I Know How Fully Devoted You Are: Farewell, My Queen (2012)

This set of films for the month of March is taking a decided turn toward France, but that just happens to be the result of two things, either they were immediately available to me, or as in the case of this film, something I wanted to see before entirely committing to a top ten list for 2012.  Farewell, My Queen, a film by Benoit Jacquot, of whom I am not familiar with, is certainly within the context of my month of women in film, considering that it essentially focuses on the experiences of the storming of the Bastille and the subsequent attack on the residence of Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI, however, where many films would place the narrative centrally within the experiences of either member of royalty, this particular incarnation focuses on one of the servants to Antoinette, both fresh in the take on the popular bit of period piece, as well as likely riding the coattails of Downton Abbey and other upstairs/downstairs oriented dramas.  Even if it is existing in the vacuum of this thematic approach, Farewell, My Queen is decidedly its own work and focuses quite directly on the experiences of one woman, whose navigating through the spaces of privilege, while also being detached from them, serves as a half-expose on the French aristocracy of the era and wholly evocative, intrusive piece of cinema.  Of course, what makes Farewell, My Queen such a heavily noted film from last year is not any of the aforementioned elements, but what it decides to suggest about the theory that Antoinette was engaged in lesbian activities, during her life.  While the film could have taken this idea and run amuck with it exploiting nudity and sexuality without apologies, the exceptionally introspective and pensive film actually considers the romantic evolution of such a relationship, particularly how navigating such a socially unacceptable relationship might have occurred, through shared whispers and back room intimacies.  I will not go out of my way to say that Farewell, My Queen is a great film, it is indeed quite good and well worth watching, where it does fail is simply in its overly ambitious narrative a fault that one can only be so critical of in a overall soundly created film.

Farewell, My Queen, while possessive of multiple characters, focuses primarily on Agathe (Lea Seydoux) a young woman attempting to make her own in the world while working as the appointed reader to Marie Antoinette (Diane Kruger).  In the beginning of the film, Agathe is more concerned with making her advancement within the halls of the palace, despite being blocked by older women who see her as being disrespectful and precocious.  Marie, however, seems to take a particular liking to Agathe and talks very candidly with her about her opinions about life, of course, avoiding to do so when in the presence of others.  Yet, within hours of this being depicted, the Bastille is sieged and it becomes rather clear that the palace will be destroyed and beheadings will ensue for all those with power, Louis XVI and Marie being the first names on the list.  This revelation, understandably, leads the palace into a degree of anarchy, a facade of formality is attempted, yet as workers begin quitting or turning to the aid of the peasants so too does the sanity in the palace.  In the madness of it all, Marie finds herself revealing a deeply kept secret to Agathe about a relationship she has been having with Duchess Gabrielle (Virginie Ledoyen), one with a very real sexual element.  Agathe sees it as her duty to keep Marie's secret hidden, even with the presence of evasive questions and a complete dismissal of authority information transition.  When it becomes quite evident that to stay at the palace will be to assure death, Marie is baffled to find out that Louis expects them both to remain, a concern that worsens when she is told that Gabrielle will be leaving, leading to them having a final moment of intimacy without interaction in front of the entire royal court.  In a last ditch effort to assure her safety, Gabrielle plans to have Agathe dress as her during the escape, just in case they run into hostile peasants,  all the while Gabrielle will attempt to pass as a maid.  This plan proves successful for them, however, as history tells us things were less ideal for Marie Antoinette, yet, in a final challenge to the viewer the closing dialogue is Agathe reminding everyone that the film is of her story, not that of anybody else, no matter how historically important.

