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Winslet, Ronan have seaside rendezvous in ‘Ammonite’

Lesbian love story requires effort to extract its treasures



Ammonite, gay news, Washington Blade
Saoirse Ronan and Kate Winslet in ‘Ammonite.’ (Photo courtesy of NEON)

Before sitting down to watch “Ammonite,” the new film from writer/director Francis Lee, it might be helpful to know a little bit about the history of paleontology – specifically, about a woman named Mary Anning.

Anning grew up in a poor family in Lyme Regis, a town on the English Channel, where she helped with the family business of selling fossils from the region’s geologically rich beaches and cliffsides to the many tourists attracted by its seaside resorts. At the age of 12, she found what would eventually become the first correctly identified full skeleton of a marine dinosaur known as an ichthyosaur; it was a breakthrough discovery that played a major role in reshaping the way scientists (and the rest of the world) understood prehistoric life on earth, and she would not only go on to make several more important finds, but to contribute significantly to the scientific study of the subject.

Unfortunately for Mary, she also lived in the 19th century. That meant that, as a woman, though she was widely known and respected for her discoveries, she was not eligible for membership in the Geographical Society of London or any of the other respected bodies of the scientific community; as a result, credit for her findings was often co-opted by the men who consulted her and bought her specimens, and she continued to toil away in near-anonymity, selling fossils and trinkets out of her seaside shop, for much of her life.

Today, Anning gets something much closer to the recognition she deserved in the scientific record. To the world at large, however, her name remains mostly unknown; but, thanks to Lee (whose 2017 debut feature “God’s Own Country” was acclaimed by critics as one of the best queer films in recent memory), that is about to change – though perhaps not solely for the reason she might have preferred.

In “Ammonite,” we are introduced to Mary Anning (Kate Winslet) years after that sensational childhood find, living out her days in near-debilitating poverty with her elderly mother (Gemma Jones), still harvesting fossils from the beach. Hard and sullen, she barely bothers to conceal her misanthropy from the tourists who come into her shop, and maintains a near-reclusive distance from residents of the town. The drudgery of her existence begins to change, however, when a “gentleman scientist” offers to pay her handsomely to act as a companion for his wife, Charlotte (Saoirse Ronan), who suffers from “melancholia,” while he is away on an expedition. Unable to refuse the financial boost, she grudgingly accepts, and though their relationship gets off to a difficult start, it soon becomes clear that these two sidelined women are awakening to something between them that has always been denied in a world where their parameters are defined solely by men.

It should be no spoiler to clarify that this premise is the set-up for a lesbian romance, played out against a picturesque period backdrop and full of the kind of forbidden, subversive eroticism that seems to come so naturally from the intricate process of unfastening old-fashioned garments. Lee’s movie derives much from all these environmental factors and more as it tells a deceptively simple story about two seemingly complex women who really are only looking for perhaps the most basic need of all; but unlike many such historical tales of furtive and forbidden love, it does not rely solely on the trappings and tropes of romantic fiction, and rather uses them only as a canvas for a studied, near-hypnotic exploration of human behavior that, while it may not entirely eschew sentiment, tempers and redefines it in a way that keeps it from becoming inauthentic.

To accomplish this, Lee doubles down on the strengths that elevated “God’s Own Country” above the majority of other rural queer love stories on film. Most obvious, perhaps, is the keen sense of environment mentioned above, in which the setting takes on a role in the story itself, and the characters’ interaction with their environment and circumstances defines much of how they relate to each other throughout. The director’s meticulous approach to capturing the world of an early 18th-century oceanside village makes a viewer feel and smell the crisp sea air firsthand.

Lee’s greatest gift, however, is both more subtle and more profound, and it’s one that infuses his work both as writer and director of his work so far. Having carefully set up the circumstances of his narrative within a viscerally realistic place and time, he lets it all unfold with an almost ascetic sparseness of dialogue. What is spoken serves to illuminate little more than the necessary details that move the ostensible plot; but what is unspoken is a rich, layered, and nuanced observation of human experience that is both specific and, to most of us, alien, yet also universal and recognizable to any viewer who reads the volumes contained between the lines.

It’s that last part that might prove challenging to some viewers; “Ammonite” is the kind of movie that can easily feel slow-moving to audiences who are partial to storytelling that involves more direct action and fewer inscrutable gazes. For those who are up for it, however, the subtext that conveys the real narrative of Lee’s film – the one that charts a shared inner journey, not the external factors that surround it – is every bit as thrilling as a non-stop action blockbuster.

