Many critics of Desiree Akhavan’s The Bisexual have condemned it for not being explicitly subversive enough, somehow implying that because of Akhavan’s bisexuality, she necessarily has to write a neat arc which leads up to a climatic acceptance of main character Leila’s sexuality. I believe that form of criticism in itself is worth interrogating: Why do we expect LGBTQ-centered media (particularly, those by LGBTQ artists) to live up to a totalising and universalising narrative, when all of us have differing experiences on sexuality because of our varied socio-political circumstances? And why do we place the burden on LGBTQ people to figure out all there is to do with sex, gender and sexuality when the world is persistently denying and censoring our access to all these things? Continue reading “Art, Autobiography and Sexuality in Desiree Akhavan’s ‘The Bisexual’”
It starts with a whisper, then a murmur, then a joyous shout. Spreading across the screening like waves disturbing still water, the chanting begins. Sapphics hold hands as they begin to activate their power, absorbing gay energy from the very presence of Rachel Weisz in a hunting outfit. They will now live forever, to spread a message of plaid and emotional detachment across the world.
“Let’s go lesbians,” yells the theatre, and all heterosexuality evaporates into dust.
I’m joking, of course, but that’s kinda what watching The Favourite felt like.
Rafiki is a film that will go down in history. Wanuri Kahiu, in creating a Kenyan film unafraid to portray lesbian sexuality, not only succeeded in winning over the international festival circuit, but also faced down a tough legal battle in her home country. Victorious, Kahiu was permitted to show the film for one week in Kenya (where homosexuality is illegal) so that Rafiki may qualify for Oscar submission — a week that was undoubtedly revolutionary for the Kenyan lesbian community.
Subversive in its very existence, Rafiki’s profound impact is twofold: as a love story, the film crafts a study of forbidden lesbian intimacy unlike any other. Never voyeuristic, Kahiu’s camera traces the bodies of her characters as they touch, following the movements of hands upon skin with breathtaking detail. The absence of what we would typically consider as nudity only strengthens the clandestine, almost wistful nature of Kena and Ziki’s relationship — we are outsiders to their unique bond, and their bodies are not ours to consume. Rather, it is their affection for each other that we witness, and what a beautiful affection it is. The pair is endlessly supportive of each other regardless of the circumstance. When Kena explains her wish to become a nurse, Ziki pushes her —why not a doctor? Kena doesn’t think she’ll get the grades, but Ziki believes in her fully. There is no selfishness between them, and in this sense, they function almost like a friendship, as reflected in the title: “Rafiki” means “Friend” in Swahili. Continue reading “BFI London Film Festival ’18 Review: ‘Rafiki’ is a Beautiful Study of Dual Identity”
An unsolved mystery, especially one as peculiar as the case of the Lizzie Borden murders, should be like gold dust for filmmakers looking to tap into a ready-made audience. The chance to portray a real story that has peaked our communal curiosity for over a hundred years provides an opportunity to update those old tales for a new, fresher audience, and dare to make judgements through the interpretive lens of a camera. With a wealth of grisly information on the aftermath (Mr. Borden was struck 18 times with an axe; his wife 17), here is the perfect circumstance for an artist to create something devastatingly haunting from a story so deeply embedded in American popular culture. Lizzie promises all of this but never delivers, presenting us instead with a bare-bones carcass of a biopic that is stripped of all individuality, charm, or character.