I first saw Nobody Passes Perfectly, a Germany documentary and one of the latest additions to BuskFilms’ catalogue, at a UK film festival in 2009. It had an indelible impact on my understanding of gender, sexuality and trans identity, and I’ve been talking it up to friends ever since. Beautifully and compassionately shot, it is certainly one to ruminate on and, in my view, only improves with repeat viewing. To celebrate its new found wide availability, I was keen to hear and share others’ reactions upon watching the film for the first time:

Scott Larson, USA

Nobody Passes Perfectly introduces itself as open-minded, and could be described as open-ended. The film never introduces the speakers, offers a back-story, nor places them in a narrative of before-and-after transition. Rather, the camera places the viewer in the position of a “fly on the wall” in a series of conversations and vignettes focusing on the lives and transitions of trans-masculine individuals.

The film means to be intimate, and feels familiar to me as a trans-man: certainly I have had conversations much like those in the film. Like its framing, the film leaves open the questions of what manhood and masculinity mean, and why it matters in the first place. Moreover, the film allows questions of masculinity to be in tension with categories of sexuality. It neither resolves nor covers over the often-uncomfortable fit between gender transition and categories of sexuality that rely on seemingly fixed or well-defined gender. It asks critical questions about the value of bodies and the film’s speakers insist that bodies matter—how they look, how they feel, and how they allow one to feel at home or out of place in social worlds.

The openness of the film is its greatest asset, but I wonder if the film’s focus on masculinity leaves open the suggestion that masculinity somehow stands outside or apart from other major forms of identity. That is, masculinity seemed complex and nuanced, but femininity and women less so, and the film did not touch on issues of race, class, immigration, access to health care.

While I don’t expect that every project can or should address every issue, the strength of the film is that it opens the door to further questions, and those are some of the questions I pose in thinking more about the film. I would recommend it as a resource to people who are thinking personally about their own gender identity, but also to people who want to know more about gender identity broadly and engage in further discussions—either personal or academic—about different ways that people engage issues of genders, bodies, and sexualities.

Greg Sensing, US

Nobody Passes Perfectly is a smart, gorgeous film. I really enjoyed the fly-on-the-wall perspective, rather than having different people talking at the camera, conducting another “Transgender 101 class.” It’s nice to see more human, real conversations about what gender identity really means.

There are no “rules on how to be a man” but more discussion about what that even means, and allows that not every transgender person is interested in trading one binary gender experience for another one. There’s far more nuance and complexity in gender identity and expression, for every person. It’s great we get to eavesdrop in on those conversations.

The notion that transgender people might not want to just be a man or just be a woman, that maybe we enjoy “being a freak” because it’s awesome to be transgender, is sadly a really radical idea in a lot of documentaries on the subject, just because society is still (slowly) wrapping its collective brain around the concept. Reality is so much more interesting than that.

Kai Côté, Canada

A few parts in the movie really resonated for me. One is how it’s brought up that, even if it might take years for someone to acknowledge they need to transition, when it’s realized it feels like it was always meant to be. It becomes obvious and clear: it needs to happen. However, it can still be very hard to express the process behind it, feeling whole and real without necessarily having to attach a label to it or try to fit in anywhere, to just be and do what is needed to bring happiness.

Another compellingly made point is that, for some trans-men, it’s not so much ‘passing’ as a man [that matters] but more so not being pressed into a female mould. I can relate to that. I’m more concerned with not being seen as a woman than being seen as a man. It opens up a whole new world of gender possibilities to be whoever I want to be by not being seen as a woman. But I also don’t only want to be seen as a man because that would only be a part of myself.

I really like how it’s brought to our attention that cis men can also feel like they don’t fit in according to the stereotype of what it is to be a man, or feeling like a man but not the man that society wants you to be. Transgender or not, we can all feel like we don’t fit in at some point in our life.

Ruth Pearce, UK

This is a gentle, thoughtful, reflective film. It doesn’t really feel like there’s a clear beginning or end to any of the narratives that lie at its heart: instead, thoughts and feelings ebb and flow as two transmasculine individuals explore gender with partners and friends.

I enjoyed the way in which gender and identity were portrayed as fluid, complex, deeply personal yet intimately linked to others. I almost wish I could have watched a film like this prior to my own transition: when I wondered how it felt to experience hormone therapy; whether I would become a different person, and how this would impact my relationship. Ultimately, everyone responds differently to the changes that come with both physical and social shifts in gender.

Similarly, I felt the tableaux benefited from multiple perspectives on gender itself. There were none of the essentialist assumptions that are all too present within mainstream trans documentaries: instead, we see individuals discussing hormone therapy and the concept of manhood in terms of what felt right for them.

Of course, the spectre of discrimination was ever-present. One participant suggested that he took testosterone because he could no longer deal with street harassment, and there were several reflections upon how others might react negatively to the changes that come with transition. Nevertheless, the overall mood is one of quiet celebration, lauding human diversity and individuality within a complicated world.

Please feel free to add your own comments to this thread, or under the film itself.

