Pining for More
Indie filmmaker Onir has two agendas: to make the queer gaze a thing and to normalise LGBTQ+ romance. He’s off to a good start.
Onir
“I’m so tired of all the beautiful films we’ve seen recently with a queer narrative – The Whale, Call Me By Your Name – all ending without hope,” begins Mumbai-based Indian filmmaker Onir. “There is loss in my life, but I’m a pretty happy person. It’s why he doesn’t throw the pine cone away. It’s burnt, and you do get scarred in life, but that’s precious too.”
The “he” Onir refers to is the main character in his latest film, Pine Cone, which just screened at the ongoing Hong Kong Lesbian & Gay Film Festival (HKLGFF) to what the director, author and activist says was a lovely crowd – even if it were painfully short of representation by his peeps. “I was slightly disappointed – though not surprised – by the lack of people from the Indian sub-continent, even if they’re queer. I know they’re more hesitant, and for me you don’t need to be queer to come. Anyone with empathy and respect can come. In Bombay the queer film festival is packed, because it’s a safe space.”
It’s a Monday, and Onir is lounging in Lemna, beside the Cutlural Centre, sipping his fourth coffee of the day. It’s been a whirlwind weekend of black rain, screenings and panels, and he’s ready to go home. Though he lives there now, Onir admits growing up in Bhutan has had more of an influence on who he is than anything else. It was going to the moives every Friday in Thimphu with his mother (a teacher) and sister (now a film editor in Mumbai) that put him on the road to filmmaking, along with Satyajit Ray’s Charulata and Karel Reisz's The French Lieutenant’s Woman – and eventually Stephen Frears’ My Beautiful Launderette. “[That] made me realise the importance of not being seen anywhere … I grew up in a society where I was invisible. I wasn’t there in literature, in cinema, I wasn’t in science, I wasn’t in any conversations.” Skip to comparative literature studies in college in Kolkata (which gave him a sense of dignity) and then film in Berlin on a scholarship, and Onir finds himself one of India’s few proudly queer cinema voices, best known for his 2005 breakout My Brother… Nikhil, loosely based on the life of Indian AIDS activist Dominic D'Souza.
Despite the seriousness of Pine Cone’s subtext and it’s raison d’être, it’s a joyful film – there’s no disease, no one dies, no one is disowned by their family. Pine Cone, which had its world premiere at home at the KASHISH Mumbai International Queer Film Festival, is that rare gem of LGBTQ+ film: a conventional, modern romance that paints its queer characters with exactly the kind of normative brushes usually the exclusive purview of straight romances. The film starts with filmmaker Sid Mehra (out actor Vidur Sethi) addressing a literary festival and demanding a queer gaze in the arts. Pine Cone is semi-autobiographical (more on that in a bit) so Onir most definitely stumps for the idea of diverse voices in cinema – and elsewhere. Why get a straight guy to do research when Onir and filmmakers like him are right there? “I’m already in the position to know. There are exceptions – I love Wong Kar-wai – but the queer gaze is different. Women need to tell their own stories because the feminine gaze of the world in general is different from the male gaze. Similarly ours is different too, because of our lived experiences. And I would like to believe it’s a more inclusive vision because we’ve been excluded for too long.”
By design, the film traffics in the kind of romantic construction normally denied to queer filmmakers. By design, it conventionally explores one man’s emotional coming-of-age. “I love Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, and yeah, I kind of followed that, the idea of people just walking and talking and discovering each other,” Onir explains of rooting Pine Cone’s story in that most universal of emotional truths: the fear of being burnt. The film – which Onir hopes to have on a streaming platform by November – is told in three chapters in reverse order. It begins with a lovely day in Kochi with Sid and an admirer, Rehan (Sahib Verma), strolling and philosophising before falling into bed. In the morning, Sid is as icy as he was warm the night before, upsetting Rehan who promptly leaves. Part two flashes back to a younger Sid’s first great romance with Mohit (Amit Gurjar) in Mumbai, a romance that blew up in his face and hardened him. Part three examines that hard path young Sid (Hanun Bawra) embarked on in Sikkim, after early experimentation with his first crush, Derek (Aniket Ghosh). Each part takes place during a landmark moment in India’s LGBTQ+ rights evolution, and it never strips the characters of their voices or their sexuality – which is all that separates them from Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke.
“I asked if the cast was sure,” says Onir of his five key actors, because, surprise surprise, he had several drop-outs. “I wasn’t going to cheat on the intimacy. It was important for me to show it,” he continues. “The film is about love and desire, and I didn’t want to camouflage that the way queer narratives directed by cis gendered men and women do.” Written with Ashwini Malik and based on Onir’s book, I Am Onir & I Am Gay, Pine Cone was shot in 17 days (!) on an iPhone 13 Pro Max (!!) to maximise filming flexibilty and cut down on the need for pricey set-ups. Still, “When I see these big blockbusters I think ‘Just give me the cost of the curtains. I could make five films with that!’” he laughs before getting back on track… like that “autobiographical” part. The high school heartbreak and first significant relationship are “Almost fully true.” But the night with Rehan? “The last part was true up to the evening. I did do a talk at a literary festival. But the rest is wishful thinking!” More laughing.
And speaking of normalising the queer gaze. Pine Cone has been making the rounds on the festival circuit, and though it screened at fests in Melbourne and Stuttgart, Mumbai and Hong Kong are queer events. Don’t niche fests keep marginalised communities in the margins? Not so fast, says Onir.
“I invited as many people as possible from the mainstream industry and media to the premiere,” he argues. “It’s important that Kashish widen the door as a safe space, and also for the mainstream to come and participate, so that we’re no longer the ‘other’. But without these festivals, where is that space?” He’s not alone. Just a few weeks ago, American director Ava DuVernay (Selma) sounded off at Venice about how mainline international film festivals are, contrary to their own messaging, just not interested in films about Black people. She has a point. Those festivals are, “Not interested or not aware of what’s happening in queer narratives,” Onir adds. “What they want to look at, still, overall is darkness – dark stories about fucked up communities. I feel empowered at festivals like HKLGFF because it’s our community. There’s a shared sense of history. Same in Southeast Asia. I see the audience relating to it without this white sense of pessimism.” On top of that, he argues, inclusionary measures aren’t for the LGBTQ+ community. They’re to make the cis gendered (usually) men who dominate corporations and governments feel better. “Let’s stop pretending you’re doing this for me. It’s for you. How are you doing me a favour by giving me a space to educate you? I’m tired of making the effort to explain,” Onir scoffs.
So events like HKLGFF and Kashish aren’t going away any time soon, not when bigoted blowback on the tiniest gains and a crackdown on LGBTQ+ rights and freedoms is spreading. Exhibits A through C: Ugandan anti-gay legislation passed in March; Iraq’s parliament currently debating a death penalty law for same-sex conduct; Florida. “And the world watches. Because trade is more important than human rights. The World Cup went to a country that bans people wearing an arm band because they’re so fucking insecure in their identity. We should have said ‘No.’ I’m sorry, sports is not more important than someone’s life. I’m disappointed world leaders don’t stand up for queer rights until they need us to vote for them,” he finishes. “In terms of queer voices, our boundaries can’t be dictated by class or nationality. We have to be constantly aware of what’s going on. Everywhere.” — DEK
Where we were
34th Hong Kong Lesbian & Gay Film Festival • hklgff.hk
Lemna of the Alchemist, HKCC, Tsim Sha Tsui
Hong Kong • September 8-23, 2023