Eau Queer Film Festival

Eau Queer Film Festival celebrates the diversity of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer/questioning (LGBTQ) communities through screening and discussing riveting documentaries, awe-inspiring features, quirky comedies, and shorts. We embrace...

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Things you learn as an ally watching new queer cinema

1. Movies are part of our privilege

As a straight, white, cis person, the vast majority of movies are made for us. This was something I'd thought about a couple times, but it really hit me when I was in San Francisco. Even when there's "queer" representation, someone being LGBTQ automatically becomes the focus of their entire character.  Take for example the infamous Mean Girls. The first description ever given of Damien was that he's "too gay to function." For straight audiences, that's laughable. Damien's character reinforced all the stereotypes that we've created for white, gay men-sassy, a huge gossip, obsessed with clothes, and only ever having female friends. But lets be clear, there is nothing inherent about being gay and fitting into any of those stereotypes. Imagine what it must have been like as a young, gay kid in the movie theater in 2004 seeing that representation of you on the screen. For a straight audience, if we don't see ourselves reflected in one character, there's thousands of others we might resonate with. For LGBTQ people in Hollywood Cinema, that luxury does not exist. That's why Queer film festivals are so important. Not only do they bring to film queer topics, but they also give queer people a representation of themselves on screen. Until I watched LGBTQ film for 10 days, I didn't realize how integral that can be to someone's identity development. 

2. The person who makes the film matters

If a straight, cis, white, man is making a film, the content looks very different than if it were to be a bisexual, cis, latino, woman. Each time an identity of a film director, producer, or editor varies, the content of the film can also very. While white, gay, cis men face oppressions because they are gay, they also still have white privilege, male privilege, and cis privilege. While watching films in San Francisco, I learned how important paying attention to the director is. It's not that there isn't trans women of color making films, it's likely that we aren't giving them the same air time as a film with a more privileged director. In Hollywood, many film directors and producers are white, cis, straight men. While queer cinema gives a voice to queer directors, we still have to be considerate of what voices queer film needs to do a better job of illuminating. 

3. Queer cinema doesn't mean documenting a coming out story

As a straight person, we it is easy to assume that queer cinema means either making a documentary about someone coming out or a feature film about the story of someone coming out. However, although those stories are important, I quickly learned in San Francisco that those stories aren't queer cinema. Queer lives aren't contingent upon one act of "coming out." Coming out is absolutely a radical act. However, there is more to queer stories than that plot-line. Queer cinema not only has the power to tell coming out stories, but to create films with LGBTQ leads. A lot of the really powerful films I had the opportunity to see in San Francisco weren't about coming out at all. The fact that someone was LGBTQ was a minor aspect to the story that the film was trying to tell. We need to challenge the trope that queer cinema means the story of coming out. When do that, we provide room for queer film makers to tell multiple stories and we allow for viewers to see a multitude of experiences and narratives. 

4. If you don't get some of it, that's okay

There would be times sitting in the theater watching a movie and everyone was laughing at a line that had gone completely over my head. There were nuances about queer relationships that the film directors were able to capture on screen that went completely over my head. And that is totally okay.  Queer cinema is created with a queer audience in mind. That doesn't mean that as a straight, cis person we can just discount queer films all together or that they aren't important for us to watch. Queer documentaries bring to light issues that profoundly affect the day-to-day lives of LGBTQ people today. They document histories that are left out of mainstream education and tell stories of people that would be otherwise erased because of their identities. Queer feature films solidify that queer relationships can be just that-a relationship. They don't have to be an anomaly. However, when we're watching these films, we also have to recognize that there are going to be nuances and emotions that are captured that are created for queer audiences. In those moments, sit back and take in the cinema and the atmosphere around you and the queer audience that gets it have their moment. 

5. Queer cinema should be critiqued

Queer films are by no means perfect. For example, when we were watching the movie Women Who Kill at Frameline40, there was a moment in the film where one of the characters said that she was bisexual "but I don't say it out loud." As an audience member, it felt biphobic to me and to the people I was sitting near. When we asked the director, she said that it was a joke between her and some of her friends at home. Her intent wasn't to be biphobic, though the question was one that had to be asked of her. Queer cinema does not mean that it's perfect queer cinema. There's no film in the world that's a perfect film. However, when we critique these films, we have to make sure we do it in a way that is homophobic or transphobic. In the midst of watching a film, if a scene doesn't sit right with us, why? Is the discomfort happening because what we know to be true is being challenged? Is this discomfort going to give us an opportunity to learn and expand what we know? Or is this a feeling of something being problematic? Before we outwardly critique film, we need to be sure to assess our own privilege to be sure that our critique is a valid one. 

