anyone knowing of his trans status until his death in 1989. In a tale of revelation that has now become the stuff of legend - and that also served as tabloid fodder in the years after - when Billy died at the age of 74 in his adopted son Billy Jr's arms, it was the attending EMT who alerted the family to the truth whilst trying to resuscitate him. With no footage and only a handful of photos available of Billy's early days on the jazz club circuit, in order to fill in moments from his life directors Aisling Chin-Yee and Chase Joynt and co-writer Amos Mac incorporate a series of auditions from trans actors to play the part of Billy Tipton for the film.

Working from what information is available and with the involvement of Billy Jr, No Ordinary Man is a respectful telling of Billy Snr's story that acknowledges that due to the great efforts he went to to keep his "secret", the story of his gender identity is one that he most likely never wanted revealing. However, as is shown via the shock tabloid headlines, clips from 90s talk shows (with hard to watch, horrifically outdated opinions and weaponised misgendering on them) and excerpts from the biography sanctioned by ex-wife Kitty that couldn't believe she was unaware of the truth and that hung on the idea Billy was only posing as a man to further his music career, once the story was out, there was no way of putting the genie back in the bottle. It's not the intention of No Ordinary Man to mimic this salacious, shock factor style of storytelling, but instead to use Billy's story as a jumping off point to tell the wider story of transgender/trans-masculine people, with numerous well-educated talking heads from members of the trans community that confront the general public's fascination with trans stories and the notion that trans-people are "liars", trying to trick them.

Analysing the misguided presumption that trans-people are putting on a performance, the inclusion of the auditions is fascinating, allowing a group of male trans actors (there is no limitations put on age or race) to embody Billy whilst also dissecting the scenes from their own point of view. It's these different voices that bring Billy to life on screen, linked by their own experiences of life as trans men to offer a possible glimpse of why Billy chose to never reveal that side of their life to those closest to him. With no historical record, it's a bold inclusion to use dramatic scenes based on interactions Billy might have had, but in the context of the film it works in giving Billy more of a dialogue in his own story, albeit scripted.

In the assembled interviews there's a huge amount of important contributions from voices such as actor Marquise Vilson (who also appeared in last year's Flare favourite, Disclosure), Stephan Pennington, Susan Stryker and Zackary Drucker, but in order to tell Billy's story the film knows that its key interviewee is Billy Jr, who is visited in his home to tell recollections of his father and how his life has been impacted since. Notably, Billy's two other adopted sons do not appear, going as far as having their faces blurred out of old photographs, having reacted negatively to the notoriety their father inadvertently brought them in his death. But Billy Jr is an engaging presence, largely unaware of how important his father is to the trans community.

The details of Billy Tipton's life shouldn't need to be told but also shouldn't be erased, and the educational and entertaining No Ordinary Man provides its audience with a way to engage with his legend and be respectful of the privacy of a group of often maligned and misjudged people. Despite the unavoidable shock value of his death, Chin-Yee and Joynt's film goes some way to tell why Billy's story is so important to the trans community, and make sure his legacy is a positive one.

Verdict

4/5

No Ordinary Man is screening as part of the BFI Flare LGBTIQ+ Film Festival. The full line-up can be found on the BFI Player here.

DRAMARAMA - BFI Flare Film Festival 2021 review

In a typical middle-American town in 1994, a group of drama group friends unite for one last time to throw a costumed murder mystery party before they all leave for college. They each have their own fears about what the future might hold for them, but Gene (Nick Pugliese) is also wrestling with telling his life-long friends about his sexuality, afraid of how they will react. As the night progresses and loyalties among the group are tested, they all start to realise that in one way or another, they're all putting on a show.

As the characters all arrive at the parent-free house of Rose (Anna Grace Barlow) before she flies off for college the next day, they enter a safe space, a world of their creation where they are able to be vivacious show-offs who sing, dance and perform skits with one another, and where they can flex their theatrical muscles. Each in costume as a Victorian literary great (Sherlock Holmes, Alice in Wonderland, Ms Havisham, Mina Harker and Dr. Jekyll - or as close an approximation as they can get), there's no judgement from outside of their group of friends, allowing them to be as dorky as they want to be. This changes on the arrival of JD (Zak Henri), the whipsmart pizza delivery boy who encroaches on their space long enough to critique their costume choices and shake up the mood of the party by inviting Gene to a cooler gathering later on that evening.

