An Army of Lovers at the Toronto Jewish Film Festival

13 Oct 2020

Confusion and more than a little panic reign in the cinematic universe. No-one knows when theatres will re-open and that not only makes plans for distribution a nightmare, it precludes big, splashy launches at film festivals. Both TIFF and Inside Out came and went with barely a ripple, even though they hyped their combination of drive-in screenings, socially distanced screenings, and online screenings. And now, in the midst of the second wave of 'rona, the Toronto Jewish Film Festival (TJFF) has gone completely online. Think of it as a curated, specialized streaming service. 

Each year the TJFF features at least a few specifically queer films and always many fascinating films. This year's "Centrepiece Film" - appropriately screening/streaming on the day before gay Christmas and then on Halloween itself - is Army of Lovers in the Holy Land. It is a weird and wonderful documentary that has very little to do with its self-description of a documentation of the outrageously queer band's appearance at Tel Aviv Pride in 2017. The implied conflict between a religious state and deliberately provocative gay disco band never occurs. Instead the film becomes two intersecting narratives, both wildly entertaining.

Army of Lovers was never a success in North America and their claims to be bigger than ABBA in their native Sweden and Europe are suspect. But they don't let this opportunity to have the VHS Behind the Music hagiography they never got pass. The three principles - Jean-Pierre Barda, Alexander Bard and Dominika Peczynski - are seasoned media manipulators and they gleefully expound on how fabulous and revolutionary they are. They happily admit that they didn't sing or play any instruments on their recordings and that their success was all due to "we are good at wearing high heels, far above average."

Their "musical director" gets in a few words here and there but the project's attempt to ignite a multi-sexual revolution is the focus. Lip-synching, along with a little dancing and the ability to flaunt social norms and wear costumes effectively, is their art form. Brant is philosophical but all three keep their tongues firmly in their cheeks. The concert footage is hilarious and the video clips will have viewers racing to YouTube. I do own a couple of Army of Lovers CDs from the days when I searched out anything musical that was specifically gay, and because of the link to Will Munro's battle cry.  

Running parallel is a serious, as serious as Army of Lovers in the Holy Land allows itself to get, documentary about Barda's emigration to Israel. It alternates between a serious exploration of his Jewish roots and a spoof of a flaming gay man adjusting to life after stardom. Intriguingly, Peczynski has a similarly compelling and more intense story but it is glossed over. A lot is glossed over. A fourth member of the band is mentioned when she joined but is never heard of again. A controversial single, "Israelism," that was a scandal in Israel is described, as is the furor after its release, but it seems to have no bearing on Barda's emigration or the Pride appearance. However the very last few minutes of the film include a close-up of Barda performing, and his naked expressions reframe the entire film and the Army of Lovers experience. A powerful finish to a fun film.

The TJFF's opening night film is also gay-themed. Sublet is a "sensual" inter-generational tale of an uptight travel writer who rooms with a sexually promiscuous film student resulting in "emotional liberation" for both. The distributor expects it to be a hit on the level of Call Me By Your Name, so no screeners were available for my perusal, and this may be your only chance to enjoy the film until theatres re-open, whenever that may be. 
I did savour the first half of Minyan before life (and a horror b-movie marathon on TCM) intervened. Minyan is a lush intriguing struggling to come out story set in late '86 Brighton Beach. The bullied protagonist  David (Samuel H Levine) sublimates his urges into repressed violence and vodka. He loves his grandfather - the always extraordinary Ron Rifkin - who mutters epigrams and is devout. Minyan begins slowly and uses the novelistic technique of skipping dramatic confrontations and showing the aftermath. There is a lovely passage where the grandfather advises David that "all the answers are in the book," meaning the Torah, and David goes to the library to read James Baldwin's Giovanni's Room.

But David's longing to become part of the culture of the gay bar named 'Nowhere,' his perpetual unfulfilled cruising, and his crush on a hunky friend, are familiar and achingly portrayed. I have to finish viewing as I have yet to fully understand the multiple familial relationships. Or the many specifically Jewish references (a "minyan" is quorum of 10 men who are necessary to worship). And to get to the sex scenes that I admit I fast-forwarded to out of curiosity.

Also explicitly LGBTQ is Shiva Baby which has screened to great acclaim at both TIFF and Inside Out. Danielle is a student of gender studies who pays part of her tuition in sex work. She attends a shiva with her parents and runs into both her former high school sweetheart Maya and her current sugar daddy. Hilarity ensues. I'm personally also curious about a biography of Bess Myerson titled The One and Only Jewish Miss America and the food porn epic Breaking Bread, where Jewish and Arab chefs are paired to collaborate on traditional recipes. And that is only scraping the surface of the catalogue of what is on offer . . .