Time Out Reviews IX
SKIN DEEP
Dir. Midi Onodera 1994
NFT1
You just know that any film that promises to "reveal the queer layers of identity that lie beneath satorial disguises" is going to be slightly uneven. "Skin Deep" is one such movie. A film within a film, it concerns Alex (a Japanese film director) and Montanta, her Black lover, who hires doe-eyed Chris to stop the "stalling with endless fucking research" on her new project about tattoos and obsession. A perturbing power game develops between the director and her gopher, watched from the wings by an almost school-marmish drag queen who believes Chris is a dyke.
The situation escalates as Chris goes on various journeys of discovery through wardrobes and bookshelves, and erupts when Alex refuses to get her skin inked with Chris. The power dynamics are relatively intense, but Alex's attitude seems a tad languid. The real-life situation soon usurps the film they are making, and Chris slips into a deranged alternative universe.
I suppose it's all about how barriers can be dismantled, but they're coming down too fast for me. Queers who desperately want to be straight? Drag queens who are women dressed as men aping women? Dykes who yearn to be "real men" but want to fuck other lesbians? The fundamental connection with tattooing went over my fudged head as well, but it seemed to be about the pain of permanent commitment, but then subtexts were never my forté.
The direction is uncompromisingly narrow, the performances could be rated favourably against a lot of inclusions in the Festival, but it's not one I'd really feel able to (or qualified enough to) rave about.
The Hand: A Lesbian Horror Ballet
Written by Stella Duffy
Jackson's Lane N6 and Hackney Empire E8
I met Stella Duffy in a suitably dark and dank setting - the crypt of St Martin's. I knew precious little about her, except that she is a New Zealander, a playwright and the author of one book ("Calendar Girl"). She's also reponsible for "The Hand" - the world's first lesbian horror ballet.
I thought it might be worth asking what on earth it was all about.
"Is it boring if I start at the beginning?" she asked. I shook my head. "Last November, maybe December, I got a letter from Lois Weaver at Gay Sweatshop saying, we're asking a bunch of writers to submit ideas for a lesbian horror ballet, right? Now, I meant to be a ballerina right, okay? But puberty fucked me up. I lost a whole lot of weight in the last couple of years, but I spent most of my life being 3-4 stone overweight so this was cool to be asked as a writer so that I could be part of dance thing, basically."
She took time for a single breath, and was off again.
"I came up with an idea about chaos, and I was allowed to put in as much blood and lust and sex as I wanted, which for me is brilliant. I spoke to Lois briefly and one of the things she said - which was so good as a guiding line - was we can assume that we have a certain degree of politics. I was allowed to write really violent dykes, and didn't have to go, `Ooh no! I can't do that!'
"I had a long discussion with one of the performers who was very concerned about the portrayal of violence and fucking a man and the incest thing. To me, it feels like reclaiming it and I'm willing to give it a try and maybe push that there'll be people who are pissed off, or even offended, but I do think that we can't always go `This may be difficult for some of the audience, therefore we can't do it'."
So what's it all about, Duffy?
"I had an idea about two women - an old woman and a very young woman - who are lovers, and make a baby, `cos I'd had this book idea for a long time about making a baby from two women," she explains, "from women's sex and snot and fingernails and hair, and if we make a thing between us, it isn't like lots of lesbian relationships, it isn't necessarily that soft focus girlie sex crap thing."
Another sharp intake of breath.
"And for me, one of the things that comes out of that is, if we make a baby from two women, it might not be the hippy, peaceful, singing songs round the campfire thing, it might be something huge and big and dangerous. That was the concept, and they got back to me saying yes, we like what your thing, and there's two other small pieces by Cherry Smyth and Caroline Forbes that we want to put in it, we'll use yours as the main story."
The PR machine at Sweatshop had pulled out the stops in its description of "The Hand" - full of "blood lust, sexual conflict, mutilation, murder, decay, necrophilia, anarchy, insanity, incest, patricide, matricide, damnation, redemption and immorality." It all seems a bit much for something that only last 80 minutes.
"No patricide unfortunately. I missed that," Duffy apologises. "There is some man-fucking and I was quite adamant - I wanted to have a lesbian who fucks men and for whom it's okay. When Della Grace says she fucks men, because of how Della Grace looks, the community doesn't go, `Well, that's terrible!' When I say I fuck men, because of how I look, it's that I'm not really a lesbian. There's a huge unaddressed issue there."
Another time perhaps. I'm sure she wasn't going to give too much of the plot away: actually, she did but I'm not going to spoil it for you.
"There's a lot of eating of flesh and stuff, and it's as gory as we can make it on stage without being offensive and it's funny - I can't help myself because that's what my background is. There's some horrible horror that makes you go `Aah!' And the set's very `Brookside' - like, patio doors. Maybe I shouldn't say that - I might be giving too much away. Very suburban. It looks simple, and it's very deceptively simple."
And how do you think the ballet will go down?
"It's called ballet like you might call a musical an opera, so you're allowed to be lush and big but there's no tutus. There's some great purple gingham skirts, but no tutus. And it's bloody hard work for the performers. Highly physical. Hugely. The women are gorgeous - all of them - and I think probably, every lesbian will have at least one woman that she really fancies. I think we covered the spectrum, and they'll probably really pissed off about me speaking about them like that but I, personally found it wonderful to watch as a dyke. And it's very cheap. It's only four quid, laughably cheap! As long as you don't faint, you'll probably be fine."
FIST CITY
Tribe 8
Alternative Tentacles Records
Tribe 8 have been around for a while now, but "Fist City" is their first album - sorry, CD - to date. It's a very strange feeling listening to music that's so obviously better suited to live performance. I compensated by nearly blowing my woofers and tweeters while stomping around the living room with a can of Tennents Extra in my hand. I discovered a fairly anarchic and heady mix of heavy metal-style death knells, spiralling and thrashing guitars, frantically thudding drums, wall-shuddering bass and Lynn Breedlove's whining but raw vocals.
The cover itself is reason enough to shell out for the CD. As for the lyrical content, don't be surprised if people - particularly those who aspire to being politically correct - object quite vehemently. They won't be too pleased with "Neanderthal Dyke" which clearly states, "Maybe if you gave all that p.c. shit a rest, you'd get yourself some action, instead of being such a pest." They'll throw up their hands in horror at the desires voiced in "Manipulate" - "I just want to slap around my girlfriend, call her nasty names like you evil bitch from hell."
Okay, so maybe these are rather innocuous examples. The 15-track CD also contains a call for date rapists to be "gang castrated", talks of a time "before latex was a necessity, when blow jobs were romantic and tasty" and breaks the taboo on dealing with the aftermath of sexual abuse. If that's all too heavy for your sensibilities, there's a wicked but oh-so brief version of Aretha's "Think" and even a love song or two.
If you have any doubt about Tribe 8's appeal, open up the sleeve notes and gaze upon the snapshot of rollicking dykes, arms aloft and breasts bared. It's a supreme way to enjoy "Fist City" - believe me.
All © 1993-2001 Megan Radclyffe
Skip to...