WHEN
KATE MET ROBERT
“It’s
not what you have down there that determines your sexuality,”says
Robert Eads. “It’s what’s here,” pointing to his heart, “and
here,” to his head, “that determine who you are.” Kate Davis’
documentary Southern Comfort charts the last year in Eads
remarkable life, but that wasn’t what she set out to do.
The
director of the award-winning Girltalk, a study of runaway
teenagers, had turned to producing for an American cable network. “I
found more opportunity to give a voice to people who aren’t usually
heard much,” she explains. But while working on a programme about
the struggle for civil rights by people who’ve undergone sex change
operations, Davis attended a conference of female to male
transsexuals. Standing out from the crowd was Eads, a bearded,
pipe-smoking man in cowboy hat and boots.
“He
broke all the stereotypes, so completely." she explains, "He
was a prototype Georgia 'bubba'. But this redneck had been the
mother of two children."
Born
into a girl’s body, Robert always felt male. He’d tried marriage,
but found childbirth “both the best and worst experience of my
life.” The joy of life inside him was countered by his despair at
feeling it was all wrong, because he was a man. He got divorced,
lived for a time as a lesbian, but finally began hormone treatments
and surgery to remove his breasts, transforming his body to match his
mind.
When
Davis met him, Eads, only 52, was dying of ovarian cancer; betrayed,
as it were, by the part of his body that remained female. When he
first noticed the symptoms, some two dozen doctors made their excuses
and declined to treat him, avoiding the awkwardness of a man in their
OBGYN surgeries. Eades' lack of bitterness made an deep impression.
“I
couldn't get him out of my mind," says Davis. "All the way
back to New York, I was thinking 'I've got to make a film about
Robert. This is such a bizarre story, I've got to tell it myself'.'
When I got home and called him he said 'I thought you'd call'.
Robert, knowing he was dying, wanted to reach out to as many people
as he could."
But
even as Davis began filming, the story began to change. Robert fell
in love with Lola, a male-to-female transsexual. As their
relationship blossomed, he became determined to stay alive long
enough to attend Southern Comfort, Atlanta's annual transgender
convention, one last time.
The
film opens in spring, with a sense of emotional rebirth as Robert
speaks of coming to terms with dying just as he finally found peace
in life. As Robert shows Lola pictures of himself as a little girl,
we see just how far he has come. Davis works with all the intimacy
of a home movie, allowing the audience to become part of Robert's
world. "Yes, you could say it's close to subjective camera
work," she says. "It gets the audience into the people's
heads, so you can't objectify them."
Documentaries
often do objectify. Davis studied with the masters of
fly-on-the-wall techniques: Frederick Wiseman, Ricky Leacock, and
Ross McElwee. The unwritten law of such films was that the camera is
a silent observer. Not so this time. "I found the camera
disappeared." Davis says, "In a sense I crossed the line.
It became totally a labour of love. Where it might have been
shocking, there was just so much normality."
In
fact, what is amazing is how quickly the audience accepts a new
definition of normality. The film's saddest moment comes when
Robert's father explains why he now tells friends Robert is his
nephew. "I didn't want the neighbours realising this is
something different," he says. At the same time, when one of
Robert's own sons tells us, "If I were to remarry I'd want Mom
to be the best man," it is uplifting, and it doesn't sound at
all strange.
Using
digital video enabled Davis to work unobtrusively, and to move
quickly to emphasise emotional reactions that larger equipment, or
crews, might miss. Having Robert's trust enabled her to gain quickly
the trust of is surrogate family, a pair of younger transexual men,
and their partners. These are people whose first instinct is to
remain inconspicuous. They appear to have chosen backwoods Georgia
specifically for the privacy it affords. And they had real fears.
"Some
were scared they'd lose their jobs, if not their lives,” Davis
says. “But they wanted to believe they could change people's
hearts and minds.” She laughs. “Of course, no one liked the way
they looked on film! But seriously, some have attended public
screenings, and when they see audiences react positively, they've
been amazed."
Southern
Comfort won the Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Festival. Its UK
premiere came at the 2001 Sheffield International Documentary Festival. I
spoke to Davis after a February 2002 screening at the National Film
Theatre, part of the Sheffield Festival's national tour. She too was
overwhelmed by audience reaction.
"This
was what he wanted. I think Robert would have approved," she
says, and her eyes begin to fill. She still feels the loss. "I
just couldn't break away," she tells me. "Usually after
you finish a film you may stay in touch, but you re-establish your
distance from your subjects. This was a real friendship. Frankly, it
took me almost a
year before I could begin editing. I miss him so." She stops
again, distracting herself by rounding up her two children. "That
year was necessary, because I was still caught up in the injustice of
Robert's death. I needed distance to cool down, to see that the story
was simpler, deeper than that. I'd actually interviewed two doctors
for the film,
but I cut them out. I didn't want an investigative report."
Instead,
it is a moving portrait of one man's difficult struggle to simply be
accepted as the man he wanted to be. Robert Eads brought dignity to
the film himself. Kate Davis might finally bring him acceptance.
3 comments :
Hi Michael,
I am a big fan of yours and wondering how to progress into Journalism. I am currently at college and shall be going to University later this year. Would there be any tips you would give to me to help me achieve me dream? If you wish to tell me, my email is sam.mace@hotmail.co.uk
Yours sincerely
Sam Mace
Wonderful, moving film. Thank you.
I've watch it probably 10 times. Have never seen anything so touching, moving. It made me understand something I didn't. Has changed me. For the better. Thank you for making. Wonder what Robert thinks as he looks down. I hope he knows how truly remarkable of a man he was.
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