A superb history of trans and non-binary lives

Before We Were Trans by Kit Heyam is a remarkable achievement. First published last year and now out in paperback, it is an attempt to map out a history of trans and non-binary people – not just within the white West, but taking in cultures around the world.

Heyam works scrupulously to avoid imposing contemporary, white Western values and ideas about gender onto people from different cultures and living in very different societies (and times), reminding readers that to do so is dangerous in terms of a meaningful understanding of history, but that it also risks colonising – or re-colonising – those lives.

 

It is full of revelatory information. For instance, I had no idea that in Swahili, “all pronouns are gender neutral”. Or that “The Daughters of Bilitis, an American lesbian activist group founded in 1955, described butch lesbians as ‘the worst publicity we can get’.”

 

Records from WWI internment camps on the Isle of Man provide a wealth of information from the German civilians imprisoned there for years with no ‘biological females’.

 

The author explains in detail how, in some cultures, from First Nation to South Asian ones, gender non-conformity is often intrinsically linked to spirituality. No matter how difficult some in the West might find it to understand this, we should not pretend it is not the reality for people who experience gender in such a way.

 

Heyam is also determined that we should not simply assume that in every – and there are plenty – historic example of gender non-conformity, we should assume that the person involved was trans or non-binary.

 

They point out that there could have been motives for being gender non-confirmative that could have involved coercion, the need to make a living and more. But as they point out, it’s also a major likelihood that at least *some* were what we would now describe as trans or non-binary.  

 

Initially, I found it a bit annoying to be reminded of these things quite frequently, but I came to understand the value of such reminders. I read history books on a reasonably regular basis, but have never read one like this, and ultimately it benefits from it. It has helped me think quite seriously about number of things I have not thought through before.

 

But Heyem also hits the proverbial nail right on the head in an understanding of why Western, non-binary people might be easily tempted to appropriate the experiences of non-Western, non-gender conforming people, given the assaults on trans and non-binary people currently being experienced – not least in the US and UK.

 

We need to construct a more nuanced dialogue in order not to appropriate, while still celebrating the range of non-gender conforming lives and understanding that in terms of our own relationship to the wider LGBT+ community.   

 

Heyam Is to be applauded for taking a complex subject and approaching it in such a way as to make it informative, challenging and, as they suggest at the end, ‘kind’, to those in the past as well as those living now and, indeed, those in the future.

 

A very different and valuable history – and one to be heartily recommended.

Trussed Up – how the Daily Mail screws with the national conversation

Trussed Up: How the Daily Mail tied itself in knots over the Tory leadership

 

On 7 July last year, The Other Half and I were travelling home from a holiday on Rügen, Germany’s largest island, which is on the Baltic. As we piled into the taxi from our holiday home to head to the railway station, we caught the radio news.

 

The words ‘Boris Johnson’ featured highly. Our driver told us that it was top of the German news cycle. “Boris Johnson ist total verrückt!” I exclaimed, finding it the best my limited German could manage (translation: ‘Boris Johnson is totally crazy’).

 

He howled with laughter. I rather like to think that he later shared this with friends over a beer, as an anecdote of what at least what one Brit thought of Johnson – and could even convey it in German.

 

It was four hours back to Hamburg. But on an excellent German train, with excellent onboard wifi, that ensured we were glued to the slow-mo car crash taking place back in London.

 

By the time we got home, Johnson was no longer the prime minister.

 

Hurrah!

 

Or perhaps less so.

 

For three utterly exhausting months, the country had to watch – helplessly – as The Conservative and Unionist Party first elected a new leader, then dumped her after she screwed the economy, and then found a quick way to choose a third leader (and second unelected prime minister).

 

And a crucial part of that farce was played by the Daily Mail – ‘the voice of Middle England’ – which loves to pretend that it represents ‘common sense’ etc.

 

Liz Gerard is “Long in tooth and sometimes claw, old poacher turns gamekeeper to watch the Press”, as per her Twitter profile. She has had a journalistic career of over 40 years, including 30 as a night editor at The Times.

 

Here, she has done a detailed analysis of the Daily Mail over that quarter of a year, illustrating its massive influence over Tory MPs and members.

