A historical sanctuary, a surrealist exploration of belonging, a sinister choice, a tumultuous sibling dynamic, and forging your own utopia. ‘What we Carry’ is a programme dealing with what we hold onto and what we can’t.
Somethings are difficult to carry, and too often is that our own burden to bare. Yet it is important to know when to let go.
As queer people are we allowed to let things go? We spoke to some of the filmmakers to get their opinion
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Sweetheart – Luke Wintour
In what ways is it our duty to showcase films like Sweetheart, highlighting the lives of LGBTQ+ people who came before us?
As humans we are constantly looking to tell stories of our lineage through time. Whether that be of family, ideology, identity, we have a need to understand from where we came. And yet as a queer person, your history is often very hard to find. This creates a strange sort of dislocation from time. It’s almost as though queer identities only came into existence with Stonewall, which is of course absurd. Derek Jarman talked about the importance of creating a queer lineage, connecting queer generations. Alastair and I connected very strongly with this idea.
Sweetheart_Still
As I grappled with my queer identity, I found it deeply grounding and reassuring to learn of people who had felt the same things as me across millennia. It created a framework in which my feelings could exist proudly, whereas before they were coloured by a shameful secrecy. In Sweetheart, we see a queer subculture that so vividly resembles our own today - filled with drag, ritual, births, baptism, queens etc. Academics claim this period was the birthplace of ‘camp’. I believe that as a community we have a duty to understand our past, both to concretise our present, but also to warn of our future. We see that after 1723 a lot of liberalisation and freedom was lost. We can never know if we are living on the cusp of a U-turn in social values, and so must tell our histories to ensure we remain vigilant.
When creating Sweetheart, was it more important to present these people from the past as different or similar to LGBT+ people now?
One of the first things that struck us as we began our research was the parallels between this 300-year-old culture and our own. I would be researching about Molly marriages and rituals in the day, and I would go out to a queer bar later in the evening and see the exact same rituals being performed on stage. There is a particularly queer sense of humour and mockery which blooms from a position of ostracisation. This sensibility doesn’t appear to have changed all that much. We wanted our characters to reflect that, and seem like people who could step into a queer club of today. Our costume designer Max Allen put it brilliantly when he said that he was taught queer costume designer by someone in their 60’s who in turn was taught by someone in their 60’s - you only have to do that so many times before you arrive in the 18th century. We spoke a lot about the way period films can alienate an audience from its characters by presenting them behind a grain of film, or a room full of haze, or a pompous performance. We wanted the piece to pay respect to the detail of the period but for it to feel like it was a world you could step into. And that simultaneous thrill and agony of stepping into a queer club for the first is something that would’ve been just as true then as it is now.
Do you think we can ever truly put something down — or do we just learn to carry it differently?
If by this you mean a sort of historic queer shame, I think the answer is certainly we can put it down, yes! Or at least, I hope. I often teach film with young students. Whilst queer rights are regressing on many fronts, it’s beautiful to see a younger queer generation who appear to be increasingly open and honest about their identity. For me, a big part of my release from shame has been to engage in queer culture and learn about queer history. Shame festers in the shadows, and the more queerness can emerge from the shadows, the more shame will recede.
Find More about the Film: Sweetheart
Man Enough - Beru Tessema
How important is blood family compared to chosen family in Man Enough?
The chosen family is very important in Man Enough as this is where the central character finds his tribe, his people, a true sense of belonging, and, of course, love. The chosen family gives the central character what he needs to heal and come to terms with his blood family. Blood family is the source of pain and conflict in Man Enough. It is important in that it helps us understand the world the central character has come from and also what he needs to overcome.
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At what point - if there is one - must you let go of your family?
This is a great question. When family is unable to love you, it is at that point that one should be able to let go. Love in the sense of nurture and acceptance is essential in familial relationships, but when family is the source of shame and suffering, then I think one must let go of family and look for what they need in their chosen family.
I’m not sure we ever truly can put something down. Things impact us differently at different points in our lives, and experiences shape us. Consciously or unconsciously, things stay with us, and we just learn to carry them differently.
Do you think we can ever truly put something down — or do we just learn to carry it differently?
It’s a tricky question to answer because the idea of paradise in the film is so many different things and we also want to give the viewer space to decide what paradise is. But of course our personal experiences and ideas shaped paradise so we can touch on what it means for us personally.
Find More about the Film: Man Enough
Two Black Boys in Paradise – Baz Sells
(Answers by Ben Jackson, Producer of the film)
Do you think the idea of paradise presented can ever be found or is it more symbolic?
I struggled a lot with self-acceptance, and didn’t come out until I was 30. Every time I got the opportunity to make a wish, if I saw a shooting star, when I blow out candles; I would wish to be straight. This led me to battling depression most of my 20s. Even after I came out and got a boyfriend, self-acceptance was still a journey, the more I learned to accept myself the more joy and love entered my life. So that was my personal journey of finding paradise. But even still it’s not a constant state of being, my own thoughts, and external forces can intrude and it takes constantly practicing self-love and self-acceptance to keep that personal paradise a part of my reality. I’m pleased to say I would never dream of wishing away my sexuality now, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Still - Two Black Boys in Paradise
Would you say Two Black Boys in Paradise is a story more focused on holding on or letting go?
I would say both equally. Letting go of the thoughts that you don’t deserve to be happy, that you don’t deserve love. And holding on or embracing the parts of you that make you who you are, but that you buried deep inside.
Do you think we can ever truly put something down — or do we just learn to carry it differently?
I lived my entire school life under Section 28. It was abolished the year after I finished my A-levels. I hadn’t even heard of section 28 until around 10 years ago when I started opening myself up more to queer culture, but not knowing about it still majorly shaped my life and my struggles with self-acceptance. But those struggles also led to me wanting to make this film. I felt like making a queer film would force me to speak more openly and proudly about my sexuality. So it became an exercise of self-acceptance, and it continues to be as we put the film out into the world. And so the pain and struggle of my 20s has led to something beautiful as I channel the energy around it into something positive and full of joy. It doesn’t mean the scars aren’t still there, but I carry them proudly.
Find more about the film: Two Black Boys in Paradise