While the movie’s filmmaker must get full kudos for his remarkable talent in making that happen, it would be hard for him to pull it off without the help of his leading players. Winslet and Ronan are both among modern cinema’s most accomplished and versatile performers, and it’s clear they each relish the chance to take a deep dive into their skill set for these complex roles. Winslet’s dowdy, frumpish, and middle-aged Mary blossoms before our eyes to reveal the beauty that has been right in front of us all along, while Ronan’s morose, hollow Charlotte transitions into a vibrant, confident woman by her side. These inner evolutions are enacted in tandem, like a dance between two prima ballerinas, complementing and counterpointing each other in a way that seems as effortless as breathing, but is in fact the product of a lifetime of difficult work and study – with a prodigious amount of talent thrown in, of course.

It should be noted that “Ammonite” is not a biopic, nor even a true story in the sense that most of us would think; there really was a Charlotte, who was the real-life Anning’s lifelong friend and correspondent after staying with her in Lyme Regis for a few months, but beyond that, much of what Lee shows us on film is pure speculative fiction. This, of course, makes it somehow feel all the truer.

“Ammonite” is a movie which, like the fossils excavated by its characters, requires fastidious effort in order to extract its treasures. That might make it unappealing for many, but for those who have passion for the work, the payoff is well worth the labor.

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Arts & Entertainment

LGBTQ youth inspired to action by “Cured” documentary and country’s homophobic past

“Cured” documentary a revelation for LGBTQ youth



A new documentary’s archival footage of the country’s homophobic past opened the eyes of four young members of the LGBTQ+ community who were only dimly aware of the events the film describes.

“Cured,” which aired on PBS’ Independent Lens on October 11, was a revelation to the youth– who work with the D.C.-based Urban Health Media Project on multimedia health journalism. 

Some of the scenes that made an impression:

  • At a 1966 South Florida high school assembly on the evils of homosexuality, an official warns students that “if we catch you … the rest of your life will be a living hell.’’  
  • A gay psychiatrist, appearing on a 1972 American Psychiatric Association panel, is identified only as “Dr. Henry Anonymous.” He’s so afraid of reprisals that he must protect his identity by wearing a Halloween face mask and a fright wig and using a distortion mic.  
  • A series of sober, eminent psychiatrists – leaders of the profession – insist in forum after forum that homosexuality is a sickness.

For two decades, that assumption was reflected in the “Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM),” the American psychiatric profession’s official compendium of mental and brain diseases and disorders.

“Cured” tells the story of how a relatively small number of courageous gay activists got the “gays are sick” notion struck from the manual –a pivotal moment in the gay liberation movement.

“Being gay and trans myself,’’ said Hermes Falcon, “this film meant a lot to me, because it exposed me to people that I didn’t even know were part of the movement.’’

Those people included Barbara Gittings and Frank Kameny, who in the mid-1960s – when most Americans still said they feared or hated homosexuals — organized some of the first public protests against employment discrimination against gays. One depicted in “Cured”took place outside the White House.

Another early activist was Dr. John Fryer, the psychiatrist who, it later turned out, was “Dr. Anonymous.’’

 Falcon, a college freshman, also noted the tension at the heart of the story told by “Cured”: “How working together makes a big difference, but also how one person can make a big change.’’

Falcon cited the example of Fryer, who testified at the APA convention in Dallas in 1972 that anti-gay bias was hurting psychiatrists, too. At that point, the DSM’s entry 302.0, which termed homosexuality “a mental disorder,” was two decades old. Within two years of Fryer’s testimony, it had been abolished.

Another young member of the LGBTQ+ community, Adrian Gibbons, an assistant video editor at UHMP and recent college graduate, also was struck by the example of Fryer, “a real person who was risking his job to stand up for himself and the LGBTQ community.’’ His example, Gibbons said, “inspires me to fight for myself and my community, no matter the risks.’’

Gibbons noted that some trailblazers faced a harsh backlash from colleagues or family members. But he said their sacrifice was worth it, considering that “their efforts brought justice to LGBTQ people who had been injured or abused in mental institutions, and saved countless people from being put through that same torture in the future.’’

Torture is probably not too strong a word; “Cured” shows how electroshock and even lobotomy were used as elements of “conversion therapy’’ to make gay people straight.   

The early activists’ sheer courage also inspired Dillon Livingston, a high school student. The film shows, he said, that “it is imperative to remain true to yourself, even if everyone around you does not like the things that make you who you are.’’ 

Even though they faced intense discrimination and disdain, he added, the gay rights pioneers “were proud about their sexuality.’’

The four young LGBTQ+ viewers agreed that “Cured”made them more appreciative of the efforts of those who went before them, and more eager to emulate their example in the future.

As Livingston put it, “I must speak more about the queer community to inform heterosexuals about the problem we face.’’ 

Jojo Brew, an aspiring filmmaker, agreed: “All those people in the sixties and seventies fought for our rights, so it’s only fair that we continue to fight for the next generation’s rights.’’ 

