Set in a mining town in the interiors of Chile in the early 1980s, Diego Cespedes’ debut feature film La misteriosa mirada del flamenco (The Mysterious Gaze of the Flamingo) is an affecting portrait of a family and community of transgender women seen through the eyes of its beloved 12-year-old godchild Lidia (Tamara Cortes). She is the apple of her guardian/mother Flamenco’s (Matias Catalan) eyes, as much an object of the matriarch of the commune, the elderly Mama Boa’s (Paula Dinamarca), affection.
Beyond that, the film is also a vital documentation of humanity’s early encounters with AIDS and the many myths and misinformation that came to surround the disease back then. Is this plague transmitted through just a simple look exchanged between two gay men or between a gay man and a transgender woman? So, are the lovebirds Flamenco and Yovani (Pedro Munoz) responsible for its spread in the Chilean town? What to make of Boa’s own love and marriage then with Clemente (Luis Dubó)? Lidia has to embark on the search for truth and seek vengeance for the injustices heaped on her loved ones in the face of such ungrounded but terrifying assumptions.
Cespedes’ is a distinctive AIDS narrative, quite unlike the ones preceding it in cinematic history. He places the HIV crisis in an uncharted zone and lends it a supernatural, metaphysical touch. On the one hand are the fears and apprehensions of the queer community about the transmission of the disease and on the other the ignorance, prejudices and hatred of the straight people against them, the otherising fuelled even more by the spreading affliction.
But, most so, he underlines the power of family in the face of adversity, even as he redefines its contours beyond the traditional understanding. Families can be non-biological because all that matters is the love and care that they are built on as is the case of the transgender family Cespedes brings to life on screen. Family is the security, shelter and sanctuary we all need, the real vaccine against illnesses of all kinds.
The barren, dusty landscape gives the feel of an American Western but is punctured by the colours and brightness, verve and vitality of the trans community. They are all named after colourful birds with drab and dull miners on their hunt. This sense of contrasts and contradictions takes several other forms—the emotions and drama get interspersed with humour, violence gets balanced by unconditional love and brutality is offset by tremendous grace. Cespedes’ narrative does get needlessly protracted and overtly didactic at points but he does manage to create a compelling universe thanks to the production design (Nicolas Roses and Oscar Rios Quiroz of the Art Department) and cinematography (Angello Faccini). A world that you carry home and that stays in your mind long after the film is over.
Needless to say, Cespedes gets ample strength and support from his phenomenal large ensemble. Cortes brings an unusual depth to her character that goes way beyond her young age. Dinamarca is spontaneous and natural as Mama Boa, despite being a non-professional actor. The most compelling presence is of Catalan as Flamenco who uses body language, face and expressive eyes to great effect. Totally mesmerising!
In the pride month, and with transgender rights under siege globally, specially USA and UK, it feels fitting to look back at the Chile-France-Germany-Spain-Belgium co-production that won the Un Certain Regard prize at the recently concluded Cannes Film Festival. The bigotry and otherising at its core haven’t quite gone away but have acquired myriad other forms, be it to do with sexuality or caste, class, gender or religion.