MOVIES
Could Funny Boy be Canada’s answer to the Oscars?
Deepa Mehta’s film about queer brown love in Sri Lanka demonstrates how far she’s come as a director
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by Sirish Rao
early 25 years ago, Canadian filmmaker Deepa Mehta released Fire, a film that proved as incandescent as its name. When it hit the screens in her motherland, India, it would be the first time a mainstream film explored and presented homosexual love: two sisters-in-law (played by noted actors Shabana Azmi and Nandita Das) in a traditional Delhi household fall in love with each other. Fire took on a subject so taboo that it resulted in a death threat for Mehta and violent protests and vandalism at cinema halls where it was showing. After all, few things are more threatening to the patriarchy than women saying they don’t need men. It also was a major box-office success, spurring a civil movement in support of queer rights and free speech, with men and women holding candlelight protests in front of cinema halls and insisting the film continue to be screened. At about the same time, just over 25 years ago, another Canadian of South Asian origin—Sri Lanka–born novelist Shyam Selvadurai—released his evocative coming-of-age novel Funny Boy, about growing up gay in Sri Lanka during the Tamil-Sinhalese conflict, one of that country’s most turbulent and deadly periods. It, too, was a rarity, questioning brown masculinity and making a space for brown queer love. It went on to win a “Lammy” (as the Lambda Literary Award for gay fiction is called). In October, fans of Mehta and Selvadurai were delighted to see an announcement from another path breaker, Ava DuVernay, whose incredible directorial work includes the films 13th and Selma. DuVernay tweeted that her distribution house, Array, was set to release Mehta’s latest film, Funny Boy, on Netflix on December 10: “When you get to distribute the latest feature film from one of your cinematic heroes, it is a good day. Wow. An honor. A dream.” Mehta spoke from New Delhi, where she went to be with her inspirational 95-yearold mother, who has had to suspend her regular game of bridge with her friends because of the pandemic. What follows is an excerpt of the conversation. Sirish Rao: Deepa, every time I see a film released on this side of the planet that features a cast comprised almost entirely of brown people, I realize how rare that is. And, of course, it [Funny Boy] is set in Sri Lanka, a part of the world that gets very little representation, and it’s a story of brown queer love. Isn’t it odd that in 2020, even representation of these worlds is a rarity?
Brandon Ingram (left) plays Arjie and Rehan Mudannayake plays Shehan in Deepa Mehta’s Funny Boy, which will be released on Netflix December 10.
Deepa Mehta: What can I say? In a way, all of my films are about being brown. It started from childhood in India, where there’s plenty of shadism. People would look at me as a young girl and say, “Oh, she’s a bit too brown—who’ll marry her? Poor thing”. See how much is packed into that sentence? It’s about our colonial masters and our desire to emulate them, to be them in every way. What a legacy… But in terms of the narrative, for me, whether it was Fire or Earth, it is always about what do you do with the oppression of thought? What do you do with the repression of a fact? Why don’t we talk about things? In terms of Funny Boy, and my work, well, I just feel it’s about time we owned our narrative. For too long, South Asia has been a backdrop for the western gaze—something exotic out of a tourist brochure (when it’s not about the slums) or it’s all about Bollywood and yoga. And you know what these narratives do: they reduce us to preconceptions. I’m tired of that, I’ve always wanted to show what we are also about—which is complexity. I don’t want to be denied my history, which is that of a complex being, and, yes, sometimes that history is devastating. It took me a while (and a lot of people of my generation certainly feel it) to break free of the need to speak to the white gaze. SR: In many ways this is also a Canadian story—both you and Shyam are celebrated Canadian artists. It’s also great to see
people like Agam Darshi from Vancouver and Ali Kazmi from Toronto playing major roles. How has the Sri Lankan reaction been to the film? DM: First of all, I’m not pretending for a minute that I’m Sri Lankan. But I think it’s really, really important that this wasn’t made by a white person, who more often than not get to be the storytellers. It wasn’t so long ago that the parts of brown people were played by white people—this is not Alec Guinness in Passage to India in brownface. This film was a project where some of us who are not Sri Lankan are helping to tell a Sri Lankan story. A story that because it is deeply local becomes a universal one. So the non–Sri Lankan actors did their best to learn Tamil and Sinhala for their roles. It’s not always perfectly spoken, but imagine how ridiculous if everyone spoke in English, as often happens when you make a film for a global audience? I’m proud of the fact that 50 percent of this film is not in English. We took a lot of advice and guidance along the way, from local writers, speech guides. And once the film was done, I decided the first audience should be Sri Lankans. So we hosted underground screenings in the homes of the actors, and such a huge cross-section of people came. There were Tamils, Sinhalese, Burghers, young, old, human-rights activists, LGBTQ activists, cricketers, grandmothers, students. And
what was amazing is that the overwhelming thing they felt was the power of seeing themselves on-screen. Their lives, their history, their beloved, violent land. I’ve had people in the Sri Lankan diaspora say how it’s the story of their own life. There’s a deep personal resonance. And, you know, that personal resonance is also for others who are not Sri Lankan—people from Palestine and Egypt who’ve said that they know what it feels like to leave a homeland behind about which they have mixed emotions. To come to Canada and find their sexual identity but give up their cultural identity. SR: Funny Boy is essentially a Bildungsroman about Arjie, who is coming to terms with his sexuality at the same time he is becoming aware of the political and ethnic divisions in his country. The people who make any sort of space for him at all are rebellious women: his mother and his aunt. And the people who you centre in the film are usually the ones who have to hide or are actively silenced: queer folks and rebellious women. DM: I’m so glad you saw that! Yes, it’s about the people who are silenced. But it’s also about strong, compassionate women. What a power compassion can be! Arjie’s Aunty Radha (played by Agam Darshi) is amazing. Someone saw the film and said, “Everyone needs an Aunty Radha in their life”. And I want one too! I want an Aunty Radha.” g
OCTOBER 29 – NOVEMBER 5 / 2020
THE GEORGIA STR AIGHT
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