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A gay soldier comes of age in South African ‘Moffie’

Grim journey into Apartheid, military conflict, and homophobia

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Moffie, gay news, Washington Blade

Kai Luke Brummer and Ryan de Villiers in ‘Moffie.’ (Photo courtesy IFC Films)

Sometimes a movie can challenge us with its title alone.

Such is the case with the new feature from acclaimed filmmaker Oliver Hermanus, a historical drama releasing in select theatres and on VOD platforms April 9. Its single word title is emotionally charged and packed with inescapable associations; provocative, controversial, even triggering, it lets us know before we see a single frame of footage that we’re about to be confronted with some very difficult feelings.

That’s true, at any rate, for audiences in South Africa. Here in the United States, a movie called “Moffie” might easily be confused with a children’s story – which would be a mistake – or overlooked altogether by its own target audience simply because the title means nothing to them. That would arguably be an even bigger mistake.

In its country of origin, “Moffie” needs no clarification. To begin with, it’s already familiar as the title of the book on which it was based, a searing autobiographical novel by André Carl van der Merwe which relates the experiences of a young man conscripted into the South African army to fight in a 1981 border war with Angola. More to the point, though, it’s also an Afrikaans word meaning “weak” or “effeminate” – an ugly piece of derogatory slang for “gay,” roughly equivalent, perhaps, to “faggot” for Americans. That’s enough to tell anyone that the military combat on the surface is not the only kind of conflict going on in Hermanus’ film.

With that in mind, it’s not a spoiler to reveal that the story’s lead character is gay. In any case, it’s something we find out almost right away in Hermanus’ movie (co-written with Jack Sidey), when white South African teenager Nicholas (Kai Luke Brummer) – about to depart on a compulsory tour of military duty for his country’s Apartheid government – almost comes out to his father during their awkward farewell exchange. He doesn’t quite get the secret out, but it will soon come to haunt him as he is thrust into the dehumanizing world of basic training, a brutal process designed to strip away “weakness” and remold sensitive boys into hardened soldiers. Subjected to daily abuse and humiliation, Nicholas nevertheless gradually manages to fit in with his boisterously masculine fellows – until an unexpected attraction sparks with Dylan (Ryan de Villiers), another young conscript. Under the oppressive homophobia of their military environment, being seen by your mates as a “moffie” can be just as deadly as bullets from the enemy, and the relationship blossoming between them puts them both at risk as much as the war they are there to fight.

Needless to say, Hermanus’ film takes us on a grim journey, and there’s not much respite to be expected within the context of its time and place. Yet thanks to his scrupulously understated attention to emotional detail, he manages to find fleeting moments of tenderness, even joy, in the tension and terror that loom over most of the story – most memorably when Nicholas and Dylan manage to spend a night alone together in a trench, thrilling silently to each other’s touch under the safe cover of darkness, but in many other, less obvious ways throughout. And while their seemingly doomed-before-it-began romance may be at the center of the narrative, it serves to illuminate a bigger story about the effects of living under an authoritarian regime.

In a director’s statement, the filmmaker elaborates on this larger context. “I have never given much thought to the hardships of white South Africans. In my mind, informed by the hardships and struggles of my own coloured parents and their parents before them, all white people in South Africa have had it easy. As a result, I never considered young, gay, white youth living in the ‘80s, never saw them as enemies of the state. This is a film about such a youth… coming to terms with his illegality.”

Yet Nicholas and Dylan are not the only ones who get our compassion in “Moffie.” Their fellow grunts – and even their ruthless drill sergeant (Hilton Pelser, in an indelible performance), who torments his charges with near-sociopathic relish – are allowed to emerge as more than mere stereotypes of aggressive masculinity. Thanks to Hermanus’ virtuoso use of subtext and cinematic storytelling, we recognize them as victims, too. And though it might at first seem a questionable choice for a film set during Apartheid to feature so few people of color, their notable absence brings a particular immediacy to the screen when they do appear, wordlessly confronting these young white soldiers with their palpable humanity. It’s one of the most powerful moments in the film, eloquently expressing an uncomfortable truth that haunts post-Apartheid South Africa to this day.

As the filmmaker explains, “There [is] a hidden history of the generation of white men who had to endure the Apartheid propaganda machine… their conscription into the army destroyed them because it forcibly imprinted upon nearly one million white boys a diseased ideology of white supremacy, racial intolerance, and the desire to eradicate homosexuality and communism from South African society.”

It’s impossible for Americans not to hear chilling echoes in that description.

