One of the many virtues of Boys Don’t Cry (1999) and Transamerica (2006) is that both films manage to avoid those tired clichés and case-study stereotypes that are often seen in Hollywood queer films. It would have been very easy for a film about trans individual(s) to include exhausting generic material along the lines of a “I felt like a man trapped inside a woman’s body” phrase and therefore be cast off as a clinical Movie of the Week. However, neither picture relies on melodramatic tropes to deliver its message: rather, the emotional heft of each film is delivered through the brutally honest and persuasive performances of Hillary Swank and Felicity Huffman—who approach their roles with a humbling degree of empathy and sincerity. With their masculinized features that only serve to enhance the physical believability of their characters, Swank and Huffman are perfectly cast as pre-op transsexuals: so much so that I cannot think of any other actress that would be better suited for either role.
To label Kimberly Peirce’s Boys and Duncan Tucker’s Transamerica as sociological profiles would be a grave injustice to the vision of either director. Instead, these films use the experiences and woes of Swank’s Brandon Teena and Huffman’s Bree as a lens for peering into the various aspects of human nature. There is an added thread that links both movies, and that is the setting in which the characters must navigate: Boys take place in a Nebraska trailer park, and Transamerica (as one may guess by the title) spans the vast expanse of American terrain during a road trip. Okay, so perhaps it is a bit predictable for the films to derive their conflict through the prejudices of middle America, where most everybody behaves exactly according to their natures. Predictable, yet not cliché: for Pierce and Tucker do not underline the stupidity of others’ cruel reactions. Instead, Boys and Trans find the right note by presenting these characters as psychological instruments of deep ignorance: which is precisely why these films work so well on a cinematic level.
Based on a harrowing true story, Boys Don’t Cry is a romantic tragedy whose protagonist—Teena Brandon—is simply a lonely girl who would rather be a boy, and one day she gets a short haircut, sticks a sock down the front of her jeans and goes into a bar to try her luck: and it is this very transformation that is seen in the opening sequence of Peirce’s film. By now, she has become Brandon Teena, and we must use the male pronoun in describing him. Similarly, Transamerica opens with an instructional video of a post-op male to female individual demonstrating the technique of vocal chord manipulation. Huffman’s character Sabrina (Bree for short) stands in front of the television screen, painstakingly mimicking these vocal ranges in a manner that suggests Huffman’s uncanny knack for gender parody. Formerly known as Stanley, Bree is one week away from her sex reassignment surgery when she discovers that she has a 17-year old son, the product of a one-time college experience that she refers to as “so tragically lesbian I didn’t think it counted.” Like Boys, the beginning sequence of Transamerica voyeuristically peers into the routine of Bree’s daily self-presentation. Painting her long tipped nails in a creamy pink polish, stuffing her bra, and applying lip liner that uncomfortably just falls outside the zone of her lips, there is earnestness in her elaborate and rather theatrical displays of femininity. With an air of self-conscious daintiness, Bree’s meticulous attention to the details of her physical appearance seems authentically contrived; as though “…she were perpetually balancing a full teacup of manliness that she knows could spill at any moment (Stephanie Zacharek).” And in fact, the audience does get a glimpse of that ‘manliness’ in a wonderfully candid scene that uses a penile prosthetic. I found this scene quite refreshing, because it showcases Tucker’s commitment to exploring every crevice of trans sexuality in a way that is curious, honest, and tasteful.
There is something to be said for the fact that these films open with snippets of physical metamorphosis, for these characters have already passed the tumultuous checkpoint of self-discovery. They are neither ashamed nor uncomfortable in embracing their gender identities, and for the most part remain “stealth” to society. There is even a suggestion that Brandon Teena is somewhat of a ‘ladies’ man’, and soon he falls in love with Lana (played by Chloe Sevigny)—who gives the impression that Brandon is the sweetest and most romantic guy she’s ever met. Sevigny’s character is crucial to the movie, for it is through Lana that we are first introduced to Brandon’s story. As I rewatched both films, I began to notice certain details that never struck me before: namely the fact that the physical aesthetics of each character seems to resemble the cinematographic style of their respective films. For example, as kind and gentle as Brandon is, there is something coarse and unrefined in his appearance—one truly gets the sense that Brandon has never ventured outside the bubble of roughneck America. In a sense, Brandon’s appearance seems to resemble the raw grit of Peirce’s technique; for there is such a convincing intensity in the way she films the idle existence of hanging out in gas stations and roller rinks, the couch surfing, six packs, and Marlboros. By contrast, Bree’s overly proper demeanor is complemented by the floral pastels of her home décor, the witty indie flair of the film, and the bleached lighting of the landscape sequences interspersed with establishing shots of sunsets filmed in such warm hues.
When watching these films side by side, I began to appreciate the dichotomy between Swank’s FTM transformation and Huffman’s MTF metamorphosis. While Swank’s appearance and demeanor as Brandon were so convincingly determined, I cannot help but focus my admiration for the challenge that Huffman was faced with: she is a woman who had to play a man becoming a woman. In fact, Huffman’s features, movements and speech patterns were so controlled and fitting, she truly undermined any skepticism and surpassed all expectations. Sure, Bree has to overcome the sin of bad makeup, but the artifice in her appearance is just right: the fact that she is liberated from any camp or gaudy freakiness only adds to the emotional investment in her story. “You look very authentic,” exclaims her plastic surgeon. In talking about the authenticity of gender reassignment, one cannot avoid the topic of fabrication as well. There is one interesting moment in Transamerica when, at a sex reassignment support group, Bree seems to gossip about and judge the appearance of other MTF individuals—what she calls “ersatz” women. The fact that she judges the “inferior imitation” of the others’ aesthetics showcases how Bree removes herself from that category: she does not consider herself an MTF, but simply a female. And in Boys, does Lana know Brandon was born a female? At some point, certainly. Yet the moment of that point is made unclear because while she does know, at the same time it’s as if she doesn’t know: like all romances, her love for Brandon is built on illusion; and when you love someone, that illusion becomes intoxicating.
In his praise for Transamerica, Roger Ebert shed some insights and observations that I myself hadn’t appreciated before. Yet there was one comment that struck me as both thought-provoking yet a bit uninformed: “My own impression is that most transgender people have little interest in homosexuality; if they did, they’d be pre-op forever.” I understand where Ebert is coming from since—as a self-proclaimed “transsexual, not transvestite”—Bree is attracted to men, and Brandon falls for Lana. Yet there is a scene in Transamerica where, at the same gender reassignment support group, two MTF post-ops share their story of falling in love. Dare I consider this a lesbian romance of sorts? While both films confront issues of trans phobia, Transamerica seems to take a more direct and slightly jocular approach in addressing them. When told by her plastic surgeon that, according to the DSMIV, gender dysphoria is characterized as a psychological pathology, Bree beautifully responds with “Don’t you find it odd that plastic surgery can cure a mental disorder?” However, the real heart of Boys Don’t Cry and Transamerica is that they are both ultimately tales of love. Whether it is shown through Boys’ Romeo and Juliet-esque romantic story, or Transamerica’s commentary on family values, Hillary Swank and Felicity Huffman expose the humanness of their characters beyond the surface level of their gender identities. And in the end, you cannot help but fall in love with them as well.
