The short-lived term New Queer Cinema which was coined in the late 1980s and early 1990s had a loose assemblage of films and film-makers, among them Gus Van Sant, Derek Jarman, Issac Julien, Monika van Treut and, most obnoxiously, Gregg Arraki. These refreshing, original and defiant films transcended the “woe is me, I’m a homosexual” theme, and in so doing created a trend.
They reflected the real-life situation of gays and lesbians. They went beyond examining their characters’ sexual orientation, rather dealing with the many issues affecting them: Aids, the out queer as rebel, and the unification of gay men and lesbians as a community. The result was a chorus of “Yeah, we’re queer – what the fuck you gonna do about it?”
As a result of this rash of politically incorrect, dangerous (some would say negative) gay and lesbian themed films, Hollywood started changing its stripes, and we saw movies like Philadelphia and The Birdcage on the mainstream circuit. At the same time there were some little indies like the lesbian-chic-flick Go Fish, made for less than $100 000, that raked up a popular fortune at the box-office.
Locally, and inevitably, gay and lesbian themed movies have also become a regular item. Ludwig Wagner, acquisitions officer for art movies at Ster-Kinekor, says defensively: “I don’t think gay films have purposely become more mainstream. I believe that audiences, people and the studios just have less of an issue about it, and for the most part in major Hollywood pictures you only see gay and lesbian themes with clichéd characters and plots.”
All the same, today the queer themed movie market is thriving. With the sixth J&B South African Gay and Lesbian Film Festival opening this week in Cape Town, there’s a flurry of independent and mainstream films on offer.
Led by Nodi Murphy in association with film-maker Jack Lewis, the festival had auspicious but low-budget beginnings. Murphy says: “I was working on the Cape Town Film Festival and looking about for queer films, and ended up speaking with Jack who said he was organising his own … and we got together. The first fest was great – all done from Jack’s study. It was tremendous to feel responsible for such glitter and glam, such trash and flash that dripped in the foyers night after night. What’s more, we sold 18 000 tickets.”
The route to raising finance for the festival has not been easy, although these days Ster-Kinekor is listed as a supporting sponsor. While the major distributors show general interest in queer films, most of the cool stuff the festival likes to show is made by independents. So they rely on grants and sponsors. This year’s event is branded by J&B, a far cry from earlier years when it was funded with R35 000 from the Dutch humanitarian organisation HIVOS. In a later year Absolut Vodka gave them R25 000, in exchange for the back cover of the programme.
“Fundraising is difficult,” Murphy says. “I’m sick and tired of writing proposals … we need leverage as a community and that’s still a long way off. The liquor companies are big and can absorb the occasional idiot who thinks that if they go into a bar and ask for a drink that sponsors a gay and lesbian event, everyone will think they’re a faggot or dyke.”
As for her programming tactics, Murphy says: “Always operate on the broadest mix available … always remember that the white boys have money and time, make sure that you have more than enough for them. And I always make sure that of a programme of about 30 films that at least 12 are available to women … but there are downsides to this in that we have to screen in three cities, while most other festivals only screen once.”
Murphy has done a sterling job in programming this year’s festival and it’s a genuine reflection of what is out there in terms of gay and lesbian film-making internationally.
What is interesting is how a so-called marginal genre of cinema is itself becoming increasingly interested in ever-more marginal subjects and communities. This year’s festival we have Lola and Bilidikid about gay Turkish emigrants in Berlin, alongside another Berlin-set comedy about women of colour called Everything Will be Fine. This is complemented by candid, real portraits of lesbians in films from Sweden (Tales from the Closet) and America. Cheryl Dunye’s The Watermelon Woman, for example, claims to be about the “reclaiming of black lesbian history and the politics of interracial dating”.
Then there’s Blind Faith – the directorial debut of Spike Lee’s cinematographer, Ernest Dickerson – about society’s bigotry and homophobia. Set around a 1950s court case, it’s about the model son of a black policeman accused of killing a white youth.
There’s the Yiddish factor, brought to bear in Man is a Woman about a gay man forced into marriage with a folk-singing virgin; together they come to terms with their sexuality.
The festival has a host of great movies, including no less than three programmes of short films.
For those queers who don’t want to get to heavy about “queerdom”, there’s always a little rush that can be obtained from watching the erotic. These include Beauty from Hong Kong and Bruce La Bruce’s controversial “porn movie” about homophobia and gay skinheads called Skin Flick.
There’s a feast out there – waiting for your gay, lesbian, straight or even unsure eyes to “lay” upon.
The J&B South African Gay & Lesbian Film Festival shows at Cinema Nouveau at the V&A Waterfront in Cape Town from January 27 to February 6; at Cinema Nouveau in Rosebank, Johannesburg, from February 3 to 13, at the Kine Centre in Johannesburg from February 4 to 6 and at Cinema Nouveau in Brooklyn, Pretoria, from February 6 to 13