Do You Hear What I Hear?

 

Sean Baker's Tangerine from 2015 is a fast-paced, Christmas themed comedy that gives viewers a taste of what life is like for Black, transgender prostitutes in West Hollywood. In particular, the sounds in the film help us empathize with the protagonists and make us feel like we're in the middle of the action alongside them instead of looking in on them as outsiders.

When Sin Dee first gets out of jail, she meets up with her friend Alexandra at Donut Time to celebrate, and the scene's witty dialogue and ambient noise around them helps us empathize with these women we only just met. With no other sounds like music to distract us or tell us how to feel in the moment, we pay closer attention to what Sin Dee and Alexandra are actually discussing. The audible hum of traffic outside the shop solidifies our place in the scene right beside them; we hear exactly what they hear. Upon finding out about the girl her fiancé Chester had been cheating with, Sin Dee storms out onto the street and uptempo electronic music starts playing complete with gun sound effects, showing that she is not messing around. The music combined with the shots of her strutting along the street align us with Sin Dee and her new mission to find Chester.

Towards the end of the film, each of the main characters come together, incidentally at Donut Time, and all hell breaks loose. Razmik, one of Alexandra's regular clients, shows up to see her, but his wife who just found out about his business with her and other trans prostitutes enters with their toddler. Meanwhile, his mother-in-law barged in earlier as Sin Dee, Chester, and Dinah were loudly arguing. For the majority of the scene, we only hear the dialogue and the ambient noise as well as the baby crying, which heightens the already tense mood. As Razmik and his family argue in Armenian, Sin Dee, Chester, and Dinah occasionally interject in English, and the language difference really drives home how no one's on the same page in this moment. Once Razmik leaves with the baby, we hear fast percussion music which signals a change in the action, similar to the scene when Sin Dee leaves Donut Time to look for Chester in the beginning.

The sounds of Tangerine immerse us in the world of the characters whether they're on the street, on public transport, or at Donut Time. Through dialogue, music, and ambient noise, we get to know Sin Dee and Alexandra as well as Razmik and the others, and these noises get us truly invested in their story.

Feast Your Eyes

 

As a part of the New Queer Cinema movement of the 1990s, Paris is Burning by the independent director Jennie Livingston introduced the members of NYC's drag ball scene to the big screen in a way that was meant to educate mainstream white heterosexual audiences about that subculture. Despite its intent to inform, however, the film is not without its issues. Today I'd like to focus on feminist author and theorist bell hooks and her argument that Paris is Burning transforms the "ritual" of the drag ball into "spectacle."

In her essay on Livingston's documentary, hooks asserts that, "Ritual is that ceremonial act that carries with it meaning and significance beyond what appears, while spectacle functions primarily as entertaining dramatic display" (150). The camera's gaze captures all the glamour and athleticism of the ball contestants as they do their thing at the Imperial Lodge of Elks, but when it comes to the personal lives of those same individuals, we don't learn much about them outside of their relationship to the ball scene. When we do, in the case of Venus who is a classically pretty light skinned woman, the story ends in her death which is still ultimately framed as spectacle. That a young, beautiful, white-passing girl who claims to want nothing more in life than to be adored and spoiled dies is a tragedy but one that does not need further investigation or explanation according to the film.

I believe part of the reason behind Livingston's presentation of ball culture and its participants as spectacle rather than ritual has to do with her intended audience. It's pretty safe to say that the documentary is aimed at "outsiders" who want to look in on a marginalized subculture they're not a part of, i.e. cisgender heterosexual white people belonging to the middle and upper classes. In order to capture the interest of that particular audience, Livingston packs the film with images of lively, glitzy drag balls meant to elicit "oohs" and "aahs" from viewers. Another tactic she uses is the repeated message that these Black and brown queer people aspire to become their white cishet counterparts because as we said in class, white audiences typically want the media they consume to somehow relate back to whiteness. 

The depiction of spectacle is a key aspect of Paris is Burning and likely contributed to its commercial success. This film goes to show that even when watching documentaries which are meant to inform, mainstream audiences want to be entertained, even if entertainment comes at the expense of omitting the true complexity of the subject matter.

Hard on the Outside, Softer on the Inside

 

Mariana Rondón's Pelo Malo from 2013 gives viewers a glimpse into the life of a young boy named Junior as he navigates family struggles and begins the process of figuring out who he wants to be. Part of this journey involves observing people in his urban Venezuelan neighborhood, most notably Mario, the older boy who works at the kiosco on the street below Junior's apartment. 

The many shots of Junior gazing at Mario can be interpreted in a few ways. Because the film deals with Junior's gender nonconformity and its repercussions, there's a strong case to be made that Junior's fixation is an innocent childhood crush. Alternatively, the older teen could represent the sort of masculinity the younger boy wants to emulate. There's also the possibility that Junior is simply observing this figure who's conventionally masculine in how he presents but is accepting of his friend for who he is. Regardless, Mario is the only male character that Junior likes to spend time with, which is interesting given that he must go to school with lots of little boys his own age.

On the outside, Mario is a man's man. He works for a living, shoots hoops in his spare time, has close-cropped hair, and sits with his legs splayed far apart. He's also totally fine with Junior just being who he is and isn't afraid to show that he cares about the younger boy right on the street where anyone can see them. As part of the boy's chosen family, he's the one Junior turns to after the massive fight with his mom where she cuts a lock of his hair with scissors. Instead of passing judgement or shooing him away, Mario gives him his hoodie and the two sit for a bit, with Mario taking up as much space as possible and Junior doing the opposite. Despite his macho appearance, the teen never comments on the things that set Junior apart from other boys. More than anything, Mario exhibits a form of masculinity that doesn't demean other expressions of gender in order to legitimize itself, highlighting how even the side characters in this film have nuance.