“Cured” airs locally at 9 p.m. Oct. 21 on WHUT. After its broadcast premiere Oct. 11, the film will be available to stream for free on the PBS app and website for 30 days. The documentary will be rebroadcast a few more times over the next three years and eventually released on streaming platforms.

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Amazon Prime doc tells story of Black, queer civil rights pioneer

RBG quoted Anna Pauline (Pauli) Murray before Supreme Court



AFI Docs, gay news, Washington Blade
Anna Pauline (Pauli) Murray (Photo courtesy of Amazon Studios)

No one could have imagined the life of Anna Pauline (Pauli) Murray, the Black, queer, gender nonconforming civil rights pioneer who lived from 1910 to 1985.

Few people have done as much to make the world more just than Murray. Last year, Murray’s scholarship was used to help the ACLU successfully argue before the Supreme Court that Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 protects LGBTQ+ people from being fired in the workplace because of their sexual orientation and gender identity. Yet, many people don’t know who Murray was.

“My Name is Pauli Murray,” a new documentary playing in select theaters and streaming on Amazon Prime, tells the story of Murray’s fascinating life. The engrossing film is co-directed by Betsy West and Julie Cohen, who directed “RBG,” the popular documentary on Ruth Bader Ginsburg.

“RBG” is a good documentary. Yet, the 131-minutes-long “My Name is Pauli Murray” is even better.

Conveying the complexity of Murray’s life in a doc of that short length would fell many mortals. But West and Cohen are up to the task.

Using recordings of Murray’s voice; Murray’s letters, footage of everything from Murray with one of her dogs to Harlem in the 1930s along with interviews with Murray’s family and biographers, the film draws you into Murray’s world.

To say Murray was a Renaissance woman isn’t trite. Murray was a lawyer, poet, writer, activist and educator. That’s just the tip of the iceberg!

For decades, Murray and Eleanor Roosevelt were friends. Murray was a co-founder of the National Organization for Women. Gay writers James Baldwin and Langston Hughes were her writing buddies. Murray and Baldwin were the first Black writers to be invited to the distinguished MacDowell writing colony.

In her 60s, Murray left her tenured position teaching at Brandeis University to go to seminary. She became the first Black woman to be ordained a priest by the Episcopal Church.

It doesn’t stop there! A paper Murray wrote as a Howard Law School student was a key element of Thurgood Marshall’s strategy in overthrowing racial segregation in Brown v. Board of Education. Ruth Bader Ginsburg quoted Murray when she argued against sex discrimination before the Supreme Court.

While she was alive, Murray was closeted about much of her personal life. Murray had a decades-long relationship with Irene Barlow. But, because of the times in which she lived, Murray couldn’t be open about their relationship.

Murray felt that she was misgendered—like a man in a woman’s body. This, too, Murray kept secret.

In “My Name is Pauli Murray,” Murray’s family and biographers refer to Murray with the pronouns “she and her.” A non-binary activist refers to Murray as “they.”

Murray is having a much-deserved moment. In 2016, Yale University named one of its residential colleges after Murray. It was the first time a Yale college was named after a person of color or an (openly) LGBTQ+ person. In 1965, Murray was the first African American to graduate from Yale with a doctorate in judicial science.

In 2017, the National Park Service, part of the Department of the Interior, Murray’s family home in Durham, N.C., as a National Historic Landmark.

Watching, “My Name is Pauli Murray,” you’re bowled over by Murray’s resilience and achievements. Fifteen years before Rosa Parks, she protested racial segregation on buses.

“I’ve lived to see my lost causes found,” Murray says.

It’s hard to humanize an icon. But, the filmmakers don’t place Murray on Mount Olympus.

Even as a child, we learn, Murray wanted to wear pants. That was fine during the week, her Aunt Pauline said, but Murray would have to wear a dress to church on Sunday. Though, few understood Murray’s feelings, Aunt Pauline called Murray “my boy girl.”

Murray and Barlow never lived together. Yet, you get a sense of their intimacy from the letters they exchanged. They called each other “Linus” and “Charlie Brown” (characters in the Peanuts comic strip) and wrote of longing to “share” listening to Brahms’ Fourth Symphony and the New York Times crossroad puzzle.

“My Name is Pauli Murray” will leave you talking about Murray and how to honor her legacy. That would have made Murray happy.

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New doc sets the record straight about ‘Fauci’

Film offers humanizing overview of hero’s life



The good doctor himself in "Fauci" (Photo courtesy of National Geographic)

For those who lived through the AIDS epidemic, the onset of COVID-19 in early 2020 was accompanied by an inescapable air of déjà vu. There were plenty of reasons for this, of course: it was a terrifying new disease, not much was known and even less understood about how it spread, there was no effective treatment or cure available, the government’s response to it sparked a political firestorm, and—most significantly—lots of people were dying. As if all that weren’t enough, right in the middle of the public conversation about it was the same familiar face, none other than Dr. Anthony Fauci himself.