The film is about a lot of things, however, whether it be navigating class issues or accepting ones sexuality, it is overly concerned with the idea of performance.  This exists perhaps most obviously in the manner with which class and prestige are performed.  The various servants of Marie are expected to act in an upright manner, even when she is being excessive and completely detached.  In fact, when Agathe scratches her itching arm it makes a huge controversy arise where Agathe's job is threatened for acting of a lower and filthy class, even though it is established that Agathe is to always be below Marie, yet she is also expected to perform as friend to her at all times, exchanging opinions about trivialities such as fabric.  Of course, sexuality is also performed to a degree, Marie, who the narrative suggests to be at the very least bisexual, must also perform heterosexuality, when in public and even when things are falling apart, the concern for saving face makes her reject her bisexuality openly, and the same thing certainly holds true for Gabrielle, although one could argue that she is engaging in a certain degree of deception.  I would even stretch this another layer further and add the possibility that Agathe is also a lesbian, although she claims to engage in every action as a direct result of her devotion to the Queen as an authority figure, however, given the state of authority at the point in which the narrative emerges, one cannot help but think that her affection extends beyond mere aristocratic hierarchy.  Then there is also the very real performance which occurs on the part of Agathe and Gabrielle where they essentially switch identities, one becoming the object of desire for Marie, while the other moves away from that realm, perhaps into the roles they were ideally intended for, one cannot say for sure, yet it is rather evident that their both exist feelings that betray the acts they have up until this point been performing.  It is a brilliant multi-layered identity narrative which will likely benefit from multiple viewings.

Key Scene:  There is a scene where Marie is removing her wig and wiping off her makeup that says so much about her letting her guard down only moments later, it is cinematic metaphor executed to an otherworldly degree.

This is a solid film, I am still not a hundred percent sold on it, as such, I would suggest renting it to see what you think.

You're Admitting It, Just By Being Silent: Memento Mori (1999)

I was going to dodge doing films within the horror genre for at least a month, however, this Korean film project has meant that I am tied down to watching a particular set of films, not that I mind of course considering it is a main area of research interests, particularly in the ways gender is portrayed within the films.  Yet even when I reflect on Memento Mori while writing this blog I realize that referring to it as a  a horror film is somewhat misleading and were it not for the last fifteen to twenty minutes of the film, it would seem to be the complete antithesis of anything of the genre.  Instead, as others of have argued, Memento Mori is a study of young love, in this case in a lesbian context and manages to stick to its guns about this theme for a good portion of the film.  Of course when I say that this is a horror movie, set in a high school about two young girls discovering their lesbian desires, one could easily read it as being something of an exploitative flick, particularly considering the latent violence and sexuality within so much of New Korean Cinema, yet, in the hands of co-directors Tae-Yong Kim and Kyu-dong Min we are provided with an earnest look into two girls falling head over heals for one another despite the aggressive and physical abuses enacted upon them by their fellow students, as well as the faculty and staff of the high school they attend.  In a tradition somewhat normal in the Korean psychological thriller, the film's narrative is quite non-linear and even appears to contain dueling narratives existing within the same film space.  While this is apparently a loose sequel to an earlier film titled Whispering Corridors, something I am now dying to see, Memento Mori manages to make strides in its commentaries on youthful angst and ill-will, as well as draw serious attention to issues of silencing and bullying the other.  I often find myself engaged in conversations in which much criticism is brought about as to the lack of interesting and appropriate lesbian figures within film, had I known of this film prior I would have leapt at the opportunities to discuss this highly overrated work.  I would boldy suggest that were Memento Mori not suffering from mislabeling as horror, it would be a far more recognized work.

The film, as mentioned, primarily centers on the burgeoning love between two young girls, one the somewhat well-respected, if not despised Min Hyo-sin (Park Ye-jin) and the reserved athlete Yoo Shi-eun (Lee Young-jin) who suffers from some sort of hearing loss that causes her to be the subject of ridicule by classmates and teachers who all seem to suffer from an insane lack of understanding.  While they manage to keep their romantic involvement somewhat of a secret, the discovery of their journal by a fellow student named Soh Min-ah (Kim Min-sun), leading to speculation and a fabrication of their evolving relationship.  This spirals the film into something incredibly non-linear in which viewers may find trouble attaching moments to their proper moment in time, particularly when scenes involve both the lovers, as well as Soh.  It is only when we witness Soh secluded reading the diary that we can assure a present state, but it moves to their moments of intimacy with such instantaneous fervor that it is never certain.  Eventually, it is revealed that despite an initial bond, Shi-eun becomes somewhat distancing towards Hyo-sin who she sees as becoming far too attached to be a healthy relationship, going so far as to sleep with a male teacher as a means of assuring that the two will have a child together.  This drives Hyo-sin over the edge causing her to commit suicide, expecting Shi-eun to follow along as part of a suicide pact made earlier in the film.  Of course, Shi-eun does no such thing and attempts only to exist and distance herself from her past choices.  This leads to Hyo-sin haunting the school for the latter portion of the film, at times possessing Soh since she is key to bringing the entire narrative to light, considering that she possesses the journal.  The film ends rather abruptly as the ghost distances itself from the school and we are again shown a moment of Hyo-sin and Shi-eun engaging in young romantic affairs on the school's roof, as though the events to follow were just a troublesome figment of their young and vibrant imaginations.

