i saw take this waltz on friday and it made me feel… A LOT. it made me feel a million kinds of homesick. homesick for a place i never really considered home when i lived there, and that i don’t think of as home now…. i suppose it’s more accurate to say it made me nostalgic for the time i lived on kensington avenue. a time when my best friend lived a bike ride away, when my neighbours were cool folks who turned into great friends, where i had a queer community, where flirting happened every other day, not once a month.
the whole time in the theatre, every time the characters went somewhere familiar to me, i held back my groans. it felt like a two hour ad for how beautiful toronto is in the summer at some points!
i think i need to see it again to try and not be distracted by the streets that were my home for almost a year.
this is part of why i didn’t pursue film studies more actively. i know my emotions get in the way all the time. constantly nostalgic, this bitch.
i had this conversation with my friend deegan after i told him how much i loved southern comfort. every film with a trans character follows one of two plotlines: how they died too young/were murdered because they were trans or the trans person is a psychotic murderer driven mad by their desire to be the “opposite” gender. it’s so fucking shitty. even when we’re telling the stories of real people we feel the need to impose these scripts on them. where’s the multiplicity of stories? or representations?