For many who worked as activists during the peak years of that earlier epidemic, Fauci was the adversary. Then, as now, he found himself in the crosshairs of a whole angry sector of society, bearing the brunt of the anger that arose from their fear of an uncertain future and becoming, once again, one of the most polarizing public figures in American politics, without even being a politician. Ironically, this time around, instead of being perceived as the face of government inaction and establishment obstructionism, he has been elevated to the status of progressive icon.

To understand how that seeming transformation is possible—as well as to look past the surface parallels between cultural response to the two plagues and see the profound differences instead—it’s necessary to look past the broad strokes of the headlines and the two-line bios that make up most of the knowledge most Americans have about AIDS, COVID and Fauci, and get a more detailed knowledge of the history that links them all together. Fortunately, a new National Geographic documentary, which began streaming on Disney Plus on Oct. 6, is here to provide exactly that.

The film came about when two filmmakers, Emmy-winners John Hoffman and Janet Tobias, joined forces after being separately inspired to make a film about Fauci, who, for those who have been in an isolation module for the past 40 years, was appointed director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases (NIAID) in 1984 and has advised seven presidents on domestic and global health issues during the decades since. Aided by unprecedented access to their subject, who was not only supportive but fully cooperative, along with access to decades of deep archival material and a wide array of prominent public figures eager to participate, the result of their collaboration is an impressive piece of cinematic journalism titled, simply, “Fauci.”

Starting out with a humanizing overview of Fauci’s early life, the film offers us a protagonist whose dreams of a private Park Avenue practice gave way to a passion for the study of infectious diseases, and whose enduring marriage to Dr. Christine Grady began with a “meet-cute” that would have been right at home in a Hollywood rom-com. It then tracks his professional career, not just the two epidemics that have bookended his time in public service to date, but details from the intervening years that most people have either forgotten or never known, like his efforts in stemming the threat of Ebola when it began to appear in the U.S., and his role in ensuring global action to the AIDS crisis that was unfolding in Africa and the Caribbean.

Still, it’s inevitable that the documentary concentrates most of its attention on his most famous contributions—spearheading the fights against AIDS and COVID in America—and it does so by highlighting the aforementioned parallels between the two epidemics while also giving us a Fauci’s-eye view of how each played out. Throughout, we go back and forth across the decades, with the help of news footage and extensive interviews, to gather insight from the defining moments of each of these historic public health battles; we are reminded that, while Fauci was seen as the opposition by ACT UP and other AIDS activist organizations seeking to speed up the availability of drugs and treatment for HIV. He also listened to their concerns and learned from them. Bucking resistance from his colleagues, he gave activists and community members directly affected by AIDS a seat at the table and opened the door for their participation in designing the clinical trials that would ultimately bring the life-preserving drug cocktails that stopped a positive diagnosis from being a death sentence. While social media feeds over the past two years have been full of anti-Fauci posts reminding us of his early obstructionism in the AIDS fight, few have bothered to include the rest of that story, but “Fauci” sets the record straight.

In focusing on this end of history, however, the movie gives us a refresher course—as if one was needed—on the unprecedented level of opposition Fauci faced from the very administration it was his job to serve in the campaign against COVID. It reveals the pressures put on Fauci and his family by the vitriolic hatred of his detractors, the hardships imposed on his life and routine by the security protocols enacted in response to the death threats that come as a natural consequence of being used as a political scapegoat. And it makes quite clear that those who protest his methods this time around are working from a very different motivation than the one that drove the heroes of ACT UP.

More important than any of this, perhaps, is the chance “Fauci” gives us to get to know the man himself. The filmmakers position him squarely in his rightful place at the center of their movie, allowing us a look past the professional veneer that has become a fixture on news broadcasts and at press conferences. What we see there is the man we know, amplified by the freedom to let his compassion, his humanity, his intelligence, and yes, his sense of humor show. It’s a winning portrait that never rings false, and the eager participation of a widely varied crowd of interviewees to sing his praises—from George W. Bush to Susan Rice to Peter Staley to Bono—only reinforces its sincerity.

Of course, those who dislike Fauci are unlikely to be swayed by the sympathetic portrait offered by Hoffman and Tobias’ film—which, though it, like Fauci himself, is candid in acknowledging his missteps along the way, offers little in the way of negative commentary about its subject—and will doubtless brush it aside as “woke” propaganda. To answer that phenomenon, it might be best to offer a quote from the good doctor about why he is so hated by his critics. “I represent something that is uncomfortable for them. It’s called the truth.”

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