 

It is, in effect, a diary, charting the opinion columns and leaders surrounding the issue.

 

Those of us who are aware of what the Mail is like might not be expecting to be surprised. However, what Gerard has done reveals the absolute precision of a real sub-editor (traditionally paid better that reporters on ‘The Street’ for being more literate etc) and shining a light on how the Mail works against democracy.

 

Concentrating on this specific, tumultuous time, she shows precisely how the Mail terrifies Tory MPs. And indeed, she hardly needs to make much extraneous comment – when you see/read the Mail content in this condensed way, it’s very clear what a danger this is and how much sheer hypocrisy there is.

 

I grew up in a rabidly Mail home; I know what this paper does. What Gerard has done here is brilliant in making it so clear just how the publication works against democracy, the public and political debate.

 

I have never read as many parts of Mail editorials as in the last two days reading this book – and never has it been clearer that so much of it is hysterical, pearl clutching with little relation to reality.

 

Gerard has done us all a favour – reminding us just how bad the Mail is, how and why. It is a malign influence on the country’s life. Read this – and spread the word about why and how.

You can buy the book here. 

You can follow Liz over on Twitter twitter.com/gameoldgirl.

Camping it up with a fascinating new history

Paul Baker’s latest foray into LGBT+ history, following histories of Polari and Section 28, takes a look at Camp! The story of the attitude that conquered the world – and it is both an extremely educative and entertaining read.

As with those two previous books, Baker’s approach is well-researched historically, but also includes autobiographical elements and observations, with a nice side of cheek. Also as previously, this recipe works very well.

 

The first chapter examines the origins of camp as we know it – in particular, its relationship to Louis IX in France.

 

I also had no idea about the origins of the cakewalk and the black balls, and therefore, voguing. Baker covers both these in good fashion. 

 

I’ve seen the Jimmy Cagney film Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942 a number of times, but I hadn’t a clue that the lyrics of the eponymous song were originally written in 1755 as a British pop at ragged Americans, who then turned it around.

 

Take these lyrics:

 

“Yankee Doodle went to London,

Riding on a pony,

Stuck a feather in his cap,

And called it macaroni.”

 

Had I ever considered what the pasta reference was actually about? No. But in fact, it was a nickname – and a pejorative one – for young British men who did the Grand Tour and returned with the fashion affectations of, in particular, Italy. Maybe not ‘gay’, but certainly you can see the link to ‘camp’ – and to gay. Fascinating.

 

Taking a leaf out of Baker’s own book, so to speak, there was masses here (particularly in the earlier chapters) that I recognised as tastes from my own earlier years. Agnes Moorehead in Bewitched gets a mention – my absolute favourite character in a show I adored as a child!

 

Paul Lynde was also in Bewitched, but for me, was most memorable and most deliciously enjoyable for his voiceover work on The Perils of Penelope Pitstop (camp in every way imaginable).

 

There are explorations of upper-class British (English) camp – the Mitfords in particular, plus the reach of non-aristo Noël Coward – together with a fascinating introduction to the black cakewalks and balls where voguing was created.

 

But while camp is easy to take as an unserious attitude, Baker illustrates that it is often a way of defiance. And how much more defiant than those at the Stonewall Riots who faced down the police down with a chorus line, singing a revised version of Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay, which, while details are not set in concrete, certainly involved black drag queens.

 

There’s a personal educational tip on that note – it also made me realise also why a version of Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay is used, in the way it is, in the film, The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

 

Of course there are things that are missing here – as Baker acknowledges early on: everyone will have different camp (and campy – ie *knowingly* being camp) faves, but this a really good look at a cultural phenomenon. 

 

Paul Baker’s Camp! Is out now, published by Footnote Press

There are still tickets for an event with the author next week in central London – Bloomsbury, Queerness and Camp. Perfect for Pride Month.

 

 

 

Recreating an historic Hamlet – with outstanding results

The Motive and the Cue

“Theatre is for thinking,” director Sir John Gielgud tells Richard Burton, as the latter prepares to take the stage as Hamlet on Broadway in 1964. And there is no shortage of that here, with Jack Thorne’s magnificent new play offering a feast of food for the mind.

