City of Borders
USA/Israel/Palestine, 2009, 66 minutes
Director: Yun Suh
As tension in the Israeli-Palestine conflict continues to mount with no sign of subsiding, it’s sad—but morbidly amusing nonetheless—to know that there’s another angle to the mess mostly forgotten or ignored, one which apparently trumps religious prejudice. What is this amazing elixir of peace? Why, it’s the common hate for homosexuality, of course.
In City of Borders, we get to see a glimpse of the severely ostracized gay community in the holy city of Jerusalem, smack dab in ground zero of Christian, Muslim and Jewish zealotry. The religious conflict plays a very big part in the attitude of those who oppose homosexuality, as a large chunk of the problem stems from a fanatical devotion to religious pride. But noting that members of the gay community have transcended that isn’t out of the ordinary; more remarkable is the coming together of the bigots, unaware of the irony of their actions. As Sa’ar, an openly gay city council member, refuses to stay underground and adopts the “loud and proud” model—even arranging a gay pride parade—the hostility is so great that religious camps of all three religion forge a coalition of hate, seen here standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the name of protecting the sanctity of Jerusalem.
That isn’t to say that there aren’t deeply religious homosexuals, however. Boody, a drag queen from the West Bank, is a devout Muslim who thanks Allah for making him the way he is. The individual struggle between sexual identity and religious obedience is a phenomenally interesting topic, but City of Borders doesn’t quite grasp even the tip of that dilemma, taking it for granted and preferring the nostalgic stories of its couples' love lives. It’s a nice glimpse, but nowhere near as revelatory as it should be.
Like Empress Hotel, City of Borders is not much to look at, nor does it have any style to boast; the strength relies solely on its subjects, which is a double-edged sword considering it puts too much of its focus on a specific institution rather than an idea, which in this case is Jerusalem’s only gay bar, Sushan, described by its patrons as their oasis in the desert. While the religion-fueled bigotry is no doubt amplified in such a place, the conflict feel all too familiar and not much is there to invest in. The most eye-opening scene in City of Borders depicts the gay community in Tel Aviv speaking out against the Jerusalem pride movement for drawing unnecessary and dangerous attention from the religious community; some of them even show discomfort at the idea of flaunting their sexuality in a holy place. It would have been nice to see more of the impact of such a heavy environment on the gay community, not to mention the reactions of the residents on the side.
Tongzhi in Love
USA, 2009, 30 minutes
Director: Ruby Yang
Much better-looking and more accomplished is Tongzhi in Love, the short film accompanying City of Borders in screenings, which had its US west coast premiere at San Francisco’s Frameline Film Festival last year. This beautiful 30-minute documentary dissects the tongzhi (slang for gay man) subculture in Beijing. Here, the same problem of a homophobic authority is presented, but the oppression comes from government rather than religion.
We see this in Long Ze, who even as he expresses utter joy in fulfilling his sexual appetite for men, still plans on marrying a woman for the purposes of procreation. He berates other gays who don’t do so: “If you live your whole life for yourself, not for your parents, how are you going to fulfill your responsibilities as a Chinese man?”
He’s referring, of course, to China’s one-child law, which not only restricts the number of children you’re allowed to have, but also indoctrinates the maintaining of subsequent generations as a patriotic duty. Compared to the West, Chinese culture puts more value in the family name’s honor. We see the hardship in the film’s subjects; they’re terrified to come out of the closet not because they don’t have the courage to be honest, but because they believe that doing so would be a selfish act, and that honesty is less important than the good of others.
“My mother would commit suicide. My father would go crazy,” says Xiang Feng, eyes gleaming with tears. A hyperbolic statement, yet somehow we believe him. At least, we believe that he believes that. Xiang Feng promised himself to come out to his parents the next time he goes home, but loses his conviction once he sees how happy they are in their simple farmer life. “It’s better to let them be happy with the lies I tell them.”
Using romantic shots of Beijing’s nightlife reminiscent of early Wong Kar-wai and applying bursts of expressive animation, Tongzhi in Love tells heartbreaking and deeply personal stories of people who, depending on how you look at it, are either martyrs or victims.