At the outset of Jonathan Wysocki's coming of age comedy, I'll admit to worrying that I was going to find some - if not all - of the main characters insufferable in the way overly-earnest actor types can be, but to the credit of the core ensemble cast (Pugliese, Barlow, Nico Greetham, Megan Suri, Danielle Kay), as the film progressed and their "act" started to slip away, I warmed to each character as they revealed personal truths about themselves via the playful dares and challenges they set for each other. I have to say, I wasn't familiar with the game "Flashlight Homosexual" before, but it feels accurately like something a group of sexually repressed teenagers would have played at a house party in the 90s. Even for non-theatre types, there's a lot in the film to find relatable on a teen movie level. We've all been at that age where the future is a great unknown, and I'm sure can freely admit that as you're trying to work out who you really are there's an act that is put on to protect the stability of those friendships you've held for a long time.

This is revealed most accurately in Gene's story. Realising he is gay, but without the confidence or knowledge of how to say this to his best friends, he talks around the subject in code during their conversations, telling the religious Claire (Suri) he is now "agnostic" but without stating what has tested his faith; and having a heart to heart with closest friend Oscar about how he's been counselling a "colleague at work" who is gay, to gauge his opinion on it. Looking at it with 2021 eyes, it might seem a bit of a stretch that Gene's friends wouldn't put two and two together or entertain the possibility that one of their theatre group friends might be homosexual (with the possible exception of Ally, the cool, street smart girl of the group in a role that you could see Natasha Lyonne occupying two decades ago) but Dramarama succeeds in selling a real, non-pastiche version of 1994 to us with retro fashion & hairstyles and by having not one, but two They Might Be Giants songs on the soundtrack. It's a sweeter, more innocent time, albeit with conservative religious rhetoric ringing in the ears of young people. 

As Gene questions and tests his loyalty to those around him, Dramarama ticks a number of teen movie cliches on the way towards its satisfying finale, but it's a sincere, warmly nostalgic comedy-drama about the value of friendships, and having people you can truly be yourself with.

Verdict

3/5

Dramarama is screening as part of the BFI Flare LGBTIQ+ Film Festival. The full line-up can be found on the BFI Player here.

BFI FLARE 2020 - THE LAWYER (ADVOKATAS) review

The BFI Flare festival wrapped up last weekend, having moved itself online in the outbreak of Covid-19 and the temporary closure of the host venue of BFI Southbank. This did mean that a lot of the features that were due to have their premieres at the festival (among them Romas Zabarauskas's The Lawyer) are still awaiting their red carpet debuts, but luckily I was able to get a sneak peek at it.

Corporate Lawyer Marius (Eimutis Kvosciauskas) is caught in an existential spin after the death of his father. With a thriving, successful career but a romantic life that consists of paying for an interaction with men online, he's hoping he can find more than a surface level connection with someone. When he meets Ali (Dogac Yildiz) on a pay for pleasure website, the emotionally distant Marius decides to take a leap, travelling to Belgrade in order to meet him, but his plans go awry when Ali opens up about his real life problems. A Syrian national living in a refugee camp, Marius has to decide whether he should put everything he has on the line to help Ali find a way to leave the country.

At the heart of Romas Zabarauskas's latest is a weighty subject matter far beyond what you might expect from our introduction to Marius and his yuppie dinner parties. Things first begin to change for Marius when he discovers that a guest at one of these parties is trans, a fact that has him questioning his complacency towards engaging in the lives of his friends and co-workers. He's been living his life in a manner that brings to mind Michael Fassbender in Shame; full of temporary lovers to appease his sexual appetite that seems to fulfil him at the time, but with no real interpersonal connections. As Marius searches for something deeper he begins to interact with Ali, who will dance and strip for him in exchange for money. As the two hit it off online, Marius travels to meet with Ali in what he expects will be an encounter based on sex, but that Ali hopes will lead to legal advice.

A story told across different countries and different languages (mainly English and Lithuanian), The Lawyer is a real world commentary on the refugee crisis that is affecting many areas of the world, with an emphasis on the dangers homosexual refugees may face when housed in the camps. This is a crucial plot point but is surprisingly not leaned into too heavily, keeping its dramatic moments quite low key. I wouldn't recommend going into this film expecting it to be a tense legal thriller, as it isn't. Despite the film's title of The Lawyer, this is more about the man who bears that job description, and the complex moral dilemma he finds himself in when his meeting with Ali causes him to question his boundaries. Whilst in Belgrade Marius is called upon by Darya, a client and friend to assist with her divorce, something that is not his speciality as a corporate lawyer, but still, a request he is quick to shoot down as a conflict of interest. Could he help her? Sure, but he's not willing to potentially sacrifice a part of himself for her. With Ali, this poses a different quandary for him, and the potential for love, sex and maybe more has him pursuing all options when the human rights specialists give him the cold hard facts.

