LGBT on film: Queer & Trans* Deaf & Disabled Video Project

In Sandra Alland’s documentary I’m Not Your Inspiration, artist Nathan Gale recounts watching TV talent show Got to Dance when a troupe of dancers with Down’s syndrome appeared, accompanied by typically sentimental music and patronising commentary. This is what Gale refers to as ‘inspiration porn’: using disabled performers to make non-disabled audiences feel good about themselves.

Alland’s film is one half of a commission from LGBT History Month Scotland to produce a work about queer and trans disabled and deaf artists. The second half was a mentorship of six emerging artists and the resultant shorts are screening in Edinburgh in April. They mix poetry, drawing, video diary, a cookery show and more in a blend of fiction and documentary, all forming a necessary counterpoint to the clichés and condescension disabled people at times experience.

There’s a strong confessional mode to several of the films. The Tale of Divarov The Absent-Minded features Charles Coventry describing falling in love later in life with a man who lives in the US. Coventry shares holiday snaps and tales of their first meeting – and explains why arbitrary circumstances mean the couple can be together only on a long-distance basis – making for a bravely honest and affecting yarn. Sophie Norman shares her fears of the colour maroon and the Glasgow Necropolis in An Exploration of My Schizophrenia. She retraces a visit to the cemetery, replete with camera crew, to try to overcome her anxieties.

Alison Smith’s Kettle’s Boiling offers a rhythmic contemplation of the everyday mixed with memories and existential musings. Smith, who has previously exhibited BSL (British Sign Language) poems at GoMA and Birmingham’s SHOUT festival, chooses Kelvingrove Park as a backdrop for her recital, a place of childhood significance for the artist. Luke’s Sketchbook is a similarly candid expression of pain and the quest for acceptance from trans artist Luke Murphy. He articulates his narrative, this time, via sketches and intermittent blasting music.

Veering more towards pastiche of pop genres are Day 12,848 and Glamour Cook with DeafDiva. Alec’s Day 12,848 is an agoraphobe’s answer to a Hollywood sci-fi. Set in a tip of a flat, a reluctant protagonist hides under his duvet, makes endless cups of tea, and plots to sort out his life without much success. Clearly drawing inspiration from such curser-flashing fare as RoboCop and The Matrix, any film geek can relate to Alec’s problematic relationship with reality. Glamour Cook with DeafDiva brings out the sexy subtext barely hidden in the likes of Nigella, Jamie, and Delia’s culinary TV displays. Filmmaker Robert Malone demonstrates how to prepare a diva using simple ingredients of make-up, clothes, and wig. A possible exposition of the gender-performative nature of cisgender celebrities on the cookery show circuit, Malone has so much fun concocting his creation, you can’t help but wish Ready, Steady, Cook had more trans* chefs on its roster.

Sandra Alland’s project is also designed to steer some attention towards disability within Scotland’s LGBT scene. Gale notes how body fascism amongst queer communities often results in ignorance and dismissal of people who aren’t able-bodied. The same can be said for filmmaking, with mainstream movies tending to villainise, make fun of, or marginalise characters who don’t exhibit idealised traits of body and mind. (See Javier Bardem’s facially disfigured baddie in Skyfall or the fat kid with learning disabilities in Ted for some particularly obnoxious recent examples.) This collection of shorts is thus antidote and celebration in one, staying away from inspiration-pornography and stereotypes while fostering a diverse selection of homegrown talent.