Arts & Entertainment
Not so cut and dried
San Francisco-based author writes of gender struggles
‘Nina Here nor There: My Journey Beyond Gender’
Nick Krieger
Beacon Press
202 pages
$15
You’ve always hated your nose.
It sticks out too much. Or it’s too small. Or your ears make you look like you’re part elephant. Or your lips are too pouty, your thighs too big, your arms too fat, you hate your butt.
You can change all of the above and then some.
But would you have the courage to alter the very things that define you to the rest of society? In the new book “Nina Here nor There” by Nick Krieger, you’ll see why one young man did.
When writer-blogger Nina Krieger landed in San Francisco’s Castro district, she felt welcomed.
Her lesbian friends, the “A-gays,” folded her into their circle with parties. Old pals were glad to see Krieger and she was glad to find an apartment with roommates she could tolerate. She even found a job that allowed her to continue writing.
But Kreiger wasn’t happy. For years, she’d struggled with gender identity: she was not a lesbian, not exactly a woman but yet – she was. Being in The Castro gave her hope, though, and unwittingly, she had surrounded herself with people who could give her guidance.
Greg, with his newly flat chest and eagerness for life, was willing to share his experiences with surgery and testosterone shots. Jess, one of Kreiger’s roommates, was transitioning and taught Kreiger about “packing” and binding. Zippy, a long-time friend, gave optimistic support.
“Before moving to the Castro, I’d thought becoming a man was as realistic as growing wings,” Kreiger writes.
But living “with her community” gave Kreiger the courage to try. Deciding that breasts were the worst part of who she was, Kreiger bought minimizers and purchased the other body parts she lacked. Little by little, she allowed her family careful peeks into the person she knew herself to be. She “convinced” herself that she belonged, yet she was uneasy. What exists between girl and boy?
“I didn’t fully relate to either anymore,” Kreiger writes.
Despite a fear of needles, unfazed by a list of realities and heartbroken by a paternal lack of understanding, Kreiger knew she had to find out.
“Nina Here nor There” is a bit of a conundrum. On one side, author Nick Kreiger takes his readers by the hand, allowing us to see what he sees. As Kreiger explores the gender spectrum, we do too. At the same time he’s seeing the blurred lines of woman and not-woman, we see it as well. The journey is a good one, shared.
Toward the end of the book, one begins to relate to the frustration the author is feeling as we, too, yearn for resolution. Continuing becomes a bit of a struggle as we begin to relate to the push-pull Kreiger feels. Arriving at the denouement comes as a relief. The book is a captivating fresh take on the fluidity of gender to which many LGBTs will relate.
Movies
Theater classic gets sapphic twist in provocative ‘Hedda’
A Black, queer portrayal of thwarted female empowerment
It’s not strictly necessary to know anything about Henrik Ibsen when you watch “Hedda” – the festival-acclaimed period drama from filmmaker Nia DaCosta, now streaming on Amazon Prime Video after a brief theatrical release in October – but it might help.
One of three playwrights – alongside Anton Chekhov and August Strindberg – widely cited as “fathers of “modern theater,” the Norwegian Ibsen was sharply influenced by the then-revolutionary science of of psychology. His works were driven by human motivations rather than the workings of fate, and while some of the theories that inspired them may now be outdated, the complexity of his character-driven dramas can be newly interpreted through any lens – which is why he is second only to Shakespeare as the most-frequently performed dramatist in the world.
Arguably his most renowned play, “Hedda Gabler” provides the basis for DaCosta’s movie. The tale of a young newlywed – the daughter of a prominent general, accustomed to a life of luxury and pleasure – who feels trapped as the newly wedded wife of George Tesman, a respected-but-financially-insecure academic, and stirs chaos in an attempt to secure a future she doesn’t really want. Groundbreaking when it premiered in 1891, it became one of the classic “standards” of modern theater, with its title role coveted and famously interpreted by a long list of the 20th century’s greatest female actors – and yes, it’s been adapted for the screen multiple times.
The latest version – DaCosta’s radically reimagined reframing, which moves the drama’s setting from late-19th-century Scandinavia to England of the 1950s – keeps all of the pent-up frustration of its title character, a being of exceptional intelligence and unconventional morality, but adds a few extra layers of repressed “otherness” that give the Ibsen classic a fresh twist for audiences experiencing it more than a century later.
Casting Black, openly queer performer Tessa Thompson in the iconic title role, DaCosta’s film needs go no further to introduce new levels of relevance to a character that is regarded as one of the theater’s most searing portrayals of thwarted female empowerment – but by flipping the gender of another important character, a former lover who is now the chief competition for a job that George (Tom Bateman) is counting on obtaining, it does so anyway.
Instead of the play’s Eilert Lövborg, George’s former colleague and current competition for lucrative employment, “Hedda” gives us Eileen (Nina Hoss), instead, who carries a deep and still potent sexual history – underscored to an almost comical level by the ostentationally buxom boldness of her costume design – which presents a lot of options for exploitation in Hedda’s quest for self-preservation; these are even further expanded by the presence of Thea (Imogen Poots), another of Hedda’s former flings who has now become enmeshed with Eileen, placing a volatile sapphic triangle in the middle of an already delicate situation.
Finally, compounding the urgency of the story’s precarious social politics, DaCosta compresses the play’s action into a single evening, the night of Hedda and George’s homecoming party – in the new and expensive country house they cannot afford – as they return from their honeymoon. There, surrounded by and immersed in an environment where bourgeois convention and amoral debauchery exist in a precarious but socially-sanctioned balance, Hedda plots a course which may ultimately be more about exacting revenge on the circumstances of a life that has made her a prisoner as it is about protecting her husband’s professional prospects.