In what is never a showy role, Eimutis Kvosciauskas is able to flesh Marius out from the icy cold man he begins the film as to something far more rounded, although it does take some time to get there. The focus remains on him, but his best scenes are when he is with Dogac Yildiz's Ali. Together they do share an unconventional, modern love story; kept apart by rules and restrictions that don't always make sense, and that leave them with no option but to stretch their own principles and Marius's view of the law. It's also open to interpretation as to how much Ali is manipulating Marius for his own benefit. There becomes a point when this isn't the case at all, but it's up to the audience to decide where.

The romance is certainly not one you can get swept up in and there is a feeling of restraint and distance between the pair throughout the film. It's not really a legal drama either, leaving most of the potential conflict that would arise from the scenario unexplored, although it's refreshing that director and writer Romas Zabarauskas didn't feel the need to force violence into the script. The Lawyer does leave a lot to ponder on the issues it raises about a refugee crisis, in particular to LGBTQIA refugees stuck in camps, and it's in its favour as a drama that will stick with you that the moral and ethical implications of a legal professional following certain paths are not all resolved when the credits begin to roll.

BFI FLARE 2020 - DISCLOSURE review

Using interviews with a number of key trans voices working in today's entertainment industry, Sam Feder's Disclosure looks at the history of transgender representation on the big and small screens and asks how society's negative conceptions of trans men & women have been informed by what they've seen.

Going all the way back to the birth of cinema up to the present day, the contributors speak from their own personal experiences about what it felt like to them to see transgender characters on screen, although more often than not in a negative light. It could be quite easy to look back on these shows through a 2020 lens and pass judgement on their failings, but the contributors here are remarkably fair and balanced in their appraisals of representations. It's quite damning on the lack of representation that they can look back on the countless depictions of trans characters in hospital dramas like E/R and Grey's Anatomy being slowly killed by elements of their transition, or police procedurals like NYPD Blue where trans people are often portrayed as sex workers and think, at least it's something. The same goes for talk shows like Jerry Springer and Maury, out for shock value with dramatic revelations of birth genders, but that also allowed trans people to see something approximating their own feelings and frustrations reflected back on them from the TV screen.

What comes across in these interviews (with actresses like Laverne Cox, Candis Cayne and Trace Lysette, and actors like Michael D. Cohen and Marquis Vilson) is how eager the trans community are to having an open and honest conversation, but also how exasperating it is to see themselves continuously portrayed in a negative light, just for existing. There's a large section of the film that might has well have been subtitled "the problem with The Crying Game". A film that can be applauded for igniting a debate in the early 90s, it ultimately is defined by the negative convulsive reaction the straight white cis man lead character has to discovering the 'twist' (leading to Stephen Rea vomiting in the bathroom), and the way the shock factor of that film's plot device was then re-used for comic purposes in films like Naked Gun 33 1/3rd and Ace Ventura: Pet Detective.

There's a key moment halfway through the doc where, having discussed and seen clips from countless problematic films and TV programmes like Dressed to Kill and Silence of the Lambs (actress Jen Richards recoils when telling the story of coming out trans to a friend, and their only point of reference was Jame Gumb), when talking about a scene of rape involving Famke Janssen's trans character Ava Moore on Ryan Murphy's supposedly progressive show Nip/Tuck, Laverne Cox has to break from being another worn down talking head in complete despair to ask "did they stop to consider a trans person watching?". Of course the answer is almost undoubtedly no, as for even in films and TV aimed towards a queer audience, the trans community has been othered and depicted as something to gawk at, often in Hollywood films where cisgender actors like Eddie Redmayne and Jared Leto can portray trans characters with award winning results due to their on screen transformation; something that has always reverted back by the awards ceremony.