Based on two accounts from actors who were involved in the production – Richard L Sterne’s John Geilgud directs Richard Burton in Hamlet: A journal of rehearsals, and William Redfield’s Letters from an Actor, the play takes its title from part of a speech by Hamlet in Act 2 scene 2:

“What’s Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her? What would he do Had he the motive and the cue for passion That I have?”

It was a hugely successful production, but its gestation was troubled. There was no lack of respect from either for the other, but director and leading man struggled to work out what their individual visions were.

Gielgud was beset by fear that he was becoming irrelevant (he’d taken this job because it was the best offer) and was trying to do something ‘modern’, while Burton – now a global film star and celebrity after just marrying Elizabeth Taylor – was desperate to add ‘classical’ heft to his CV.

With an avaricious press camped outside the hotel where Burton and Taylor are staying, director and star fight, reconcile and fight again. Will they achieve what they both want – and how?

Gielgud’s great modern plan for the production was to stage it as though it were in the rehearsal room rather than before the footlights. Thorne’s script moves between shortish scenes, with surtitles telling the audience what day of rehearsals has been reached (there were 25).

Set designer Es Devlin uses black curtains to allow us to see into various sets behind, which change as one or more of the cast walk to the front of the stage to continue the play as the curtains close behind. If it sounds clunky, it isn’t. That, of course, is also down to the magnificent direction of Sam Mendes. The production moves smoothly and never lags.

If the central theme is about why we create art – and indeed, how – there is no shortage of other themes.

Father and sons, masculinity, ageing and sexuality to list a few.

On the latter, Gielgud at this point was 60. As a gay man, having lived his entire life with homosexuality being illegal, this adds a vulnerability, loneliness and a poignancy to him. In one scene, he takes Hugh, a sex worker, back to his hotel room, but cannot go through with any act and begins to talk.

When Hugh embraces Gielgud, the actor breaks down and sobs. It’s utterly heart-rending.

In essence, this is a two-hander with accompanying ensemble. All, of course, who are top quality. Special mentions to Allan Corduner as Hume Cronyn and Janie Dee as Eileen Herlie.

Taylor is played by Tuppence Middleton. She doesn’t have a vast amount to do, but brings light and sparkle, and also an important contrast to the two main protagonists, in seeming supremely confident and at ease in herself.

Johnny Flynn gives an excellent turn as Burton, moving fleetly from rage to fear, while there’s almost an impotence in his lack of knowing of what he himself wants.

But ultimately, this rests on the performance of Mark Gatiss as Gielgud – and it is an absolute masterclass. Not an imitation – though he fabulously captures the musical quality of his subject’s mellifluous delivery, and the quick-fire wit (and sharp bitchiness – though never used cruelly) too.

Finally, there is the ending. I give no spoilers, but is spine-tinglingly, eye-prickling stunning.

All in all, this really is outstanding – a love letter to theatre, and to Shakespeare.

• The Motive and the Cue is at the Lyttelton Theatre Until 15 July. It seem likely to transfer to the West End after that.

'It starts as all these stories do. With blood'

Joanne Harris’s latest novel, Broken Light begins with the blood of menstruation, decades in the past, while the onset of the menopause is the trigger for the contemporary sections.

At the centre of the story is Bernie Ingram (née Bernie Moon), approaching 50, in a marriage that has long since gone stale, while she’s estranged from both her mother and her own son. Working in a bookshop, she has no friends and begins to realise that, in effect, she has little agency.

But as she travels through the menopause, the nearby murder of a woman triggers a return of powers that she had long forgotten about – and Bernie begins a journey to a totally new sense of living.

Broken Light is an extraordinary tale of female experience; angry, passionate and deeply humane.

It’s been labelled as magic realism and it has, as much of Harris’s work, a quality of fairytale/folklore about. In keeping with that, it is an incredibly easy read (420 pages in two days for me), which illustrates the grip in exerts, but it’s also full of complexity, power and moral nuance.

The central theme here is the violence and misogyny that women face as a matter of routine, and the way that women are ignored.

But it’s also an examination of friendship – and of the cycle of toxicity in relationships. And also, the toxicity that can be spread on social media and is stirred by a sizeable amount of the mainstream.

