Nearly three decades removed from Jennie Livingston’s influential documentary Paris is Burning, Swedish filmmaker Sara Jordenö’s nonfiction feature, Kiki, returns to the world of New York City’s underground ballroom culture. Though now it’s far removed from the rough and tumble scene of the early ‘90s, which more often than not was unfriendly toward the LGBTQ youth of color that occupied the space. The more inclusive kiki scene, thoughtfully and faithfully depicted by Jordenö and co-writer Twiggy Pucci Garçon, provides marginalized voguers the opportunity to not only walk and slay in the tradition of underground ballroom, but also receive HIV testing and other services specially related to the LGBTQ community. In both kiki the community and Kiki the film, voguing is both performance art and human survival, and even if Jordenö’s formal strategies remain largely conventional, the time spent in this scene is both satisfying and enlightening.
As one of underground ballroom’s most prominent caretakers, Garçon grants Jordenö unfettered access to kiki’s various dance houses, whose monikers indicate a high level of theatrical street smarts, from the House of Amazura to the House of Unbothered Cartier. More prominently, however, the array of pocket communities within the larger scene speaks to a broad gender and identity spectrum, and the lack of boundaries feels part and parcel with the aesthetic values of the community itself. Whereas the houses depicted in Paris is Burning were firmly beholden to drag genealogy and gripped by the sort of petty squabbling and combativeness inherent to cliques and in-groups, kiki embraces 21st century forms of exhibitionism and inclusion. A large portion of the kiki identity is encompassed by the conscious split from—ironic as it sounds—outmoded underground ballroom traditions, and both the filmmakers and the performers have little patience for scene politics.
There’s plenty of room, though, for other kinds of politics. By largely narrowing the focus to young trans people of color, the film reveals an increasingly hypocritical strain within media-driven LGBTQ narratives. One voguer highlights the fact that the marriage equality movement that only rose to prominence when white middle class people finally got on board, while marginalized transgender communities were and remain unrepresented. The conspicuous absence of prominent celebrity trans figures like Caitlyn Jenner makes it clear that the kiki struggle for identity, visibility and civil rights is not aided by a Vanity Fair cover. Moving beyond the mental anguish caused by transphobia, the film also considers the harsh realities of basic survival. With limited access to employment, many trans youth, including those in the kiki scene, turn to sex work, where trans people are often targets for violence.
With their bodies under attack, Kiki shows us how these performers use those same bodies for art, expression and protest. Jordenö’s camera is largely inactive and observant, contributing to the film’s overall staid and modest style, but in moments when we observe voguing in action, the approach complements the joyfully defiant performances on display. Limbs flail and bodies heave with ungraceful rhythm in utter celebration of queer figures as they move through space, and their imperfect gestures express the singular beauty of trans life while also highlighting the uniqueness of each individual kiki performer. We get such an acute sense of them, in fact, that when Jordenö switches to simple talking head sequences, something feels lost. Even when the subjects share tragic and moving personal stories, there’s a sense that we’re only seeing a part of the whole.
And therein lies perhaps the largest gap between current voguers and the voguers of yore. The subjects of Paris is Burning weren’t accustomed to being in front of a camera, and while they eagerly embraced all matters of performance and showcase, they were personally closed-off, resulting in spontaneous moments of catharsis whenever they let their guard down. In Kiki, the subjects are so obedient to the camera and already so fluent in the language of digital image-making that it often feels like there’s little for Jordenö to discover. The subjects, essentially, do her job for her, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing: As transgender people fight for visibility nationwide, in Kiki, their identities are theirs and theirs alone to demonstrate.
The post Kiki appeared first on Spectrum Culture.