It's impressive that in a conversation that's continually evolving, this film feels incredibly up to date. The inclusion of shows and characters that are from only a few years ago (Laverne Cox in Orange is the New Black a prime example) does allow us as the audience to reassess our opinion of what's acceptable, and also of what we want to see on our screens. There's footage of interviews from not so long ago with hugely influential people such as Oprah Winfrey and Katie Couric saying outrageously inconsiderate things that you would hope would not be accepted today, and it's clear that the visibility and voices of outspoken people like Candis Cayne, Trace Lysette and Chaz Bono are having a positive effect.

If I'm picking faults, it is weighted more towards the stories of trans women than trans men with only a cursory mention of non-binary people, although this is also something that's acknowledged in the film to be a problem within entertainment as a whole, and perhaps is simply too big a discussion to fit into one film. As a document of where we are now, Disclosure is a fascinating, well-rounded statement that a change in perspective is a positive thing. We are at a tipping point in the trans "debate" socially and culturally, and this film's purpose is not to shit upon poor depictions and name and shame those who do so, but to ask its audience to consider why trans lives are being portrayed this way and what could be done better.

It's encouraging to see how far we've come in a short space of time in increasing trans visibility on screen and that, as evidenced in this documentary, there's strong voices out there to encourage the continued progress. Disclosure is a fantastic piece of documentary filmmaking that will hopefully reach a wide enough audience to add more voices to that fight.

Disclosure is now screening on BFI Player as part of its BFI Flare at Home season, and more information can be found at disclosurethemovie.com.

BFI FLARE 2020 - DON'T LOOK DOWN review

In a stylish apartment overlooking the streets of Paris, a group of five strangers meet to discuss the one thing they have in common; the man who is locked the room next to them. A parasitic and controlling presence in their lives, in some way or another they have all been mistreated and manipulated by him. As they collectively try to work out why he was able to effect their lives so much, they go into the room one by one to confront their problems, and him.

With topics of discussion ranging from politics to secret desires, the five young, attractive, but narcissistic and damaged people (Manika Auxire, Geoffrey Couet, Simon Frenay, Francois Nambot & Lawrence Valin) cook, eat and flirt with each other, building a steady stream of tension, and not just sexual. Directed and written by Olivier Ducastel and Jacques Martineau (of Theo and Hugo fame), due to the confined nature of the single setting it wouldn't surprise if this project originally started out as a play, although that doesn't seem to be the case here. It certainly draws from similar single location narratives, like Alfred Hitchcock's Rope and Sidney Lumet's 12 Angry Men, although in this case they know the accused is guilty of the social and emotional crimes against them. The why is the real mystery here. Rope is an interesting film to compare this to, as similarly, the person the party is based around is never seen on screen, but is never not a topic of discussion. And boy, there's a lot of discussion.

All five of them have different reasons to feel aggrieved by their common enemy, and this film is in no real rush to tell us why. It's a purposely talky piece, finding its human drama in the commonality they find between the hitherto complete strangers they are in a room with; but it's also an incredibly self indulgent film that's not averse to a sing-a-long interlude and a stress relieving dancing scene (complete with flossing). There's a lot that adds genuinely interesting flavour to the plot, such as the debate as to how to cut an apple tart into five equal pieces when it would be much easier to cut it into six; something Lawrence considers bad luck considering the scenario they're collectively faced with. But sadly, the exploration of the decisions and conclusions they are making over the course of the night does hit fallow ground occasionally, making the (not extensive) runtime of 89 minutes seem overly long and, once again, self indulgent. It's a visually striking film, with the apartment bathed in neon hues, but at the end of the day there's only so much you can do to make a kitchen/diner look exciting.

It's certainly not without merit, offering frank and revealing discussions of sexuality (something that could only be presented as subtext in Hitchcock's Rope), and the cast are all uniformly solid in their varying roles, given a chance to bounce off each other in a variety of pairings in the oddest group therapy session you'll ever see. Unfortunately the stagey set up turns out to be a drawback the story can't overcome.

BFI FLARE 2020 - FOR THEY KNOW NOT WHAT THEY DO review

Dodging the coronavirus by finding a new venue online as #BFIFlareAtHome, this year's festival continues on the BFI Player with For They Know Not What They Do, Daniel Karslake's documentary about the intersection and difficulties families have faced in finding the balance between their religion and their children's sexual and gender identities.

In frank interviews with Karslake, evangelical Christians like the Robertson's tell of their reaction to finding out their 12 year old son Ryan was gay. Telling him that he was putting his soul in jeopardy, to appease his parents Ryan went into years of conversion therapy in an effort to fight his feelings, before spiralling into a drug habit and homelessness. Ryan's parents, Rob and Linda, are upfront about their initial reaction and their failure to support their son by believing in the vitriolic hatred of homosexuality that was preached at their church and spread through their community.