There is something exhilarating about seeing some of the worst offenders called out, by their real titles, in the pages. Harris isn’t afraid to cast her fiercely feminist stare straight at them and illustrate the damage they do and the damage they facilitate.

In terms of the traumas that childhood can produce, there are places I physically winced in personal recognition – not least a child’s birthday party and aspects of domineering motherhood.

But the ending is shocking, yet redemptive and hopeful – simply stunning. Bernie Moon will stay with me for a very long time.

Broken Light by Joanne Harris is out now, available in hardback, for Kindle and audio.

The BAFTA nominations are in – who's going to win?

It's 'that' time of the year, when the BAFTA nominations are unveiled – and in spite of the best efforts of the pandemic, I seem to have better knowledge of the main contenders than in any previous year.

So here are my provisional thoughts and predictions.

I can't comment on All Quiet on the Western Front, as I haven't seen this new version yet, but I am aware that the critical response has uniformly been one of acclaim. Of course, in a perverse twist of fate, to be released in a year when Europe saw conventional warfare within it again probably hightened awareness – though the horrors of war should never be forgotten.
In terms of the best film, I think that it will be between All Quiet and The Banshees of Inisherin (pictured above).
I doubt that bookies will take bets on British film of the year, which is almost certain to go to Aftersun, given that is gained far more acclaim than anything else on the list.

On leading female actor, I'd love Viola Davis to get it (left– and I said she should be in the running for awards), but I wouldn't object remotely if Michelle Yeoh won for what was a wonderful performance in the exhilarating Everything Everywhere All at Once.

On leading male actor, I want Bill Nighy to win for Living, because his performance is simply gorgeous, but I think it will also be considered 'too' Bill Nighy and Colin Farrell will get it for Banshees. And that will not remotely be a bad thing. Odd, though, that the lead in All Quiet isn't here.

On supporting female actor, either Kerry Condon (Banshees) or Jamie Lee-Curtis (Everything Everywhere) are, I think, the leading contenders, though Dolly de Leon in Triangle of Sadness could be a deserved surprise.

Supporting male actor – it's such a shame to pit Banshees actors Brendan Gleeson and Barry Keoghan against each other: the former's role is a joint lead, and he gives a superb performance, while the latter's is a 'conventional' supporting role and the performance he gives is also superb.

Director? I suspect that Gina Prince-Bythewood is in with a good chance for The Woman King.

Outstanding British debut by a writer, producer or director – Aftersun.

Film not in English – All Quiet.

Documentary – no idea.

Animated film – has to be Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio (left). Nothing else on that list comes close.
Cinematography – what? No Banshees here? No idea then.

Original screenplay – I suspect that this will go to Martin McDonagh for Banshees, possibly leaving All Quiet for best film.

Adapted screenplay – All Quiet.

Original score – Banshees. I love the work of Alexandre Desplat, who is nominated for del Toro's Pinocchio, but Carter Burwell's score for the former is better, in my opinion.

Casting – no idea. Possibly Everything Everywhere all at Once?

Costume design – Mrs Harris Goes to Paris (left), but then again, perhaps Amsterdam, which The Other Half and I really enjoyed.

Editing – no idea and don't have the knowledge to make a judgment.

Production design – del Toro's Pinocchio.

Rising star – Sheila Atim for Woman King – a very good performance.

I'm afraid I have no idea on last few, which are technical beyond my even really having an opinion.

I think that All Quiet will bag a number, but nowhere near the 14 nominations it's received, and that Banshees will bag some of the bigger ones, split with Everything Everywhere (left).

I could end up with metaphorical egg on face, of course ... only time will tell!

2022 – it's been a brilliant year for cinema

Okay, let’s be clear about this: I keep lists. I’m not ‘admitting’ it, mind, so don’t think that … because admission would imply some sort of ‘guilt’ and I’m deffo doing no such thing.

I like lists. I like keeping a note of what books or comics I’ve read and giving them a rating. The same goes for any form of live performance. And absolutely goes for films too.

 

When The Other Half and I started seriously going back to the cinema in 2016, after a long time away (different story and all my ‘fault’), I started creating lists of what we had seen. A short while later, I started adding stars (up to five). 

