Queer Docs (Pride pt. VIII)

Tongues Untied

Queens at Heart

Happy June! Happy Pride Month! Happy as I can be knowing that temperatures are only rising, Vanderpump Rules is coming to the end of its legendary reign in the cultural consciousness, and we’re in the thick of the tumultuous Gemini season. On top of all that, we’re currently living in a new, emboldened age of bigotry—where racism, sexism, homophobia, and transphobia has been revamped and reinvigorated to fit a new generation intolerant, hypocritically self-righteous assholes. In my home state of Texas, alone, there are currently 35 anti-LGBTQ pieces of legislature being proposed that promise to undermine every kind of queer existence. Trans kids, drag queens, anyone who seeks gender-affirming care, and anyone who seeks an abortion are under constant attack from the lawmakers and elected officials who took an oath to protect their people—from Texas to Florida to South Carolina and Oklahoma (as if these states don’t suck enough already.) I look around at the once-weird mecca that used to be Austin, Texas and I fear for the lives and livelihoods of everyone who identifies as LGBTQ+, and those of us who vehemently support them. As a friend and family member to queer and trans people, I feel incredibly helpless. Now, more than ever, the LGBTQ+ community needs allies and loud, vocal supporters—so I encourage you to speak up, show up, and vote when the opportunity arises. And in the mean time, let’s watch some queer movies, shall we? For the month of June, I’ll only be viewing Double Features that were directed by queer filmmakers. There have been a number of queer directors featured on this blog thus far, like: John Waters, Gus Van Sant, Andrew Ahn, Cheryl Dunye, Pedro Almodóvar, Charles Busch, Gregg Araki, and the Wachowskis. In my opinion, some of the very best filmmaking comes from queer people, or at least, queer-coded people, so I’m very eager to view more movies from the LGBTQ+ community. We begin tonight with a set of queer documentaries that are essential viewing—for queer people, allies, and cinephiles alike. In my many, many, many excursions into queer cinema for this blog, I’ve only viewed two documentaries, so I wanted to kick off Pride Month with some queer docs that showcase the honest beauty that is inherent within the LGBTQ+ community. I began with Tongues Untied—a 55-minute experimental documentary film by Marlon Riggs that is considered a foundational text in queer history, and I quickly found out why. Tongues Untied exposes the glorious but conflicted experience of Black gay men, by using documentary footage, personal accounts, poetry, and avant-garde storytelling. It is a stunning, shocking, funny, tragic, fabulous, frenetic, illuminating portrayal of the Black, gay community that did not exist before this, and has yet to be topped. Tongues Untied is a sort of Black, gay “Vagina Monologues” that seeks to give a voice and specific perspective to an otherwise silent and underrepresented community. It covers many aspects of the Black, gay experience: from homophobic brutality, toxic masculinity, and the racism and elitism of white cis gay men. Through each individual’s story of love or discrimination or hot sex or exclusion or fear of being outed and ostracized, audiences are given (what feels like) an extra-special tour of a world that was otherwise covert or clandestine before Tongues Untied. Each voice has something different to share, whether it be a lesson in humility or a lesson in snapping—my favorite part was probably the segment with The Institute of Snap!ology, where we’re given a masterclass in body language and snapping-based communication. I’m not even a poetry person, but each poem uttered here was spectacular, and effortlessly sewn into this tapestry of Black, gay history. My fingers couldn’t type quickly enough to note all of the delicious diction and turns of phrase spoken here, all I could write down in time was “perversion polighted possessively”, “fairy freaky free”, “anoint me with coconut oil and cum”, “I’m a BGA: black, gay, activist looking for hot, safe, sex.” and “You know the type, body by Nautilus, mind by Mattel.”—but you get the point. Tongues Untied was the interpretive dance slam poetry sesh that I never wanted to end—something I’ve never said before—because this was just totally unique and special. This film covers the nuance of a “new” age of racism—how a white gay man can be marginalized and still live a freer life than a gay man who is Black, how the golden era of gay men cruising in San Francisco was open to all but Black men. Tongues Untied is less than an hour long and yet it manages to cover even more topics not yet mentioned, like House and Voguing culture in New York City, Eddie Murphy’s highly-specific and appallingly unfunny tirades against gay and trans people, and the tragedy of AIDS causing more and more Black men to disappear. Throughout Tongues Untied, Marlon Riggs asks the still-relevant question of: are Black men an endangered species? And though the queer community had come so far, Black gay men were still quiet and closeted due to fear of straight Black men, but mostly white people. Marlon Riggs underscores