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Let’s talk about the “Q” in LGBTQ—

Many people have asked us over the years: “Why use queer?” “Isn’t queer a bad word?” In fact just a few weeks ago when we were at Chalkfest here on campus, I overheard someone commenting on our chalk mural saying “Are they allowed to use that word?” The answer is actually, yes we can. We purposely use “queer” in the title of our film festival because today it has a reclaimed and empowering connotation. While “queer” was used in the late 19th century as a derogatory term, its meaning has shifted in recent decades. In the late 1980’s the activist group Queer Nation used queer in its title as a positive depiction, and since then LGBTQ activists and scholars have followed suit and adopted it. In academia the word “queer” works as an umbrella term for gender and sexual minorities in general—gay, lesbian, bisexual, agender, transgender, questioning, intersex, asexual, pansexual, demisexual and everyone else in between! Some people identify as “queer” because they don’t feel like their sexuality and gender expression can be categorized by a single label.

Here at Eau Queer Film Festival, we wear our label with pride. To us, “queer” is all the letters in LGBTQ, and gets at both gender and sexual fluidity. That’s why this year’s theme is “Beyond Binaries.” Inherently, “queer” is not a binary; it allows for a range of underrepresented sexual and gender identities. Our quest this year was to bring films that go Beyond Binaries of gender identity (man and woman), gender expression (masculine and feminine), biological sex (female and male), and sexual orientation (homosexual and heterosexual), and instead represent the entire spectrum. We look forward to talking to you about all that is “queer” on September 30th —October 4th.

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The closing night romantic comedy offers a scenic finale to the film festival. That’s Not Us follows three couples in their twenties – gay, lesbian, and straight – through a weekend respite in Fire Island, New York. The actors improvised much of the script in rehearsals before filming over eight days. This immersion into the script moves it from a predictable comedy to a heartfelt story.

That’s Not Us takes an unflinching look at relationship challenges, such as keeping their love lives going, dealing with a partner’s acceptance into graduate school, and trying to balance competitive egos. This bittersweet comedy allows the audience to connect with its characters on a personal level.

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Look at our amazing staff! We are so excited for you guys to see all the work we have done. Make sure to come see the festival from September 30th-October 4th!

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Due to unforeseen circumstances that necessitated dropping Love Island from our film lineup, we are pleased to announce That’s Not Us, a cute romantic comedy, directed by William Sullivan, as our closing night film at 7 pm on Sunday, October 4th!

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Last year’s EQFF schedule had a huge void—i.e. the student documentary shorts program, which has sometimes been the largest draw of all our screenings. Since its conception six years ago, one of the purposes of EQFF has been to showcase UWEC student work from the LGBTQA Studies: San Francisco Travel Seminar. However, in 2014 the travel seminar was on a one-year hiatus, and thus, there was no student short program.

I am delighted that this year the student shorts program, which I consider to be the lifeblood of the festival, will return in full force. Titled “After Marriage”, these three short films grapple with a major question consuming queer activists right now: “What do we focus on now that same sex marriage is the law of the land?”

TLGB, directed by James Ebben, Emily Monka, and Helen White, offers trans rights as the answer to this question—noting how even within the queer community, trans issues are often ignored. Seeking Shelter, directed by Rose Mish, Mike Rea, and Cori Tosch, argues that we need to rally around resolving the crisis of LGBTQ homelessness in San Francisco, one of the most expensive cities in which to live in the United States. Pride! Pride?, directed by Lisa Krawczyk, Hunter Mattison, and Nancy Vang, offers a critical look at marriage and the capitalism of Pride parades as too assimilationist.

Truly, our students’ documentaries are politically savvy and thought provoking! We hope you will support these local filmmakers at this exciting premiere. After Marriage will screen at 4 pm on Friday, October 2nd in the Woodland Theatre of Davies Center. All films are no cost to attend, and free popcorn will be provided.

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We had a great turn out at BOB and we hope to see you all at the film festival!

Here’s a link to our website, Facebook, and Twitter!