Those unavoidable comparisons, along with its nearly unrelenting doom-and-gloom tone, are enough to make Hermanus’ film a hard sell even to potential viewers not thrown off by its title. Still, its two leads are dreamily attractive enough to be a strong draw for many audiences, giving sensitive performances that make them far more than just another pair of handsome faces – especially Brummer, whose expressive face conveys his character’s complex journey and carries the weight of the film’s story with a minimum of dialogue. Additionally, the movie’s reputation – it accumulated a number of honors on the international festival circuit, including nominations for Venice’s Queer Lion Prize and the Best Picture Award at the London Film Festival – will doubtless be enough to pique the curiosity of hardcore cinema buffs.

For everyone else, it’s a tough call. Hearkening back to a darker era in LGBTQ cinema, “Moffie” offers a bleak portrait of a time and place that held little hope of an open and happy gay life, a far cry from the kind of positive, uplifting queer representation currently in vogue with American audiences. That might – understandably – hit a little too close to home for some. Even so, there’s a transcendent quality to this richly photographed, deeply cinematic romance, a flame of hope burning within it that never quite goes out and ultimately prevents it from becoming a film without hope.

For those with the stomach for it – especially those with a taste for well-crafted filmmaking – that’s more than enough to make it worthy of a place on your watchlist.

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Neo-noir ‘Femme’ offers sexy, intense revenge fantasy

A work of real and thrilling cinematic vision

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George MacKay and Nathan Stewart-Jarrett star in ‘Femme.’ (Photo courtesy of Utopia)

They say “revenge is sweet,” and it must be true. Why else would so many of our popular stories, dating all the way back to “Medea” and beyond, be focused on the idea of getting “even” with the people who have done us wrong?

It’s a concept with obvious appeal for anyone who has felt unjustly used by the world – or, more accurately, by the people in it – but that has particular resonance, perhaps, for modern queer audiences, long used to being relegated to the status of “victim” in the narratives we see on our screens. In “Femme” — the new UK indie thriller helmed by first-time feature directors Sam H. Freeman and Ng Choon Ping, now in limited theatrical release and expanding wider over the next two weeks — it provides the irresistible hook for a gripping tale of calculated vengeance in the face of anti-queer violence. Like the best of such stories, however, it’s as much a cautionary tale as it is a wish-fulfillment fantasy.

Set in London, it centers on Jules (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett), aka Aphrodite Banks, a popular drag performer in the city’s queer club scene who, after a performance one night, steps out in full costume to buy a pack of cigarettes and becomes the victim of a traumatic “gay bashing” incident at the hands of a young man goaded to violence by a thuggish gang of friends. Months later, though he’s recovered from his physical injuries, he is still deeply affected by the inner scars that linger. Robbed of the confidence that allowed him to perform, he’s withdrawn into a reclusive life, until concern from his friends and housemates prompts him to finally venture out into the world for a night of cruising at a gay sauna – where he encounters his bully doing the same thing. 

Unrecognizable and anonymously masculine out of his drag persona, Jules finds himself beginning a dangerous and duplicitous game in which he plans to “out” his former attacker – whose name, as he learns, is Preston (George MacKay) – in the most humiliating way possible. As his scheme begins to play out, however, he encounters an obstacle: in getting to know the closeted Preston, he is surprised to discover not only empathy for someone living their life in terrified camouflage, but a mutual attraction that develops despite the horrific history between them.

Framed as a self-described “neo-noir” story, a designation that implies a certain flavor of moral ambiguity as much as it does a tense and shadowy tale of intrigue or a psychologically complex tone, it’s a movie that relies heavily on style in order to sell its conceptual premise. Realistically, we might question the boldness that permits our protagonist to enact such a potentially hazardous scheme, but in the context of its genre trappings we are lulled into accepting it. And while most of us are likely “jaded” enough to question the possibility of tenderness between its two leading characters, the accepted conceits of the film noir form are enough to sell it to us – or at least allow us to grapple with it alongside Jules, whose righteously Machiavellian master plan is threatened by the feelings he “catches” in spite of himself.

That, of course, is part of the whole point. “Femme,” though it establishes itself by virtue of its very title as a testament to the struggle to “pass” for straight in a world that places a value judgment on perceived adherence to a strict norm for gender and sexuality, hinges on the idea that such things aren’t quite as clear-cut as we want to make them. Despite the black-and-white certainty we cling to when it comes to the subject of abusive or toxic relationships, there’s an emotional component that can only be ignored or dismissed at our peril, and even our most resolute intentions can be undermined by the shades of gray we discover in our hearts. 