the fact that silence equals death, and that too many men faced an early death due to a fear that was placed upon them by a white, patriarchal, heteronormative society. I couldn’t help feeling moved by Tongues Untied, and with the songs of Nina Simone and Roberta Flack playing alongside them, these stories and anecdotes and poems cut right to the heart. I’ve never seen anything like Tongues Untied, and though we’d like to think we live in a progressive time where subversive filmmaking is done, we’re unlikely to ever see anything quite like this again. The next film is also one-of-a-kind work of art we’re unlikely to see replicated in this day and age, for better or worse, and that’s the 1967 documentary / exploitation film known as Queens at Heart. Queens at Heart is a 22-minute short film that features interviews between four trans women and drag queens known respectively as Misty, Vicky, Sonja, and Simone. The insistently-hetero host is donned in a sporty suit and declares that this footage is the result of a six-month long “psychological project” where the double lives of queer people are explored. The filmmaker and production date of Queens at Heart are completely unknown, as this project was conducted anonymously in the late 1960s, and was only rediscovered in the 90s by Jenni Olsen, who bought it from a Kansas City projectionist for $75. The original negative of Queens at Heart is lost, and now, this 22-minute interview segment is all that remains of what could’ve been an expansive, extensive film project. Thankfully, the UCLA Film and TV Archive restored this film, and some wonderful soul was kind enough to upload it to YouTube. The interviewer introduces these women as beauty pageant contestants, and begins to question them about their lives as women. We’re shown footage of drag balls and drag competitions that showcase the most elegant, glamorous costuming, hair, and makeup that one can imagine. To be a queen in the 1960s was unfathomably risky, but also there was no shortage of beauty to be explored within that era of fashion. The Twiggy makeup, beehive hairdos, and the chic silhouettes that were both classy and skimpy were all to die for. When we return to the interview room, the host asks questions that are both puzzling and progressive—prodding at these women as if they were being studied (because they very much were.) And while some of the questions were downright perverted, like “What, exactly, do you do when you have sex?” (the conservatives are concerned with the wrong people, trust me), this interviewer seemed to come from a place of genuine curiosity, and an earnest desire to understand. Sex changes, hormones, masculinity vs. femininity, boys who like girls with penises, living a double-life, avoiding being drafted for being too femme, and the daily struggle of code-shifting and self-preservation are all topics that are discussed within these 22 minutes—and still, they barely scratched the surface. Again, this was 1967, not exactly the most open-minded and progressive time in human history, and YET it felt more humanizing of a portrayal than many trans women get in 2023. If a straight, white, cis, heterosexual man were to conduct this interview today, the questions asked would be far more violent, ignorant, and would come from a place of pure, predestined fear and hatred. Trans healthcare is now discussed far more than it was in the 60s, but it’s also nearly just as hard to come by. Initially, my only fear with watching these docs was that they could potentially be sad or upsetting to me—as any documentary can be to this critic and adult baby. But quite the opposite was true. In viewing these very different but very vibrant queer docs, I felt inspired. I was in awe of the self-acceptance and still-relevant language used, and I was shocked to see how progressive the perspectives were considering these films were made in the 60s and 80s. If any sadness was felt on my end, it’s because I realized how far we’ve fallen from these places of acceptance and positive interest towards those who are marginalized by society. How bold and confident those men were in Tongues Untied, marching through the streets, carrying signs that read “Black men loving Black men'“, when, nowadays, that seems like a recipe for getting shot. It’s not just that bigots have gotten louder and prouder, it’s that guns have, too. While there was no shortage of hatred and vitriol for queer people in the 60s and the 80s (especially during AIDS), there was seemingly less of a threat of imminent death by one’s neighbor, which is a terrifying and depressing thing to realize. Though the future of queer rights is uncertain, the fight and the message remain the same as it was thirty, forty, fifty years ago. Silence equals death, trans women are women, trans men are men, nonbinary and gender-nonconforming people have been around forever, and LGBTQ+ members of society not only deserve a spot in this world, but they make it a better, brighter place to live in. I hope you’ll continue to check in this Pride Month, to see what other queer films there are to be explored, and to learn everything there is to be learned about queer film history. See you next Thursgay!