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Mission Statement:

Our festival celebrates the diversity of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer/questioning (LGBTQ) communities through screening and discussing riveting documentaries, awe-inspiring features, quirky comedies, and shorts. We embrace difference, promote equality, challenge and educate through the powerful medium of film.

We are pleased to return for our 6th annual Eau Queer Film Festival (EQFF)! This this year’s film festival theme, Beyond Binaries, offers films that challenge the dichotomous norms of gender and sexuality otherwise found in mainstream cinema.

As we approach the festival we will post snippets about the festival’s films, and keep you in the loop about the daily schedule. The 2015 Eau Queer Film Festival will take place September 30th through October 4th at the University of Wisconsin - Eau Claire in Davies Center’s Woodland Theater. All films and discussions are free for students, staff, faculty and community members.

Here are links to some of our other social media outlets: Facebook and Twitter

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Film Critique: Summer of Sangaile

Image: Summer of Sangaile promotional materials

Summer of Sangaile: Dir. Alanté Kavaïté, 2015

by Lisa Krawczyk & Cori Tosch

Summer of Sangaile is a raw and emotionally-stirring film set in Lithuania. The main character is a seventeen year-old  woman, and the namesake of the film, Sangaile. The film opens on a large airfield, where the camera follows a small aircraft that spirals through the sky. The speedy transitions between the flagrant camera angles and positions are purposefully disorienting. When Sangaile gets the chance to fly, the camera joins her in the cockpit, focusing on her reactions to the twists and turns. This enables the viewer to physically feel the symptoms of Sangaile’s condition, and allows them to place themselves within her shoes.

The train of the film is driven by Sangaile’s love for flying. The excessively long introduction is a clear indication of the importance that stunt flying will partake in this film. Stunt flying is a somehwat reckless activity, which parallels well with Sangaile’s devil-may-care personality. Auste’s introduction is crucial to pushing the train forward in the same way that her participation in Sangaile’s arc was. When Sangaile hits the peak of her character arc, that is when the train may also be pushed forth, and the story finally reaches a point that demands the interest of the viewers.

The audience is almost immediately aware of the juxtaposition between Sangaile and Auste from the beginning scene. Sangaile seems to be more plain, which is seen in her appearance and her room. Sangaile’s room isn’t adorned with many things, while Auste’s room is vibrant and full of character. Their appearance also has a striking difference, paralleling their rooms; this is apparent to the audience from the first scene when the characters are introduced and although the audience doesn’t really know what’s going on we can see the juxtaposition in character and appearance.

The camera angles are chosen specifically to forward the themes of nature and strength (or lack there of). Sangaile’s name means strength according to the film; this also furthers the juxtaposition of Sanguile and Auste. This film also uses good camera angles of smoke coming from the stunt planes. This music this film uses is fitting; although, the music--almost jarringly--comes to a stop without any fade or transition. This seems to further the artistic nature of the film.

Auste, Sangaile’s lover, seems to allow the audience to see Sangaile in a more raw light; Sangaile’s character is not transparent at first glance. Sangaile is raw and emotional but we see Sangaile’s motives from Auste’s interactions with Sangaile and that allows the audience to become invested in this film. Sangaile’s interactions with her mother also shows the tumultuous relationship of her family life.

Within this film, there are many sexual innuendos and symbols. Seashells, flour, sand, a stuffed beaver–all these objects are used in this film for sexual imagery between Sangaile and Auste. Additionally, this movie plays well into new queer cinema because their relationship is unapologetic and the focus of the film. It’s matter-of-factly and the audience is engrossed by the relationship. The intimate moments on screen are well-established and well-executed.

While this film may have been difficult for some folks to watch, it was definitely very eye-catching and aesthetically-appealing. It was the kind of story that has rarely been told, though it is difficult to say whether or not it was an accurate depiction of individuals who are involved in this kind of situation in the real world.

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Film Critique: From This Day Forward

Image: From This Day Forward promotional materials

From This Day Forward: Dir. Sharon Shattuck, 2015

by Emily Monka & Nancy Vang

In Sharon Shattuck’s feature length documentary From This Day Forward, the audience experiences a whirlwind of different emotions. We watch as the family grows and dynamics change when their father comes out as transgender and begins to transition. The cinematography makes the viewer feel as though they experiencing the trials and tribulations of the Shattuck experience alongside them via the use of handheld camera and intimate, tell-all interviews.