Freeman and Ng – who also wrote the screenplay, adapting their own BAFTA-nominated short film from 2021 (starring Harris Dickinson and Paapa Essiedu) into a feature-length expansion – seem bent on challenging our snap judgments, on forcing us to sympathize with our oppressors by showing us the ways in which they, too, are prevented from living a fully authentic life by the expectations of their cultural environment. Even more challenging for many modern audiences, perhaps, may be the unavoidable observation that, in enacting his plan of revenge, Jules crosses the line between being a victim and being a victimizer – a fine point that may trigger uncomfortable implications in a social environment that has become marked by divisive moral constructs and hardline ethical posturing.

Before we scare you off with discussion of high-concept themes and “culture war” rhetoric, however, it’s crucial to bring up the elements that lift “Femme” above and beyond the level of so many such narrative films and makes it a somewhat unexpectedly potent piece of cinematic storytelling – and all of them have to do with the skill and intention behind it.

As to the former, the movie’s first-time directors manage a remarkable debut, steeping their film in moody, genre-appropriate visuals and murky morality. They pave a path beyond the easy assessments proscribed for us by conventional thinking, and force us to follow our sympathies into a disquieting confrontation between what we “know” as right and what we feel as true; at the same time, they push back against any natural sentimentality we might have about the situation, stressing the toxicity of the relationship in the middle of their film, the ironically-reversed insincerity of its dynamic – and, perhaps most importantly, the reality of the defining circumstances around it. While we might find ourselves longing for a happier resolution than the one we expect, the film makes no pretense that these two men might overcome the deep denial and traumatic associations – not to mention the calculated lack of honesty on the side of its de facto protagonist, to achieve some kind of “happy ending” between themselves. Nevertheless, we hope for it, in spite of ourselves.

That delicate dynamic works largely because of the movie’s lead actors. Both Stewart-Jarrett (“Candyman”) and MacKay (“Pride”, “1917”) deliver fully invested, utterly relatable performances, finding the emotional truth behind their interactions with as much palpable authenticity as they bring to the chemistry between them. They force us to abandon our preconceived ideas about each character by finding the human presence behind them, and it makes the story’s final outcome feel as heartbreaking as it does inevitable.

As for intention, “Femme” – which premiered at last year’s Berlin International Film Festival and went on to gather acclaim across the international film fest circuit – might be a little hard to take for the easily triggered, we won’t deny it. Still, it’s a work of real and thrilling cinematic vision that goes beyond easy morality to highlight the tragedy that comes from being forced to live behind a mask for the sake of societal acceptance. It’s also exciting, smart, and unexpectedly sexy – all of which make it a highly- recommended addition to your watchlist.

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Tommy Dorfman makes directorial debut in ‘I Wish You All the Best’

Film premiered at SXSW

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(Courtesy photo)

Editor’s note: Jack Morningstar attended SXSW.

Based on Mason Deaver’s novel, “I Wish You All the Best” follows Ben DeBacker (Corey Fogelmanis), a nonbinary teen who is thrown out of their house and forced to move in with their estranged older sister and her husband.

The film premiered at SXSW last week and stars Corey Fogelmanis, Miles Gutierrez-Riley, Alexandra Daddario and Cole Sprouse, Lena Dunham and was produced by Matt Kaplan and Tommy Dorfman. In addition to directing and producing, Dorfman also adapted the screenplay. 

“I had never read a book that centered on an experience that mirrored mine so vividly — just being a queer kid from the South — so I immediately was interested in adapting it and was putting myself up for that,” she said.

The heartwarming film brings awareness to the plight of LGBTQ kids who grow up in conservative families and communities, while also emphasizing that, as Dorfman noted, “safety can be found in many places.” In this case, the main protagonist, Ben, finds refuge in their friendship with Nathan. Fogelmanis, who plays Ben, explains that “together they have so many first-time experiences. Learning to let your walls down with someone that is a stranger, or that you don’t have a biological bond with is really scary. And then just to see all the stuff that comes up and have that person still accept you is just the greatest thing for Ben.”

Fogelmanis and Gutierrez-Riley were obvious choices for the roles of Ben and Nathan.

“It was really clear to me from a filmmaker perspective. There were a couple of people for each role that I was interested in and enjoyed working with, but Fogelmanis, from that first tape to the last chemistry read made it so clear who Ben was, who Ben is, and who Ben could be. Miles, who plays Nathan, is so amazing as well,” Fogelmanis added. “It was really effortless in a way. Reading Tommy’s words was super easy to find my way into.”

Dorfman found it particularly easy to work with Gutierrez-Riley as well since they attended the same acting program at Fordham University. 