This film has received a lot of criticism, and deservedly so, for not sticking to a central cinematic concept, especially the films third act which is exceptionally frantic and damn near impossible to follow.  However, I would contest that the films message requires this sort of ambiguous and non-linear format to drive home issues of oppression and ignorance.  The relationship we are shown is created through not a factual account per se, but a gleaning for emotive notes written in an equally non-traditional diary, one full of pictures, phrases and hidden pockets, but rarely of any flat out writing.  Hyo-sin clearly struggled to explain her feelings for Shi-eun, just as she ponders existence when reading her poem for class.  She cannot properly categorize her feelings for another girl, because the societal constructs not only do not allow her to possess such feelings, but, in fact, completely lack a language to describe such moments.  The narrative reinforces this both by the hateful language spouted by the oppressive forces within the film, as well as by creating a narrative that is not traditional in its construct.  At times Memento Mori reads more like a feminist experimental film or a piece of Third World Cinema, something more inclined to deal with the intersectionalities considered in this work.  Sure this film masks itself in a horror film at its closing moments, I imagine some of that is likely to be a result of nitpicking producers, however, despite its problematic genre location, Memento Mori is very much a film to be grounded and admired within the constantly growing and emerging Gay and Lesbian cinema.

Key Scene:  The moments on the rooftop are sweet and sentimental, something not often shown in Korean cinema.

This is a great film and one worth checking out, unfortunately, it is a bit hard to come by via Netflix, but Amazon has decently priced copies at the moment.

Blood Is The Life Which Flows In You: Fascination (1979)

I thought after viewing the aptly named Vampyros Lesbos film that I had undertaken all the vampire lesbian films which existed in the world, as I have come to realize some years later, not only is the vampire lesbian film a well-represented segment within the horror genre, French born director Jean Rollin proved to be one of the premier filmmakers within the subject.  I realize from the onset that my dislike for this film is not shared, and that there is a general consensus that Rollin as a filmmaker, and the vampire lesbian genre as a whole offer much to be enjoyed.  With that in mind I can say that I thoroughly enjoyed the cinematography and soundtrack within the film and despite being a rather weak plot, the movement around a metahistorical narrative was quite fun.  Of course, these few moments of greatness are not enough to make the film soundly watchable.  It becomes quite evident that at least a third of this film will be devoted to characters undressing themselves and each other only to build up to moments of sexuality that are for all intensive purposes soft-core erotica.  Furthermore the already sexual composition of the film is worsened by the many on the nose references to phallic imagery and masculine endeavors of oppression which occur throughout the film.  Even when the film appears as though it will be redemptive by portraying female characters in central roles of power, Rollin, ultimately, allows for what can only be describe as hysteria to take control of their actions, despite the clear suggestion that they are not human, but vampires.  Unfortunately in the world of Rollin a female vampire is still a woman and, therefore, unable to properly control their emotions and engage without the slightest inkling of reason.  Where Fascination could have been revolutionary it is exploitative and where it could have used sexuality in a contemplative a manner it simply comes across as trashy.  Fascination is by no means a bad movie, it is indeed quite decent, however, its problematic moments are so egregious that they manage to detract from the movie considerably.

