The Haunting Pain of Casual Representation of CALL ME BY YOUR NAME and PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE
One of the leading conversations in cinema is representation within film. Where at once diversity was considered a risky move, it now has become a praiseworthy inclusion and with recent pushes for diversity on screen, various film studios have tried to add these elements to give themselves social credit. Often these attempts feel cheap and have garnered criticism both from the general public and the underrepresented groups who are supposed to be benefiting from this inclusion. From Disney putting out press releases touting their social progress for including a single line or scene of LGBTQ+ representation in films like The Shape of Water, which feature a queer character without exploring any nuance or deeper message beyond there simply being a gay character who is suffering for their identity.
Where any positive representation is better than no representation, there still is a way to go before true representation is found in the large studio films. With that said, there also has been a boom recently in queer foreign and independent cinema offering unique and powerful messages of love in the queer world. Luca Guadagnino's Call Me by Your Name and Céline Sciamma's Portrait of a Lady on Fire are two of the most impactful films in recent memory, leaving a heartbreaking impact on audiences with their authenticity and ability to capture genuine emotional heartbreak. Where these two films stand out openly as pieces of queer cinema, part of their beauty and ability to connect with universal audiences is their refusal to make their stories defined only by their queer identity.
The modern queer identity in large studio films is defined by two paths, empowerment and pain. In films trying to give their queer representation substance beyond being a kiss in the background of a scene, films tend to feel the need to try and make a statement with their representation. Where some show queer characters rising to new heights and overcoming any hate they face, the more popular option is to show LGBTQ+ characters at their lowest getting both mentally and physically, beaten down for who they are. Where these scenes in theory might invoke sympathy for the community, it quickly has become a cheap excuse for queer representation that doesn't capture any nuance or depth for the community. The reason why films go with these ideas is the mindset, there is a sense that a queer story must be crafted and special showcasing the uniqueness of the individuals.
The truth is the LGBTQ+ experience in many ways is very similar to that of the straight experience. Where there are fundamental differences such as having to come out to anyone, someone from the LGBTQ+ community wants to be able to express themselves fully to, while dealing with hate from select groups. Neither of these details completely define the true LGBTQ+ experience or drastically change the emotions those individuals face. This is something that both Call Me By Your Name and Portrait of a Lady on Fire understand to haunting effects.
Both Call Me By Your Name and Portrait of a Lady on Fire are undeniable queer films. Capturing two young men falling in love over the course of one summer in a small town in Northern Italy and two women falling for each other on a remote island over the course of a week, both films are capturing characters and relationships of the queer identity. What is missing from both films, however, is the standard conflicts normally posed against queer characters. In both films, there is not a single character that attacks the leads for their sexual orientation or love they have for each other. This isn't to say that the films are unaware of the conflicts that can come from a queer relationship as Oliver from Call Me By Your Name initially rejects the moves from Elio in fear of causing drama in the town around them, but the characters quickly and naturally move on from that conflict with the film never bringing it back for a moment of cheap drama.
According to the logic brought by large studios, the refusal to put these queer identities on a pedestal should make these stories unremarkable and passive for audiences, when it did the opposite. Far more than contrived acts of violence and judgment against the LGBTQ+ community, what will stick with both LGBTQ+ and other audiences is the universal emotions everyone faces. Both stories are remarkably similar on an emotional level, two characters find each other and immediately are drawn to each other despite the inevitability of time. Both relationships are cursed, at the end of the summer Oliver will return home to America and as soon as the week is done and her painting is complete, Marianne will return to the mainland and Héloïse will be married. Even the purest love that these characters have for each other are powerless to their circumstances and the films end with the protagonists forever hurt by the heartbreak of not being able to be with those who they love.
Love is something nearly everyone experiences and is tied to pain. From liking someone who doesn't return the emotions to a relationship simply not working out, most have someone and some love that haunts them even if they are not defined by that love. Call Me by Your Name and Portrait of a Lady on Fire are haunting because they are relatable in this aspect, drawing emotion not just from the film but from within the audience themselves, connecting the two.
Representation is about seeing oneself on screen. It leads to feeling seen and validated which can be as empowering as it can be crushing. The truth is, for most LGBTQ+ identifying audience members they are going to be able to relate to the scars characters suffer in Call Me By Your Name and Portrait of a Lady on Fire much more than the scars from films like Green Book and The Shape of Water to name only a couple of examples. Not only does casual representation capturing queer identities dealing with universal emotions leave a larger lasting impact often on all audiences but they also work towards bringing the LGBTQ+ community closer to straight audiences rather than further way.
In an argument going back to the works of Diane Arbus, even if there are good intentions, the act of putting a community on a pedestal can have harmful side effects. Constantly showing the LGBTQ+ as being different and separated from average stories and emotional journeys can lead to audiences viewing the community as different in a negative sense. The truth is, the LGBTQ+ community are just normal people with a slight difference in their identity that hopefully will be seen as just normal members of society making the differences such as having to come out smaller and less of such a large deal. Constantly showing LGBTQ+ characters separate slows this movement down and is a clear let down for what representation should mean to non-LGBTQ+ audiences especially.
Where there are clear improvements that need to be made in larger films, it is incredible to see films like Call Me By Your Name and Portrait of a Lady on Fire not only serve as great moments of representation leaving an impact both on LGBTQ+ and non LGBTQ+ audiences but also proving that films can showcase LGBTQ+ stories dealing with universal and casual emotions and still be captivating for all audiences. Hopefully the general showcase of queer characters can follow suit soon, but for now these films will stand out as gems in a mine that contains plenty of fool’s gold.
