Lorna Irvine reviews an 'affecting and tender' film.
Born in 1982 in Calgary, Canada, Rae Spoon is a transgender indie/country/electro musician and writer with one hell of a back-story and gorgeous singing voice. Chelsea McMullen's haunting portrait of Spoon is half musical, half travelogue.
Spoon, who identifies as 'themselves' in a non-binary gender term (hence the plural) was raised by a schizophrenic abusive father. Both parents are Pentecostal and denounce homosexuality. The most fraught scene in the film happens when Spoon's father turns up at a homecoming gig, standing in hulking shadow at the back...but thankfully, he drives off.
Such a fraught background of religious brainwashing has inevitably tempered Spoon's songwriting. The elegiac imagery of endless horizons, culminating in snowcapped mountains of Calgary towards the end, is laced with symbolism: of roadkill, diners, lonely motel rooms and kitsch religious iconography, all of which bleed into songs like 'Sunday Dress', from which the film's title is lifted.
An eloquent, self-aware and funny presence, Spoon is a joy to watch. The prom pastiche with first love Rena is both romantic and hilarious, and a homemade tent where Spoon lip-synchs with brother Dan brings an intimacy to the film, like a video diary. There are many pop video scenes which skewer organised religion and Canadian cliches.
This sweet geek with a toy dinosaur collection is a true outsider but won't remain outside for much longer, thanks to this quietly affecting and tender film.
Screened as part of Glasgay!
www.glasgowfilm.org
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