Set in 1905, Fascination begins with a group of upper class women stopping by a slaughter house to consume what is allegedly ox blood as a means to cure anemia.  With little to no explanation the film then jumps to the narrative of a bandit named Marc (Jean-Marie Lemair) who is now on the run from a group of fellow criminals after a deal with heavy monetary value goes sour.  Seeking refuge from his pursuers, Marc hides in a large castle hoping to evade them through nightfall and sneak away in the shadows.  His plan is quickly curtailed, however, when he realizes that the castle that he assumed to be unoccupied is very much the opposite as indeed inhabited by two ethereal and beautiful young women named Eva (Brigitte Lahale) and Elisabeth (Franca Mai).  Quickly asserting his masculine dominance, Marc demands that the two women obey his requests, as well as explain why the mansion is empty with the exception of the two of them.  Blatantly dismissive and mocking towards Marc, it is revealed that Eva and Elisabeth are lovers and part of a satanic cult which is destined to meet at the caste at the stroke of midnight.  As much confused and intrigued, Marc falls for the women, eventually sleeping with Eva, much to Elisabeth's demise, going so far as to use her to kill her pursuers in incredibly violent manners.  Despite the various pleas by Elisabeth for Marc to leave, he decides to stay at the possiblity to spend a night in what he assumes to be a orgiastic cult ritual.  However, with the emergence of the other women, who it is revealed have been consuming far more than ox blood, Marc become hesitant and attempts to extract himself from the events of the evening which have turned incredibly dark.  Marc   confesses his love to Elisabeth after rejecting her multiple times, an act Elisabeth notes before killing him only to leave with the head vampire woman, thus concluding the bizarre sex-laden story of Fascination.

I made it quite clear that I am not particularly fond of the manners in which sexuality manifests itself within Fascination.  To me it is far more exploitative than it is metaphorical.  Some of the acts of male sexual dominance are problematic in their rape like context and have no grounding on the films narrative advancement, this is certainly the case when Eva engages in intercourse with one of the bandits chasing Mark.  It has no justification beyond the means to add another sex scene to a nudity filled work.  In fact, the only scene in the film that is even remotely logical is the initial moment of intimacy between Eva and Elisabeth, but that goes on for far too long.  Essentially, sexuality in Fascination is not earnest as it is in something like The Kids Are All Right, nor does it have the heavy political ambitions and implications of the controversial film Salo; Or the 120 Days of Sodom.  Sex is just sex in Fascination attempting to mask itself as artful filmmaking.  Even the metaphors with sexual implications are heavy-handed.  Eva and Elisabeth's suggestions that their knives are silent, as they rub them across their lips and face are worthy of a double face-palm, while Elisabeth's stealing of Marc's clearly phallic gun only to put it in her mouth and contemplate suicide defies logic, in fact, Eva's possession of the scythe seems to be the only remotely well-executed use of metaphor in the entire work.  Metaphor does not work within Fascination like it does in a work of Hitchcock's, hell metaphor just does not work in the world of Rollin.  Things are forcefully and repetitiously explained to viewers as though the slightest moment lacking clarity would mean a complete failure to Rollin.  If anything Fascination suffers from being too on the nose, while, simultaneously, having no idea what it is trying to say.

Key Scene:  The moment when Eva emerges from the barn semi-nude with the scythe is cinematically oneiric.

Fascination is an alright film, not something that is dying to be viewed, should you be bored or just happen to be fixated on vampire lesbians then the watch instantly option of Netflix should prove just fine.

My Film World: Vampires and Violets: Lesbians In Film

This will be a rather quick post as I am pressed for time, but I just wanted to take a moment to make note of a book I read recently concerning the image of lesbians in world cinema.  The book titled Vampires and Violets: Lesbians In Film From The Crossdressing Stars, Dietrich and Garbo, To The Vampires Of The Late 60's, To Silkwood And The Color Purple.  The title itself is rather all encompassing, which nicely reflects the broad nature of the piece.  Author, Andrea Weiss, better known for her documentary After Stonewall, takes great care to discuss both the blatant and repressed images of lesbians in film.  The work is concise and approachable and truly considers what actresses were projecting in their roles, as well as approaching the notion of what gay women would have felt watching these projected images.  Perhaps the best part of the entire work though is Weiss's persistence in being extremely critical of the imagery she discusses.  Instead of simply noting the existence of such films, Weiss intensively breaks down the problems and products of each image, often arguing that even the most liberal of lesbian imagery is entrenched within patriarchal oppression.  Fortunately, Weiss finds optimism in the films closing chapter as she discusses the power experimental films have had in the previous two decades.  It is an honest read that is neither preachy nor indifferent.  I cannot recommend it enough, snag your own copy and enjoy.

   (Su Friedrich's 1987 film Damned If You Don't receives heavy discussion from Weiss, and deservedly so because it is a truly intense portrait of repressed lesbianism.)