Seeing as my (Emily) film is on trans folks and their experiences I was immediately drawn to this film knowing that it involved a family and how their dynamics changed once Trisha came out as transgender. Going in, I was a bit skeptical, I was not really sure what to expect from this documentary, but once Trisha came on the screen I was entranced. Trisha and her family’s dynamics and love for each other was something worth aspiring toward, and the way the Shattucks charmed the audience was magical. What attracted me (Nancy) to this film was the fact that is was a documentary. I expected this film to be like other films with actors and having a direct storyline with an ending; however, this one captured the true moments of Trisha and her family that probably couldn’t have been recreated by actors. This film exceeded our expectations and was especially significant for us considering it was made in the midwest. 

In this feature-length documentary there are multiple trains that could be seen within the length of the film, such as, family dynamic, art/spiritually, identity, overall self expression. We can see the family dynamic from the start with the use of the old clips from family videos to pictures of them all together. Art and spirituality was obviously very important to Trisha with the amount of work we were shown throughout the film. These powerful images drove the story forward and tugged at the heartstrings of those watching it. Identity and self-expression were especially important for this film given that it was telling the story of a transwoman. Despite what the media might tells us about trans folks, Trisha did not act traditionally feminine or masculine; gender expression is fluid for some folks, and this film did an excellent job of showing this truth.

For having a somewhat limited budget, the production values were notable. The film also inter-spliced actual clips back when they were younger, along with scenes with Trisha filming with the hand held camera, although the camera was a slightly shaky while Trisha was filming with the hand held camera, and then the camera for filming the rest of the documentary. For lighting they seemed to have used natural lighting versus studio lighting, which I feel added to the family video feel of the entire film. The sequencing went quite well; it moved in a fast-paced manner that kept the audience intrigued. The director kept the film going in order as events went on–as well as mixing in bits of their modern life within these old clips.

So far, this film has been my (Emily) favorite film of the ten films I have seen; the emotional vulnerability was what really drew me in and made me connect with those that were on the screen. Compared to other films that I have seen so far, I (Nancy) would have to say that this film has been just as good, maybe a little better. I really enjoyed how this film was able to capture a snippet of Trisha’s life and her personality. 

From This Day Forward captivated the audience’s attention through its inspiring story of Trish’s transition. This film could touch the hearts of many people–queer or not, and would be a great film to bring to the Eau Queer Film Festival, especially given that its midwestern story will resonate with our audience in particular. Keep an eye out for this film at Eau Queer!

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Film Critique: Tab Hunter Confidential

Image: Warner Bros Entertainment

Tab Hunter Confidential: Dir. Jeffrey Schwarz, 2015

by Helen White and Mike Rea

We had very few preconceived notions about this film, as we did not know much about the person for whom it is titled. However, we were very excited to learn about him and his legacy, and how being a closeted person in the public eye may have changed in recent decades. This film allowed us to learn about this 1950s teen heartthrob through a queer lens.

The train of this film followed Tab Hunter’s experiences in Hollywood as a closeted gay man. The opening scene established the time period as one that was not welcoming to queer folks and then detailed the events of Tab Hunter’s acting career, as well as personal life. The arc of this film was debatably either the death of his brother or the beginning of his relationship with Allan. With the death of his brother, Tab left the acting business and focused on caring for his mother, which altered his career path significantly. However, his relationship with Allan created a resurgence in his acting career. Ultimately, he settled down to live with Allan and began to enjoy “being forgotten.”

It can be difficult in documentaries to discuss cinematography, as much of this film in particular was talking heads and floating stills of Tab Hunter in his prime days as an actor and universal object of desire of teenage girls everywhere. The editors of this film made an attempt at making the photographs and graphics more interesting by layering them and giving them a 3D effect. However, much of the film was b-roll, close-up head shots of interviewees, and archival footage of Tab Hunter’s early career.

The documentary discussed New Queer Cinema in that it talked about briefly the first queer character in the film industry, the implied gay character, whose sexuality is never referred to or discussed. Tab Hunter’s career also led him very briefly into the New Queer Cinema movement in his interactions with Divine and the movie Lust in the Dust.

The film’s production quality was good. The close-up head shots were a good balance of sharp in the foreground and blurred in the background with good lighting. Otherwise, the footage of old photos and videos were presented well. Pictures of Tab Hunter and other persons were often presented as actual pictures in the shot as opposed to being the entire shot, and were often slightly animated to give a more original, interesting feel to them. For example, there were multiple times that the main person in the picture was placed into the ‘foreground’ of the shot and highlighted while the rest of the photo was placed in the ‘background’ of the shot and slightly off-colored. While this was technique fairly unique, it wasn’t enough to classify the production quality as excellent or innovational.