“I remember when I was working with Miles in the audition process, I was like, oh, I know how to talk to you. That’s huge. It helped me as a first-time director,” she said.

Dorfman wanted to be careful “not fall into the trap of dramatizing Ben’s gender or coming out too much. It is important to remember that viewing people solely through the lens of their gender or sexuality diminishes their vast and complex humanity. For instance, my life extends beyond my trans identity. I’m an artist, a wife, a mother to two dogs, a sister to four siblings, an avid reader of classic literature, 10 years sober, have ADHD, enjoy arranging flowers and charming tableware, to name a few things.”

“Similarly, my film’s protagonist, Ben, doesn’t have an identity exclusive to being a queer teenager. Although their coming out experience is crucial and worth exploring, an obvious jumping-off point in my film, it’s what happens after they’re able to open up that inspired me to make ‘I Wish You All The Best,’ Dorfman added. “My film examines the discomfort of being seventeen, falling in love with a classmate, forming friendships, finding a voice through painting and self-expression, learning to love and be loved, navigating anxiety and depression, and coping with the pressures of growing up. These are universal and very human experiences that shape Ben beyond the limits of representation or perception.” 

Dorfman describes being one of the few openly transgender directors as “an honor and a disappointment.” She added, “I wish there were more of us, but there will be. It’s exciting, though, to be part of this next generation of creators and filmmakers entering this space and telling more human experiences.”

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Nick Kroll and Andrew Rannells want to adopt baby in ‘I Don’t Understand You’

Film premiered at SXSW in Austin

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(Courtesy photo)

Editor’s note: Jack Morningstar attended SXSW in Austin, Texas.

“I Don’t Understand You” focuses on a couple whose romantic Italian getaway devolves into bloody chaos while they prepare to adopt their first child. 

The film, while veering into hilariously gruesome hijinks, tells the story of a gay couple who is willing to kill for a chance at fatherhood. It sheds light on the hurdles that same-sex couples often go through in the adoption process: Financial burdens, time constraints, fraud, and in this case, a rural Italian family.

The film premiered last weekend at SXSW in Austin and stars Nick Kroll and Andrew Rannells along with Nunzia Schiano, Morgan Spector and Eleonora Romandini. It was written and directed by Brian Crano and David Craig, who are married. They sourced inspiration from their own adoption struggles and an Italian vacay gone wrong. 

“We were about to leave for Italy when we found out that we had matched with a birth mother and our son would be born in about six weeks,” said Crano. 

According to Craig, the trip was tense and it culminated in their car getting stuck in a ditch on their way to an anniversary dinner.

“We ended up at an old lady’s house after she rescued us in her Fiat. Her family cooked us a meal and we stayed up drinking with them until 3 a.m., not understanding a word they were saying,” he said.

Without spoiling anything, the couple in the movie go to absurd lengths to ensure that their adoption goes through. Craig explained that the theme of the movie was “what would you do for your kid.” 

“We were three years into our own journey at the time and realized we would literally do anything to make that dream a reality. It’s really a love letter to our son,” he said.

The film is hard to relegate to a single genre. 

“When conceiving the story, we saw it as different parts — romantic comedy, horror movie, murder play — but I think by bringing in Nick and Andrew that blend actually became much more of an organic mix where the comedy sustained throughout. They elevated it in a more elegant fashion,” said Craig. 

“I Don’t Understand You”was produced by Pinky Promise, a women-led production company with the mission to elevate diverse voices in their storytelling. Kara Durrett, Pinky Promise’s current president was a champion of this script from the beginning. Founder Jessamine Burgum recounts that when Durrett was onboarding, she said “If you don’t get [“I Don’t Understand You”] I don’t know if this is going to work.” 

It ultimately became one of the first projects Burgum and Durrett collaborated on. 

Kroll and Rannells’ chemistry carried the film. 

“There was a desire to work with each of them because they had both separately been in such amazing comedian teams — like Andrew with Josh Gad and Nick with John Mulaney. Nick and Andrew’s characters are in almost every scene of the movie together, so they needed to be adept to basically doing a shared performance. There was no one more well-positioned to do this as naturally as possible,” said Crano. 

Their characters are easy to root for, yet also deeply flawed. 

“A big thing we wanted to do with this movie, and with all of our work in telling stories, is avoid telling a cliched gay trauma film. We’ve never ascribed to the idea that there is a subcategory to film that is LGBTQ, rather — movies are for everyone. We want to make a movie where gay characters are flawed, not for being gay, but because of who they are. They can be villains, but they are our protagonists,” said Craig. 

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