Kat Brooks has done it again. No, she hasn’t made a teacher/school girl crush film a la Loving Annabelle (dammit), but rather she has once again harnessed the power that is Kickstarter to fund her new film. One of Brooks’ most admirable characteristics is that she’s not afraid to ask for help from us, the people who watch her films. So if you’re wondering how to best use social tools to fund your project then head on over to Kat’s Twitter feed and take a look.

The Kickstarter-funded film is a feature length docu-narrative called Off The Record. In a nutshell, it’s a love story between a music journalist and a rockstar. The official blurb goes into more detail:

“Off The Record centers around two women, Aimee Allen who plays a tortured rock star with severe agoraphobia and Katherine Brooks who plays a music journalist. Although the movie is scripted, all scenes in the film will be improvised. This is the perfect medium for Brooks to blend her ten years of directing reality television and decade of narrative features. Off The Record explores mental health issues, intimacy and the struggles a woman goes through being a survivor of sexual abuse. Brooks plans to push the boundaries of filmmaking, exposing some very taboo and controversial topics.”

We wanted to dig a little deeper into the motivation behind the film, so posed some questions to the director/star:

What do you want to accomplish with Off The Record?

I want every person that is in the closet to watch this film and be given the strength to be who they really are without fear.

The film has a script but scenes will be improvised. What is your purpose for doing this?

I have a long background in both documentary and narrative. I wanted this movie to feel raw, organic and real. To do this, I felt it would be a great way to portray those things.

Where is it that you most often find inspiration?

In many ways I’m most inspired by a love that can not be, due to society reasons as well as personal fears. I’m inspired to hopefully push the envelope as much as possible so people take a risk to love.

The film is funded through Kickstarter donations, which surpassed your original goal by $5000. Has crowd sourcing changed your approach to storytelling and moviemaking?

It makes me feel like others are a part of the process of making movies and I have always loved including people in the process since I first started making movies. I think it’s a great way to have people be a part of something they would not ordinarily be able to be a part of.

What challenges have you faced as an indie filmmaker in the last 5 years?

My challenge always comes from within me, not from outside sources. I struggle like a lot of people with feeling like I’m not good enough, even if people assure me I am. My journey of self love and acceptance has been a tough one, but this project Off The Record has taught me so much about that.

Where is the industry and specifically queer filmmaking, heading?

I think it’s headed in a great direction. Soon it won’t be queer filmmaking….it will just be making a film.

What is your favourite queer film?

I love the movie Aimee and Jaguar, I think it’s authentic and amazing.

Off The Record is currently in post production and according to Brooks, will hit the festival circuit by late summer.

In January, almost a year to the day after the Egyptian revolution began, Busk received a message from Nasreen* in Cairo. She wanted to know if there was a way to pay for films with total anonymity, anxious that any card transaction could be traced back to her.

Since Busk went live, we’ve received messages expressing similar fears from all over the world: in urban and rural areas alike. We are all too aware of the harsh socio-political and cultural climate weathered by same-sex desiring people around the globe. The battle for sexual and romantic freedom under state-sanctioned or tolerated repression is, understandably, a recurring theme in the films available here. For Nasreen, and countless others, it is also an everyday reality.

In Egypt, homosexuality is not in itself illegal. However, many LGBT individuals and groups are targeted under laws based on euphemistic terminology, such as those that outlaw “debauchery” and “public immorality”.

Following the uprisings of the past 14 months, which led to the resignation of dictatorial leader Hosni Mubarak, there are signs that Egyptians are embracing a more democratic regime. The ruling military council has promised to turn over power to civilians by the end of June 2012. Yet, so far it seems unlikely that this will have any significant affect on LGBT rights in the country. The issue was omitted from a provisional Constitution endorsed by voters last year, while UN pressure to condemn homophobic discrimination has been staunchly resisted.

We asked Nasreen if she would be willing to offer us some personal insight to her life in Cairo. This is her reply:

As a lesbian living in Egypt, I have to keep everything under wraps. Nobody should know anything about my sexual orientation or else I will get into trouble. People don’t look so good at people who are homosexuals, due to religious reasons.

Although I hear negative comments and awful words about homosexuals, I can’t imagine what can happen if my mother or sister or brother found out that I’m a lesbian. Maybe they will try to cure me as they think it is an awful thing to be a homosexual and they are not tolerant when it comes to hearing [about] anyone who is a homosexual. They call them awful words. In my workplace, the same thing goes. They do respect me, and think I’m a nice person, but I’m sure they wont have the same opinion if they found out.

When my mother started noticing that I didn’t pray any more (when I started questioning Islam, the religion I was raised with), she started suspecting I might not be a good Muslim anymore. She started telling me things like: ‘if you are not a Muslim you can’t stay with us at home’. I lied, and said: I’m still Muslim. I had to, so I can still be with them. I don’t want to lose them, and I have nowhere else to go.

The same applies for my sexual orientation. She will never accept me as a lesbian and who knows what might happen? [I am always] answering stupid questions about why I didn’t get married until now, although I’m in my late thirties. I always say: ‘I don’t like marriage responsibilities’. Sometimes they mock that idea and start saying: ‘Why? You don’t want to have a baby of your own? Every woman yearns for this!’