The movie was ultimately not highly interesting for a young, queer audience. It was a good story for an audience who had previously watched Tab Hunter’s films, but it was not very enticing for a new audience.

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Film Critique: Those People

Image: Those People promotional materials

Those People, Dir. Joey Kuhn, 2015

by James Ebben & Hunter Mattison

Director Joey Kuhn’s feature length film Those People told the story a young gay man in New York that struggles to decide between his childhood love and his more mature, new romantic interest. Kuhn aimed to show that the film focused on the main character, Charlie, finding himself in the world around him rather than telling another coming out story. Kuhn drew inspiration from his own love life, the Bernie Madoff embezzlement scandal, and the novel Brideshead Revisited. The title “Those People” was chosen as a means of bringing attention to members of our population that we don’t often speak of, however, the rich are discussed pretty regularly within our culture.

As a coming of age story, it’s particularly interesting that this love takes place only over the course of a three-month period. Charlie’s art throughout the film grows with each love interest as he defines himself through them. The first example of this is his painting of Sebastian, the depiction of a manic pixie dream boy with whom Charlie fell in love at the age of 11. As the story continues, another love interest enters the picture, and Charlie is forced to choose between the two–a common idea in any story with romantic elements, whether it be heterosexual or not.

Notable cinematography includes the lighting being saturated indoors while significantly less so outdoors. Indoor lighting was reserved for sentimental feelings, and the pivotal parts of the plot occurred inside with warm lighting. Lack of contrast removed the potential for emotional moments outdoors and keeps the mood hidden. Some scenes that occurred outdoors had the potential to have heavy impact on the characters emotions but the lighting distracted from that sense and made it seem closed off. The use of music was executed with much tact, giving the film its own unique sound and becoming an integral part of the story through which Charlie was able to find love and grow as a human being. Charlie’s growth was seen throughout the film through his interaction with others, but his dress began to mirror that as the more he began to open up, he began to loosen the buttons of his shirts more and more.

The train aims to tell a story of both love and loss and how the two are often closely related in helping to bring to people closer. Throughout Those People, we’re able to identify an arc as everyone’s right to deserve to find love. Throughout our lives we face many obstacles and lose love, but that doesn’t mean that anyone is undeserving.

The two love interests represent two very different socioeconomic backgrounds. Sebastian is filthy rich and his emotions always seem rather misleading or hidden away while Tim has a hard time finding a stable job as a piano man, but he is ultimately the most transparent character of the film. The director may be making a statement about the luxuries that someone with Sebastian’s background has by possessing the option to not be straight-forward with his family and friends. His privilege comes across strong, almost in a campy way.

Through one particular part of the film, the Castro audience reacted very negatively to a cultural depiction that Kuhn placed within the film. When addressed during the Q&A session, he seemed to be ultimately dismissive in saying that he was sorry it was taken the wrong way, but not apologizing for the poor decision and lack of tact involved. As budget was approached through an audience question, Kuhn revealed that they spent a small amount of money compared to some of the other films we have seen at Frameline 39. The sets and costumes were executed beautifully, and as such, the film did not give off a low budget impression in the slightest. This is one of the best films at Frameline so far, and we will definitely look into programming it for Eau Queer Film Festival this fall. 

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Film Critique: Liz in September

Top Image: Liz in September promotional materials; Bottom image: ©Rose Mish 2015

Liz in September: Dir. Fina Torres, 2015

by Lisa Krawczyk & Cori Tosch

Liz in September is a Spanish language film focusing on a dynamic cast of lesbian characters who live on a beach in Venezuela. This is the first lesbian film coming out of Venezuela, gaining interest of the audience off of that fact alone. Despite having subtitles and having a medium pace, the film is engaging throughout. The beautiful Venezuelan scenery is used to establish the romantic tone of the film. Additionally, mindful choices of music and the flashback in the beginning in which Liz says“when you remember me, you will remember me floating,” and using a consistent theme of numbers and counting (especially of days). This movie allows the audience to think about mortality in a subtle way with the use of poetic internal thoughts of Liz while Eva is being introduced.

Directed by Fina Torres, the film has an airy, dreamy feel that entices the viewer. It is an ethereal romance and deserves a spot in this year’s Eau Queer Film Festival–especially considering its landmark status as a queer Venezuelan film.