A follow up to Karslake's previous film For The Bible Tells Me So (that also covered similar themes and also featured Bishop Gene Robinson of the Center for American Progress), the title here, For They Know Not What They Do, evokes a need for forgiveness and understanding of why these religious are so against these marginal groups, and it's clear from the documentary that what most of the objecting parents and grandparents suffer from is a lack of education on the matter, or perhaps it could better be described as mis-education. The film continuously cuts to disturbing video footage of pastors and preachers encouraging violence against homosexuals and transgender individuals, leading into Vico's story. Raised as Catholic and fearful of his father and grandmother's reaction to his homosexuality but met with acceptance and love, his world changed when he encouraged his friends to go with him to the Pulse nightclub in Florida on the night of the mass shooting in 2016.

The other two key subjects offer a glimmer of hope for the acceptance of transgender people, with the inspiring story of Sarah McBride who, after coming out as transgender in her last year of college, has continued to pursue the career in politics she wanted, including an internship in Obama's White House and speaking at the Democratic National Convention as the first openly transgender person to do so. Her story is not without its hardships, but there's something so moving about how her father smiles as he talks about her achievements. It also goes to highlight how much has changed since 2016. The last main focus of the film is on Elliot, a mixed-race teenager about to go to college. Despite knowing early on that he was transgender, Elliot fought back against his identity and tried to present as female, leading to a personal crisis and self harm, something that is all to common among transgender people. His parents are also quite open about their initial confusion about what to do; but its fair to say that the aim of the film is not to chastise those who were scared about their children's identities, but to tell their stories in order to help others react in a better way.

Karslake's documentary tells four wildly different stories of people and families from all different backgrounds. It doesn't hold back from showing how the current White House administration has done immeasurable harm to LGBTIQ communities, with a sharp rise in the murders of transgender people of colour in 2017, the barring of transgendered people from joining the armed forces and the continued acceptance of conversion therapy in 41 states where they are still legal. For They Know Not What They Do succeeds in giving each story the platform it deserves, featuring some traumatic stories but is ultimately an inspiring and uplifting experience. It should be seen be the friends and family of anyone in the LGBTIQ community, and hopefully by more too. Easily one of the best films of the festival.

For They Know Not What They Do is currently available on the BFI Player until March 29th as part of their #BFIFlareAtHome content, along with other features and a whole host of short films too. Catch them while you can.

BFI FLARE 2020 - KEYBOARD FANTASIES: THE BEVERLY GLENN-COPELAND STORY review

Best known for the 1986 album Keyboard Fantasies, Posy Dixon's documentary charts Glenn-Copeland's re-emergence as an artist after his definitive album was re-discovered by collectors in the last decade, leading to a new tour to a new generation of fans.

After going to Montreal to study music in the early 1960s, Glenn-Copeland soon found that being the only openly non hetero-normative person on campus was too big a barrier, and so after a run in with his parents and a close call with electro shock therapy, he fled the school to pursue a career as a musician, ending up in rural Canada. Releasing folk and jazz infused albums that were difficult to market, after a period of failures in releasing new material this lead to him self releasing an initial run of 200 cassette tapes of Keyboard Fantasies (recorded with the help of an Atari home computer) in the mid 1980s to little cultural appreciation. Flash forward 30 years and thanks to the collective power of music aficionados, Keyboard Fantasies is in demand across the globe and finally getting the respect it deserves.

I'll be honest that I wasn't familiar with Glenn-Copeland before this documentary, but it's a great introduction to his work in a similar vein to Searching For Sugarman, albeit with the artist upfront and centre in talking heads and live performances. The film is a compact 59 minutes long, but there's some fantastic performances peppered throughout from a recent tour, accompanied by the band Indigo Rising. The highlight of the documentary is seeing how these two generations of musicians, one in his mid 70s and the others in their early 20s, learn from each other and how they so easily blend together during the live shows. It's also incredibly moving to see how much fun Glenn-Copeland is having, playing for a much larger and also younger audience, engaged in the story he has to tell.