Sumptuously realized into a glowing and nostalgic pageant of bad behavior in the upper-middle-class, “Hedda” scores big by abandoning Ibsen’s original 19th-century setting in favor of a more recognizably modern milieu in which “color-blind” casting and the queering of key relationships feel less implausible than they might in a more faithful rendering. Thompson’s searingly nihilistic performance – her Hedda is no dutiful social climber trying to preserve a comfortable life, but an actively rebellious presence sowing karmic retribution in a culture of hypocrisy, avarice, and misogyny – recasts this proto-feminist character in such a way that her willingness to burn down the world feels not only authentic, but inevitable. Tired of being told she must comply and cooperate, she instead sets out to settle scores and shift the balance of power in her favor, and if her tactics are ruthless and seemingly devoid of feminine compassion, it’s only because any such sentimentality has long been eliminated from her worldview. Valued for her proximity to power and status rather than her actual possession of those qualities, in DaCosta’s vision of her story she seems to willingly deploy her position as a means to rebel against a status quo that keeps her forever restricted from the self-realized autonomy she might otherwise deserve, and thanks to the tantalizingly cold fire Thompson brings to the role, we are hard-pressed not to root for her, even when her tactics feel unnecessarily cruel.
As for the imposition of queerness effected by making Eilert into Eileen, or the additional layers of implication inevitably created by this Hedda’s Blackness, these elements serve to underscore a theme that lies at the heart of Ibsen’s play, in which the only path to prosperity and social acceptance lies in strict conformity to social norms; while Hedda’s race and unapologetic bisexuality feel largely accepted in the private environment of a party among friends, we cannot help but recognize them as impediments to surviving and thriving in the society by which she is constrained, and it makes the slow-bubbling desperation of her destructive character arc into a tragedy with a personal ring for anyone who has ever felt like an outsider in their own inner circle, simply by virtue of who they are.
Does it add anything of value to Ibsen’s iconic work? Perhaps not, though the material is certainly rendered more expansive in scope and implication by the inclusion of race and sexuality to the already-stacked deck of class hierarchy that lies at the heart of the play; there are times when these elements feel like an imposition, a “what-if?” alternate narrative that doesn’t quite gel with the world it portrays and ultimately seems irrelevant in the way it all plays out – though DaCosta’s ending does offer a sliver of redemptive hope that Ibsen denies his Hedda. Still, her retooling of this seminal masterwork does not diminish its greatness, and it allows for a much-needed spirit of inclusion which deepens its message for a diverse modern audience.
Anchored by Thompson’s ferocious performance, and the electricity she shares with co-star Hoss, “Hedda” makes for a smart, solid, and provocative riff on a classic cornerstone of modern dramatic storytelling; enriched by a sumptuous scenic design and rich cinematography by Sean Bobbitt, it may occasionally feel more like a Shonda Rhimes-produced tale of sensationalized scandal and “mean-girl” melodrama than a timeless masterwork of World Theatre, but in the end, it delivers a powerful echo of Ibsen’s classic that expands to accommodate a whole century’s worth of additional yearning.
Besides, how often do we get to see a story of blatant lesbian attraction played out with such eager abandon in a relatively mainstream movie? Answer: not often enough, and that’s plenty reason for us to embrace this queered-up reinvention of a classic with open arms.
Out & About
Delaware beaches ring in holidays with tree lightings
Festivities in Rehoboth preceded by a sing-along
The Rehoboth Beach annual tree lighting at the bandstand will take place at 7 p.m. on Friday, Nov. 28. Festivities are preceded by a sing-along by Clear Space Theatre beginning at 6:30 p.m.
And if you’re not tired of tree lightings at the beach, check out the annual Dewey Beach tree lighting along Rt. 1 at Fifer’s market on Saturday, Nov. 29. Festivities start at 5:30 p.m. and include local businesses offering food and drinks along with the lighting.
Out & About
DC Center announces annual Thanksgiving program
‘Our food programs are about more than just meals’
The DC Center for the LGBT Community will launch its “Annual Thanksgiving Food Program” on Thursday, Nov. 27.
This program, alongside several ongoing initiatives, will ensure that D.C.’s queer community has nourishment, dignity, and connection year-round. Beyond the Thanksgiving holiday, the Center continues its commitment to food access through several vital programs.
The Free Food Pantry, supported by Wegmans Food Market, provides shelf-stable essentials, available to anyone in need. The Food Rescue Program, in partnership with Food Rescue DC, offers ready-to-eat meals while helping to prevent food waste. In collaboration with Hungry Harvest and MicroHabitat, the Fresh Produce Program distributes seasonal fruits and vegetables weekly through a simple lottery registration. Additionally, the Farmers Market Program, in partnership with Food For Health and AHF, brings locally sourced produce directly to the community each month, promoting healthy eating and supporting local growers.
“Our food programs are about more than just meals, they’re about nourishment, connection, and care,” said Kimberley Bush, executive director of the DC LGBTQ+ Community Center. “In these uncertain times, we are proud to stand with our community and ensure that every person, regardless of circumstance, feels seen, supported, and fed, because everyone deserves a place at the table.”
For more information about the Thanksgiving Program or ongoing food initiatives, please visit thedccenter.org or email [email protected].
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