The lighting in this film evokes the beauty of the setting. For instance, in the opening scene when Liz is floating in the water and the camera is aimed upwards at her, the sun shines brightly behind her silhouette, which shows that she is relaxed and comfortable being in the water. Another lighting technique that had been used was when Liz and Eva were speaking about Liz’s inevitable death. The light shines brightly on Eva, but a shadow overcomes Liz’s profile.

A detail that changes throughout the movie is Eva’s tank top; when Eva is introduced she is wearing all white and surrounded by white. Then, red juice is spilled on her tank top, using foreshadowing. Throughout the movie, her tank top gets more off-white eventually getting to a grey-blue color; this is paralleling Liz’s comment about how things are rarely black and white and usually situations are somewhere in the middle. This shows Eva’s spectrum of sexuality and how she leaves her husband in the end.

The music also is used thoughtfully during the film, nearly to a fault; meaning, it gets too intense, to the point it takes the audience out of the movie. Though most of the instrumentals are great with piano emphasis and strings, there are times when it gets to be too much.

While Liz is ostensibly the main character of this film, both she and Eva have important arcs. Even though they are adults, they still have a lot of growing to do. Eva is first portrayed as heterosexual. However, there is one small indication that she may be something more than that- that is, when she and Liz are on the dock, the camera focuses on Eva’s face as she casts a downward eye and checks Liz out from behind. The rest of the film is essentially a romantic build between the two main characters. In Liz’s case, it is clear that she keeps to herself and does not reveal too much about her past. She remains somewhat narcissistic in the film, and maintains a sense of humor that draws away from the seriousness of her tragic situation.

The train of this film is really pushed on by the fact that Liz and Eva have a chemistry that leads the audience to want to know what happens to these characters. The bet between Liz and her friend about getting Eva into bed initiates the film’s train. By doing this, the audience knows that it will be noted upon later in the film. The film also involves the audience's emotion by acknowledging Liz and Eva’s history. That is, the death of Eva’s son, Tommy, and the indication of Liz’s illness from the beginning.

This movie uses a lot of flashbacks and flash forwards; nearly to the point where the audience gets confused as to what happens when. This makes time very confusing to follow for the audience. However problematic, this movie lends multiple watches as a result.

The audience reception seemed very active–everyone seemed to laugh at the comedic scenes; though, most of the time everyone was silent, seemingly engrossed in the film. 

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Film Critique: I Am Michael

Top Image: I Am Michael promotional materials; bottom image ©Ellen Mahaffy 2015

I Am Michael: Dir. Justin Kelly, 2015

by Rose Mish & Ryan Spaight

Justin Kelly’s debut feature, I Am Michael, examines the intersection of religious fundamentalism and queer identity in a cinematographically-innovative style that captured the attention of queer film giant Gus Van Sant (Milk, 2008)—who held a producer credit in the film. Based on a true story, the film’s namesake, Michael Glatze (James Franco), starts the film as a gay activist/writer for XY Magazine.

There is no disputing that I Am Michael is a captivating, thoughtfully-produced film, but the Frameline programming committee’s selection of the film as the opening night feature left us feeling cheated. Coming to the world’s largest queer film festival and seeing a film that could even conceivably validate gay conversion contradicts the mission of Frameline. Ultimately, this is a film about a white, cisgender man, who used his influence as an activist and writer to hurt the queer community—hardly the sort of cutting-edge, new queer cinema we might expect from Frameline when there are so many other queer stories that go untold.

The exposition of the film flashes forward to a scene that would be repeated near the conclusion—bookending the film with a medium shot of a gay teen being “counseled” by Michael to subvert his homosexuality. Shallow depth of field, focusing on the teen and obscuring Michael from view, as well as low-key lighting set a dark and unnerving tone for the scene. This creates an inextricable conflict between Michael’s backstory of gay advocacy and his eventual renunciation of his own gay identity, and leaves the audience wondering how these apparent contradictions will be reconciled through the ensuing plot of the film.

A juxtaposition is created as we flash back ten years earlier to Michael living in the heart of the Castro. The low-key lighting is replaced by high-key, outdoor shots of the Castro—met with cheers from the San Franciscan audience. Likewise, the aforementioned religious Michael is replaced by a fiery activist who believes “Christian fundamentalists should burn in hell.”  

