Thereafter (Después)

Short

Albert and Sixten are getting married. Today. The only problem is that if they were completely honest with each other, they shouldn’t even be a couple anymore.

Feature

After Nino shows Iva the ropes, the two cable car drivers woo one another in increasingly ingenious ways. Day after day, the young women pass high above a quiet Georgian valley twisted with mist, cherishing each moment of connection. But when sweetness slides into sensuality, where will it send them? A man has died, his coffin carted above the village, and Iva (Mathilde Irrmann) inherits his crooked home and high-flying occupation. At first, villagers treat her with an enigmatic disdain, and she spends her days transporting customers and goods back and forth in disquiet, stealing glances at Nino (Nini Soselia). The flirtation grows as intense as their ongoing chess game, set to the rhythm of the rusted gears and their little kindnesses. Together, they will take on a surly widow (Niara Chichinadze) and lecherous boss (Zuka Papuashvili) as their courtship reaches new heights. Auteur Veit Helmer’s Gondola has the raw intensity of silent cinema and the enchanting whimsy of Amélie. Impelled by its beguiling leads and breathtaking cinematography, the film is a love letter to the countryside and those who live there, and an invitation to let your heart soar.

Documentary

Spoiler alert: chances are if you were watching television in spring 2016, you witnessed the startling peak of the Bury Your Gays trope. LGBTQ+ females from Buffy’s Tara to The 100’s Lexa have gotten the axe and this wry exposé investigates the dismaying trend and ensuing sea change. Bouncing back and forth from Toronto to culture hubs like L.A. and London, Bulletproof unfolds like the plot of a great mystery. There are the victims: queer female characters. The murderers: harried television writers, showrunners, and producers who, for a myriad of reasons that the doc unpacks, have chosen to kill off fan-favourites. And then there are the detectives: a “rainbow network” of journalists, media psychologists, fan community leaders, and many more who dissect the catalysts and impacts of shifting queer depictions. Not to mention the documentarian themself, “gay as hell” TV junkie Regan Latimer on year six of what was supposed to be a one year project, uncovering personal, societal, and scientific revelations alongside their wise-cracking on-screen surrogate, Lindy Zucker. Through clever references and animation, Bulletproof proves that representation has life-or-death stakes and fantasy can be as essential as reality.

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This homage to Bollywood spectacle and intergenerational bonds is a time-hopping, candy-coloured crowd pleaser that induces huge smiles and big laughs while also tackling the resonant themes of enforced gender roles, passive racism, and the seismic shifts of growing up. Azra (a stunning Amrit Kaur) lives in cohabitating sexual bliss with her girlfriend in Toronto in the VHS-popping 90s when she receives news of her father’s death. One voltaic match cut later and she’s on a plane for the funeral in Pakistan with her brother (Ali A. Kazmi), where her mother (Ms. Marvel’s Nimra Bucha) nitpicks and her culture shuts her out of the mourning process. Then another and we’re in 1969 Karachi, swept up in the whirlwind romance of Azra’s rule-breaking mother (also played by Amrit Kaur, underscoring mother-daughter parallels) and dashing father (Hamza Haq) before their tough transition to 1989 Nova Scotia. Each temporal hop peeling back another layer of how Azra’s family dynamic came to be. The Queen of My Dreams is itself a moviegoer’s dream, chock-full of eye-popping visuals, high production value, and fantastic fashion. Revealing how salvation can come in unlikely ways from unlikely sources.

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The work of Two-Spirit, nêhiyaw (Cree) artist George Littlechild took the reality of residential schools head-on decades before it would enter the collective Canadian conscience. A Sixties Scoop survivor, Littlechild uses his “whimsical,” improvised technique to unlock colourful exuberance and long-held trauma. Conor McNally, a Métis filmmaker, honours his journey. Littlechild was given his great grandfather’s name, nanekawâsis, at a Powwow in 2001. Both Littlechild and the eponymously named film embody its meaning: “swift child.” As we pay witness to a childhood shuffled between foster homes and Littlechild’s emergence as a fleet-fingered artist, the documentary makes fluid connections between past and present. Archival footage blends with warmly tinted 16mm interviews of 65-year-old Littlechild, still evolving in his practice, still passing on his deeply felt knowledge of his ancestry and “Rainbow” spirit. Whereas his partner, John Powell, uses art to govern his freewheeling tendencies, Littlechild harnesses paint to break free of his circumscribed daily life, healing himself and his audience through enlightened transcendence. nanekawâsis begins and ends with a sky full of colour, beautifully eliding time, revealing how light and dark, expectancy and reflection are all indispensable parts of life’s circle.

Short

Two incarcerated women in a secure Northern Québec forest are subjected to the hard labour of reforestation. They enjoy a little area of freedom they’ve managed to create thanks to an empathetic prison guard.

Feature

PORTUGUESE • ENGLISH ST | Wellington (defiantly nicknamed Baby) trades his detention centre cell for the streets of São Paulo, absorbed into the life of an in-demand “escort” with old school methods. Torn between this erotic father figure, two chosen families, and the mother who left him, Wellington must discern which link is the strongest. Against a backdrop of corrupt cops, vengeful kingpins, and Brazilian ball culture, maybe-18-year-old Wellington (João Pedro Mariano) falls for 42-year-old sex worker cum drug dealer Ronaldo (Ricardo Teodoro), who has a son not much younger than Wellington being raised by lesbian mothers. The two share a charged, teasing bond with yo-yoing power dynamics. Wellington softens Ronaldo, schooling him in voguing’s ebullience and showing him his battle scars, while Ronaldo grounds his protege, giving him boxing lessons while doling out paternal advice and setting strict boundaries. Boundaries that Ronaldo is desperate to maintain and Wellington comes to resent when youthful potential and a biological parent draw him away. Propelled by Marcelo Caetano’s stylish direction, this gritty coming-of-age tale wrestles with themes of love and coercion, considering what’s still possible for a restless heart when a ‘baby’ becomes a man.

Short

The filmmaker aka Tranie Tronic tells the tale of the incident that inspired their latest album Transgression and brings awareness to the potential dangers of dating men online.

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DUTCH • FRENCH ST | Capturing the recklessness of youth and the excitement of newfound sexual liberties in sensuous black-and-white cinematography, Dennis Alink’s Out offers up a vivid and tender tale of being young and gay. Tom (Bas Keizer, in a star-making performance) and Ajani (an effervescent Jefferson Yaw Frempong-Manson) are closeted secondary school sweethearts who yearn for life outside of their small-minded, rural community in the Netherlands. Their solution is Amsterdam, where the queer scene is thriving and they can work at their dreams of becoming filmmakers. Quickly falling into the Dutch capital’s gay nightlife offers the pair some initial thrills: cheeky games of Never Have I Ever, limo rides across the city, eye-opening trips to the bathhouse. But the challenges quickly follow, pushing them to separately question: “Who am I, and where do I fit in?” Recalling such classic monochromatic films about wayward youth as The Last Picture Show and Gus Van Sant’s Mala Noche, Alink and his queer collaborators present a lived-in, piercing portrait that proves coming out isn’t just a pronouncement of one’s sexuality, it’s a simultaneously joyous and heartbreaking journey of self-discovery.

Short

Robin is a young woman who lives alone above a gas station in North Bay. Every night she watches truckers fill their tanks up and munch on pepperettes. Robin has a secret. Robin is a porn addict. Robin can’t feel anything anymore.