A new documentary tells the story of lesbians on… | Little White Lies

Queer Cinema

A new doc­u­men­tary tells the sto­ry of les­bians on screen

07 Dec 2018

Words by Katie Goh

Two people with reddish hair sit together, gazing out a window in a warm, sunlit setting.
Two people with reddish hair sit together, gazing out a window in a warm, sunlit setting.
Dykes, Cam­era, Action! fea­tures first-hand accounts from Bar­bara Ham­mer and Desiree Akhavan.

When Car­o­line Berler was under­tak­ing a doc­u­men­tary degree at the School of Visu­al Arts in Man­hat­tan, she nev­er imag­ined that her final year project would include con­tri­bu­tions from Bar­bara Ham­mer, Rose Troche or Desiree Akha­van. I was just search­ing for the right sto­ry,” explains Berler, I want­ed some­thing that would cap­ture my voice and was authen­tic to me, that was some­thing I loved and want­ed to work on for a long peri­od of time.”

Time was run­ning out when she ran into Rose Troche, direc­tor of 1994’s les­bian cult clas­sic Go Fish and TV’s The L Word, at a New York par­ty. The L Word was real­ly impor­tant when I was com­ing up and com­ing out,” says Berler. A few months lat­er, Berler emailed Troche ask­ing if she could inter­view her for her assign­ment, what would became her direc­to­r­i­al debut, Dykes, Cam­era, Action!.

After ini­tial­ly con­ceiv­ing the project as a doc­u­men­tary about les­bian cin­e­ma in the 90s, Berler quick­ly realised that the idea need­ed to be expand­ed. She began by start­ing with the 70s, when mod­ern LGBT cin­e­ma start­ed, and bring­ing it up to the future with the 90s as the cli­mat­ic moment.” As well as Troche, the doc­u­men­tary fea­tures film­mak­ers Desiree Akha­van, Su Friedrich and Bar­bara Ham­mer as well as the film crit­ic B Ruby Rich.

Grow­ing up in sub­ur­ban Texas, Berler’s dis­cov­ery of queer cin­e­ma went hand-in-hand with the dis­cov­ery of her own sex­u­al­i­ty. My brother’s also gay and we didn’t know any gay adults grow­ing up,” she reflects. We were obsessed with movies and any access to a greater cul­ture than the one we were expe­ri­enc­ing around us. The films for me were real­ly impor­tant because they showed gay adults hav­ing love, hav­ing rela­tion­ships, and it seemed like if I moved to an urban cen­tre I could find a girl­friend and have a nice life so that’s sort of what I did. I loved High Art and But I’m a Cheer­leader. I was just glad to see a les­bian on screen.”

Dykes, Cam­eras, Action! reflects on the role les­bian cin­e­ma played with­in queer activism, par­tic­u­lar­ly in the lat­ter half of the 20th cen­tu­ry. Activist films like 1993’s The Les­bian Avengers Eat Fire, Too were as much doc­u­men­taries as polit­i­cal man­i­festos. I think being a film­mak­er is polit­i­cal and I think being a les­bian is polit­i­cal,” says Berler. They just seem inher­ent­ly inter­twined to me, there’s no ques­tion about that. Film was being used as a tool for social change. When soci­ety told these women that they were wrong, they made these films and it changed the world.”

In the film, the var­i­ous par­tic­i­pants reflect on what it was like cre­at­ing les­bian films with­out the prece­dent of queer cin­e­ma. At one point Ham­mer states that the, patri­ar­chal con­trol of film his­to­ry changed my life. There was def­i­nite­ly a need for my cin­e­ma.” Berler admits that this line still gives her chills when­ev­er she hears it. She deliv­ers it with such con­vic­tion. This has been her thing for her whole life, her career has been about break­ing through and she was the first to do these sorts of movies.”

Berler’s film is sim­i­lar­ly break­ing new ground: it is the first doc­u­men­tary to focus specif­i­cal­ly and exclu­sive­ly on les­bian cin­e­ma. While the project allowed Berler to reflect on past clas­sics with fresh eyes, it also allowed her to dis­cov­er less­er-known and for­got­ten works, expand­ing the queer canon. For exam­ple, Cheryl Dun­ye, who made The Water­mel­on Woman in 1996, and Vicky Du who made Gayasians in 2016, are two woman of colour who are often obscured from the main­stream, white-washed his­to­ry of queer cinema.

As the doc­u­men­tary is chrono­log­i­cal, Berler was able to pick up on recur­ring pat­terns and themes, most notably the trend towards films about les­bians being made by men, such as Todd Haynes’ Car­ol and Abdel­latif Kechiche’s Blue is the Warmest Colour. In the film, there is a clear divide between those who believe queer films should be made exclu­sive­ly by queer peo­ple and those who believe any­one can make a film about anything.

Berler her­self sits in between the two argu­ments. There’s some­thing a lit­tle more authen­tic [about queer films being made by queer peo­ple], but that’s not to say that some­one else can’t feel empa­thy and find some­thing that they can con­nect to about some­one in a sto­ry from anoth­er social group. I do think that les­bians need to be able to tell their own sto­ries, they are the most impor­tant peo­ple who tell les­bian stories.

I think Desiree cap­tured it beau­ti­ful­ly,” Berler con­cludes. She says for film to mat­ter it has to have some urgency and I think that’s par­tic­u­lar­ly why queer cin­e­ma made by queer peo­ple is so impor­tant, and if you go queer film fes­ti­vals, you see it brings togeth­er this com­mu­ni­ty that shares this his­to­ry and one they feel so pas­sion­ate­ly about. It means so much.”

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