What's refreshing is that Glenn-Copeland's gender identity is treated as largely inconsequential for the majority of the film, only becoming a topic of discussion in the last 20 minutes, perhaps as his gender realisation happened after the release of Keyboard Fantasies and before its cultural re-appreciation occurred. It's interesting that director Posy Dixon didn't try to give this aspect of Glenn-Copeland's life a closer inspection for dramatic reasons, but from his own admission, despite growing up black and queer and then having the realisation that he was male later in life, due to his family life and quite possibly due to living in Canada (which from the tour footage seems like a joyous place to live), he didn't receive the same level of abuse that others did.

Capturing Glenn-Copeland's feelings that he has found his purpose, this is a touching documentary that offers a captivating story with a beautiful musical backdrop. Keyboard Fantasies: The Beverly Glenn-Copeland Story is now playing on the BFI Player as part of the #BFIFlareAtHome season.

BFI FLARE 2020 - Five Films For Freedom

Despite the best efforts of the Coronavirus to cancel every major film festival over the next couple of months, the BFI Flare LGBTIQ+ Film Festival team have adapted as best they could in these difficult times, moving some of the features and tons of the shorts over to the BFI Player so that people can enjoy them in the comfort of their own homes as #BFIFlareAtHome.

Among the short films is a collection they've dubbed Five Films For Freedom; a collection of dramas and documentaries from LGBTIQ+ filmmakers, telling stories that could only be told by them. Here's a brief overview of what they have to offer.

When Pride Came to Town follows Bjorn-Tore who left his rural hometown of Volda after coming out to move to Oslo to find acceptance. Decades later he's now returning to Volda to attend their Pride parade, the first of its kind for a rural Norwegian town. The film sees Bjorn-Tore find a town much different to the one he left, with his neighbours proudly hanging a rainbow flag outside, although the documentarians do explore the opinions of those locals whose attitudes haven't caught up yet, including one woman who states that "my best friend is gay and I'm okay with that. He's living in sin, of course", and the words of Hans Reite, a pastor who is against Pride parades happening anywhere. The reconciling of sexuality and religion is a common one in films at Flare, and When Pride Came to Town is just the tip of the iceberg for this year. Well structured and presented, this is an uplifting and moving doc that can see the visual power of the rainbow flag and uses it to its advantage.

134 is a short Irish drama that shows a young transgender girl as she competes in an Irish dancing tournament. Largely told from the point of view of the parents as her mother plays scenes from the past in her head from when she was unsupportive of her child's gender identity (something her father is still struggling to do), it only hints at the intolerance her daughter is facing in pursuing their dream, but there's an interesting idea in the exploration of Irish dancing (and competitive dancing as a whole) as an acutely gendered activity that needs to move away from its traditional definitions.

Flare is an international festival that screens films from across the globe, including the Brazilian short After That Party. Leo seeks the help of his friend Carol in working out how best to speak to his supposedly straight father after witnessing him kissing another man at a party. It's a premise that could have been mined for gritty drama, but instead After That Party is pleasantly light, fluffy and comedic in its presentation. It's a sweet natured film that's not interested in digging for drama in Leo's discovery, and is more interested in showing a story of acceptance, albeit with some comedy from the social awkwardness of it all.

The final documentary in this collection is a very short snapshot of Pxssy Palace, a monthly club night in Hackney that champions queer people of colour. In the doc there's a lot of voiceover explaining how they started with house parties before finding a fixed venue (a studio space in Hackney), with footage of them in fashion shoots and as photographers creating "an archive of queer nightlife". What's most surprising is the lack of footage from an actual club night to convey the real atmosphere. Instead the documentarians have given their subjects better lighting and a glittery back drop for them to dance in front of in slow motion, all the better to control their image. How very Hackney. It's a stylish and slick looking film, but plenty of room has been left to expand on the subject.

The final short in the collection is probably my favourite, and a rare genre short for this festival. Something in the Closet isn't shy about its subtext, when after a game of spin the bottle two teenage girls kiss in a closet for the first time. Struggling to know how to respond to the realisation of her sexuality, Madi avoids talking to her mother and faces the bullying of her friends, all while a malevolent force with glowing red eyes appears in her bedroom closet. A mini horror filled with teenage angst, forbidden love and a compelling story; it's a visual metaphor writ large, but done very well.

The Five Films For Freedom are available now on the BFI Player without a subscription, with plenty more shorts and features available to those who sign up. It's well worth taking advantage of a free trial membership just to catch some of the BFI Flare 2020 features that are being added during the festival.