The queer experience is far from universal, and Emergence: Out of the Shadows captures this expertly. The film tells three stories that are quite different - Kayden’s, Amar’s (Alex), and Jag’s - and weaves them together in a heartwarming, hopeful climax.
A brilliant, raw script is what makes this movie so powerful.The feelings this monologue captures are strong and real, inevitably stirring the viewer's heart.
Love in Aciman’s novel is always hinted at but never directly spoken of; it is known to the reader and the characters but the word itself is never mentioned.
As a queer girl in India, not knowing if I can come out to someone has often made me feel unsure and trapped. Holding back a part of my identity that feels so important to me has left me feeling ashamed, like I'm hiding a dirty secret. To me, it is this feeling that the music video of Industry Baby captures, along with the eventual euphoria that comes with being true to oneself.
Written and directed by Jiya Bhardwaj, Almariyaan, it stars Pranav Sachdeva, Supriya Shukla, Shrikant Verma, and Rajesh Sharma in the lead roles. The short, in just over 18 minutes, does what most full-length movies are unable to: meaningfully engage the audience on a sensitive issue.
The argument that comes up when discussing this show is whether or not it is queerbaiting. One response we received from @three_kids_in_a_trenchcoat also said that a queer relationship doesn’t have to have PDA to be valid, and I agree. I don’t think Yuri! On Ice is queerbaiting at all. I think there are several things to be discovered about this show the more we watch it.
This is not a film that gives you precise conclusions; on the contrary it leaves room for ambiguity. The lack of a definitive answer keeps the audience gripped throughout the film.
It’s a good pick while you’re browsing through Netflix searching for what to watch next. It was the right amount of scary and creepy and has a good amount of gore and blood, although some of the characters are cliched and the plot is predictable, but that’s part of the charm.
if i could make it go quiet is a stunning departure from girl in red's older music, but still manages to be classic girl in red. It is characterised by the perpetual rage and fury Ulven feels — for herself, for her loved ones, for the world and the situation it’s put her in.
The film is populated with our everyday misogynists without any meaningful criticism levied at any of them: the casually verbally-abusive and tharki neighborhood boys, the misogynist-stud Neel who takes non-consensual photographs and publicly broadcasts intimate liaisons, the friend-of-the-husband who thinks women ought to be trained and our very own protagonist nice-guy who’s the quintessential incel with his ranting about ordinary nice boys going unnoticed and his barely concealed scary, violent rage.
The film aims to explore the topics of class and identity within the framework of the contemporary Indian family - where culture and social status equal all, and where autonomy and western power are derided and admired in the same breath.
One of the most interesting things about this show is that it’s not about two people falling in love; instead, it focuses on what happens after you’ve fallen in love with someone.
If you’ve attended a pride parade, then I am sure that, given the ongoing pandemic, you are bound to experience nostalgia. The description is not only overwhelming but is full of queer innuendos and hilarious stuff that can only happen during a pride parade, or I would like to believe so.
So, when I read Maulik Pancholy’s The Best At It (full disclosure: sent to me by the Indian team at Harper Collins), it transported me back to a time when I was about the same age as the protagonist, Rahul. A lot of Rahul’s experiences seem to indicate quintessential ‘brown’ diaspora and queer culture (and the intersection of the two).
Jon is addicted to porn, he shows all the signs of an addict. He spends hours browsing pornography websites, is unsatisfied with real life sex, cannot have stable relationships, mastrubates an unhealthy amount any time of the day and night (probably why I didn’t realise his job as a bartender for most of the movie), feels guilty about it because he confesses to the priest at church but continues doing it anyway.
‘The Song We Sang’ is not a grand or iconic cinematic depiction of Queerness, but it surely is the most beautiful 21-minutes of winessing two, independent, young, Queer women cross each other’s path, eventually growing fonder by the passing night.
Even though some cinematic elements are compromised, His Storyy tables human issues in a relationship and family beautifully.
In its introduction, Kirpal writes that the law is woven intricately with all of our lives in ways we don’t seem to fully imagine. He also affirms that “the Constitution has become a document embodying all that is aspirational in the Indian imagination,” transferring much-needed hope and confidence to its interpretation by the judicial system in contemporary times.
Seemingly insignificant interactions in the short film speak volumes about the queer experience, specifically Kamble’s, with each one wittily adding depth to the viewer’s understanding of this overarching theme.
Ghaywan’s film Geeli Pucchi catches you off-guard as you emerge, a little disoriented, from the first two films in this anthology, making it a little difficult to comment on it in isolation, with any amount of objectivity or distance, and it stands out particularly starkly in this otherwise abominable line-up.