Enraged by the 1998 murder of Matthew Shepard in Wyoming, Michael and his partners Bennett (Zachary Quinto) and Tyler (Charlie Carver) set out to make a film about gay youth. Kelly utilizes avant garde film techniques—blending three layers of narrative: grainy footage from Michael Glatze’s real-life documentary Jim In Bold; handheld camerawork of characters Michael, Bennett, and Tyler working on the project; and studio-produced, omniscient camera—focusing on Michael’s reaction to key events. Toward the end of this montage, Michael interviews a student at a conservative school; the interview is interrupted by a distraught girl whose mother had just died. As the students counsel and pray for her, there is a pensive reactionary shot that visually marks the beginning of Michael’s internal struggle with death and spirituality.  

Worried that he might be afflicted by the same fatal heart condition his father had, Michael develops panic attacks and becomes obsessed with the idea that he could die at any moment—a clear reference to the feelings of paranoia and uncertainty rampant in queer communities during the AIDS crisis. Panic attacks were depicted musically with an insistent jabbing pulse in the style of electronic musique concrete—increasing in texture and volume as the panic attack worsened. At the culmination of these panic attacks, we find Michael naked in the shower, crying under low-key lighting in the fetal position, hands clasped together in prayer—an evocative symbol for his baptism and the arc of the film.

Ironically, Michael diverges from the queer world and heads to Wyoming of all places; he is quoted reading from the Book of Matthew—a subtle and poignant nod to the murder of Matthew Shepard in Laramie, Wyoming, a murder that Michael cared deeply about as a gay activist. Justin Kelly is trying to draw attention to this disconnect and ask how someone can forget about—or worse, stop caring about—hate crimes fueled by religious intolerance.

I am Michael is a ruminative film with high production values and a star-studded cast; it raises important questions about how queer people are affected by and participate in religion. It is a film to possibly consider bringing back to Eau Queer, but we also need to be deliberate in who we are giving a voice to. Our programming committee will undoubtedly be picking through I am Michael with a fine-tooth comb.

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Hello, friends of Eau Queer Film Festival:

My name is Ryan Spaight, and I am the Director of the sixth annual Eau Queer Film Festival set to run from September 30 to October 4 on the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire campus.

Here at Eau Queer, we are privileged to have the support of our university, which affords us the opportunity to scout films at one of largest and longest running queer film festivals in the world: Frameline International’s 39th LGBT Film Festival in San Francisco.  

Tomorrow I, alongside nine other students, will fly to San Francisco as part of the LGBTQA Studies intercultural immersion seminar taught by associate professor of Communication and Journalism Ellen Mahaffy and associate professor of Sociology and chair Pam Forman.  

These nine students will direct three films about LGBT issues with relevance to San Francisco. During their twelve-day stay they will interview activists, policymakers, and people at LGBTQ Pride events, and conduct archival research. Their documentary shorts will premiere at the Eau Queer Film Festival this fall.

We will post critiques of movies we screen at Frameline—many of which are drumming up press, such as the opening night film, I Am Michael (Justin Kelly, dir. 2015) starring James Franco.  

The purpose of this blog will piggyback off of our overarching mission to create a community around queer film in Eau Claire. We want to share the highlights of what we’re seeing with the folks back home, and we hope you’re on board to follow us.

I’m excited to see how this summer’s slate of queer films will stack up against the great films we have screened at UW-Eau Claire in the past. Thank you for staying tuned!

[eqff]

Coming Up...

Thanks for the Space-tacular turnouts at Out in the Night on Wednesday, as well as Kumu Hina and The Way He Looks yesterday.

Coming at you at MAXIMUM WARP tonight (click the film titles for more detailed descriptions and content warnings):

Queer Insights (3pm): Made by festival executive directors Pam Forman and Ellen Mahaffy, this work-in-progess film takes a look at the transformational power of immersion courses in queer cinema at UW - Eau Claire.

BFFs (6pm): A great comedy about two friends who go on a couples retreat to get a free vacation, and find that they are closer than they previously imagined.

Futuro Beach (8pm): A visually striking film about one of the most dangerous beaches of Brazil that brings a lifegaurd and a German motorcyclist together. 

We hope to see you tonight! May the Queer be with you!

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The Fifth Annual Eau Queer Film Festival will take place September 24th through the 28th at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire in Davies Center’s Woodland Theater. All films and discussion sessions are free to attend.   

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