 

In terms of movies, because the times are a changin’, I now also include films that we have streamed relatively recent to their release, on channels that we pay for.

 

So, even allowing for COVID, if we include those streamed movies, 2022 has been a prolific year for us, with 23 films seen – 17 of which were viewed in a cinema.

 

Personally, I think it’s been an exceptional year in terms of the films – and the broadest range of films that we have ever viewed in a single year.

 

So here is an attempt to list my top … well, let’s wait and see how many.

 

But we’ll start with the worst and that, by a country mile, was The King’s Man. I had it pinned for a cinema visit, because The Other Half and I had enjoyed the earlier ones in the franchise.

 

I am not a humourless so-and-so – and nor do I object to fantasy/action takes on historic events. An excellent illustration of this is Kim Newman’s novel, Anno Dracula: The Bloody Red Baron, which I have thoroughly enjoyed.

 

But The King’s Man, despite a huge talent roster, so far missed the spot that it was a cringeworthy experience. And let’s waste no more time on it.

Now to the other end of the spectrum. Best film of the year, for me – is a tie between The Banshees of Inisherin and Glass Onion.

Totally different movies, but both superb, with the latter being one of a number of offerings this year that sent up the über rich (see also Triangle of Sadness and The Menu, but which did it better than any other).

Glass Onion is arguably even better than Knives Out – it’s funny, but also deeply satirical; still a puzzle and with wonderful performances.

Daniel Craig is also even better, second time around, as Benoit Blanc, and while the entire ensemble case is wonderful, this has surely ensured that Janelle Monáe is regarded as a serious and major star of our times.

On Banshees … where does one start? It’s almost criminally funny, in the deepest, darkest, darkest way possible – but also deeply, deeply moving and tragic.

I know that many viewers have decided that you have to choose ‘sides’ in it, between Pádraic and Colm (pic at top).

Personally, I think that a huge part of the tragedy is that they’re BOTH tragic and understandable and you can sympathise with them BOTH.

Having just turned 60(!) I can, for example, utterly understand Colm’s existential crisis and his sense of impending mortality.

But Barry Keoghan’s performance as Dominic – well, that’s brilliantly bleak as all fuck too.

Now I’m setting aside the conventional rules next in not making my next choice a conventional third, given my joint winners, but a second.

And it is Living – Kazuo Ishiguro’s extraordinary reworking of Akira Kurosawa’s iconic 1952 film, Ikiru. Difficult to imagine anyone else who could understand and ‘do’ English strait-jacketed, life-limiting cultures better than the Remains of the Day genius Ishiguro. And he does it absolutely superbly here.

Then there's Bill Nighy’s performance, which is simply superb. No spoilers, but the last time you see him in the film, given the context, it is quite, quite extraordinary.

Tragic and life-affirming and beautiful all at the same time and it will stay with you for a long, long time. If you don’t cry, you’re possibly not human.

So, third place goes to Pinocchio from del Toro. A beautifully and very carefully calibrated mediation on mortality and fascism that is probably more ‘family friendly’ than his previous films, but no less powerful as a result.

The stop-mo animation is simply sensational, while Alexandre Desplat’s score – while not up with his Oscar-winning one for del Toro’s The Shape of Water – has still already garnered awards.

After that, at four, is Everything Everywhere All at Once, with the magnificent Michelle Yeoh and the wonderful Jamie Lee Curtis having enormous and deceptively philosophical fun, and rather proving that you can do a multiverse without doing it Marvel.

So for a fifth seen late but none the less stunning for that, The Power of the Dog. Superb to look at; astonishingly acted all round, deeply philosophically complicated, still living in my head almost a year later and with a wonderful soundtrack.

And I will restrict this to five, in order to regain some sort of quality, after allowing my top films to count as one.

PS: But I’ll add See How They Run, for its wonderfully geeky and fun approach, and The Woman King, for Viola Davis’s incredible performance along with the history lesson as illustrations of just what a great year this has been. Oh ... and I don't care about it's faults, but Amsterdam, as a deeply anti-fascist movie, has so much going for it! And Mrs Harris Goes to Paris is balm for the soul ... and Nope!

What a great year for film!