The only way I was able to meet lesbians is through the internet. This was somehow dangerous, especially after the Queen Boat incident, when they arrested lots of Egyptian gays. But I used to take chances. After talking with [someone online] and getting to know them, I went to meet them. Some were good and others turned not quite good and I had to back off.

A girl I used to date, her family suspected that she is a lesbian and they kicked her out of the house. She was kind of ‘psycho’ and she used to make my life a living hell, threatening that she will tell my family about my sexual orientation. She didn’t tell, but I had to stay away from her for my safety.

[With my current girlfriend] we always talk about our future together. We both wish someday that we can get married, live in a more tolerant place away from homophobic people. We hope [for a brighter future, after the resignation of Hosni Mubarak] but with the rise of the Islamic Brotherhood, who have said in one of their interviews that they won’t accept homosexuality as it is against Islam, I don’t think that there will be a much brighter future for us here.

Honestly, I don’t see any improvements since Hosni Mubarak left the presidency. I think the Military council [is] just like him. A lot of people were killed since the 25th of January [2011] revolution. There is lack of security measures.

People just want a much more democratic place, [where] they can receive good education for their children, can eat a proper meal and find jobs that can secure their life and they be able to speak their minds without being arrested. This was not the case until now, unfortunately.

I would love to thank you all for allowing me to express myself and gave me the space for this. I hope that someday we can hold an LGBT pride here in Cairo.

My best regards all the way from Cairo,

Nasreen

*Name changed to protect identity. Her words have been minimally edited to retain her voice.

As a kid, I loved the Oscars. Every February, my loving mother and obliging uncle indulged me a Sunday night sleep over at his house, because he had cable (we had board games). By 12, the Oscars had me hooked on coffee. I would sit up, alone, until the early hours, basking in blue light and the irrational sensation that I was there. At school the next day, no one was interested to hear about it. I didn’t care.

Two years ago, thanks to a scheduling bump into March, the planets aligned for a glorious occasion: the Oscars fell on my birthday. I had a party, starting at midnight on a Sunday, and demanded guests arrive in formal wear. My friends hated me. I didn’t care.

This week, I watched my first Academy Award ceremony from the USA. It was as if I was inching closer to my dream of actually being there. I fixed up my hair, wore a shirt, bow tie and sunglasses. I felt like I belonged. I tripped over in every place that wasn’t extraordinarily well lit. I didn’t care.

I won the Oscar predictions sweepstake and felt smug. My only wrong guess was in the Best Documentary category, much to the astonishment of a friend who asked: “How could you bet against a film called Undefeated?” Somehow, it was even more obvious who would win the other gongs. It’s the same every year, and there’s no magic in predictability. But should I care?

I wonder though, if the Oscars would be so popular if they weren’t so popularist? The complaint that incredibly good, but incredibly obscure films are overlooked in favour of nomination-baiting fare somehow seems to miss the point of the Academy Awards. Their explicit purpose is to celebrate Hollywood. Everyone there is positively steeped in “show business”. It’s an event where the sartorial judgement of coiffed, pampered and bejewelled millionaires is of deeper debate than most nominees (I’m looking at you, Sound Editing). Poor red carpet performances warrant public character assassination via glossy magazine spread, a deathblow for ingénues.

Knowing, and embracing all that, it feels silly to grumble when “typical Hollywood” movies rule the roost. Bizarrely, however, some feel further explanation is needed as to why.

This year, much was made of The LA Times’ report on Oscar voters. With an air of inexplicable astonishment, the Times reported that, of the 5765 voting members of the Academy, just less than 94 percent is Caucasian, and 77 per cent is male. The median age is 62. “Outrageous!!” adjudged the twittersphere.

Depressing, I agree. Surprising? Not a jot. All multi-billion dollar industries are controlled by that particular, predictable demographic. When state governments have such problematic constituencies (and they often do), we should be worried. With The Academy of Motion Pictures and Sciences, it seems rather impotent to feign disbelief. Seriously, who exactly did The LA Times imagine runs Hollywood?

The report concludes that we should demand a more diverse, “relevant” voting membership. If that’s the case, the real issue should be that this self-selecting group is predominantly filthy, stinking rich. Most can afford personal cinemas in each of their multiple homes. Surely that puts them further out of touch with the multiplex-frequenting public than gender or race?

Ultimately, I’m not convinced we want more “in touch” Oscar winners, anyway. Hollywood is a byword for fantasy, for hedonistic indulgence, for escape. Successful, big studio films are broadly appealing and wildly profitable because that’s what they portray. That’s how the movie magic making machine rolls. Why try to compete? Obscure, challenging, boundary-pushing films can be, and are promoted through other channels. Film can be amply celebrated without a flash of Cameron’s smile, J-Lo’s areola or Jolie’s left leg. We just have to make more noise when it happens.

So, for the other 364 days of the year, I’ll take interest in those multiple smaller awarding bodies and keep talking up amazing, under-appreciated movies. For that one starry, February night, though, I’m going to wear my sunglasses indoors, drink a shot at every “Scorsese” and quietly imagine who I’ll thank, when I’m actually there.