The mood — reflective and melancholic — is set with the sparse piano on the soundtrack that introduces shirtless Sam, portrayed by Elliot Page, scanning the world outside his window in a concrete corner of Toronto.
Page bares his own top-surgery scars in the scene, lending a personal, physical dimension to Sam’s story, which Page co-conceived with writer-director Dominic Savage. The filmmaker doesn’t deviate much from the brooding mood, but rather just tightens and loosens the tension that accompanies all the dread.
Sam is stressed in anticipation of returning to his hometown, and family, for the first time in four years. He hasn’t seen anyone from home since he transitioned. Choosing his dad’s big birthday weekend get-together as the venue for his homecoming-out might backfire, warns Sam’s friend and housemate Emily (Sook-Yin Lee).
But, dread be damned, away he goes by train from Toronto to leafy, small-town Culver. His first awkward encounter with someone from home — Katherine (Hillary Baack), a friend from high school, now a married mom whom he spots on the train — doesn’t bode well. Still, the brief reunion does supply enough detail to signal that Kat and Sam were previously closer than just friends, and it leaves both with questions lingering heavily on their minds.
Everyone in Sam’s family has something weighing heavily on their mind, it seems, though not everyone spills, or snaps, at the same time. Savage brightens the mood somewhat for Sam’s surprising welcome home scene, where he gently reconnects with mom Miriam (Wendy Crewson), dad Jim (Peter Outerbridge), and his siblings and their partners.
The scene bears hints of the domestic warmth Sam craves, and that the film could use more of to add dimension to its shades of gray. Outside of stray bits of snark from Sam, the film forgoes humor for angst almost completely.
So, the awkwardness persists, and Page, being the expressively interior actor he is, finds within that many affecting colors to play, as tension escalates with each heart-to-heart between Sam and his respective family members. Each one asks all the same catch-up questions — about his job, his happiness, his love life — posed with varying degrees of concern or pity.
The poignant notes of long-delayed homecomings, and polite welcomes that hide old resentments, ring true. So do the uncomfortable conversations with Dad, who’s eager to talk about Sam’s past depression, older sis Kate (Janet Porter), who harbors all sorts of other doubts, and Mom, who’s supportive with intention, yet still hung up on losing her “little girl.”
The film carefully, and too patly, hits every trending concern family might have about their adult trans loved one living alone in the big city. Some in the family seem to wonder if happiness could even be possible for a person like Sam. And one family member steps far over the line, going from awkward and passive aggressive to openly hostile.
The ensuing climax feels like the movie reaching its inevitable destination, but, despite a sense of contrivance, the acting holds up. Crewson and Outerbridge are particularly good as loving parents processing a host of difficult emotions at once, and Page thoroughly embodies the fulfillment Sam has found in his life, as well as the compassion he’s seeking.
Unfortunately, neither Page nor Baack lend much tension or suspense to the will-they-or-won’t-they between Sam and Katherine. Baack certainly conveys that Katherine sees and appreciates Sam for who he is now and has always been. For someone like Sam, who says he just wants to feel seen, that’s a victory worth the train ride home.
U.S. Sen. Ruben Gallego (D-Ariz.) is the latest high-profile Democrat to come out in opposition to transgender athletes competing on female-designated sports teams.
In an interview with the right-wing news outlet The Dispatch, Gallego echoed President Donald Trump and a host of Republican lawmakers who have been vocal in their opposition to transgender participation in female-designated sports.
"As a parent of a daughter, I think it's legitimate that parents are worried about the safety of their daughters, and I think it's legitimate for us to be worried also about fair competition," he said.
As Julia Izumi jokes early on in Akira Kurosawa Explains His Movies and Yogurt (With Live and Active Cultures), there can be something a little awkward about a playwright appearing in their own autobiographical play. And she's right: the squirm factor threatens to be dangerously high when a writer stands there within spitting distance, baring their talents, story, and soul.
The truth is, it's the theatrical equivalent of a hostage situation, and the play's got to be oh-so-very-good if it's going to set anyone free.
Unfortunately, the hour and 45 minutes (sans intermission) of Akira comes without any such reprieve. In fact, Izumi's entire approach -- from that first joke onward -- is to basically keep reminding us in one way or another that this is her play, her journey, and that our role is to sit back and admire how cute and meaningful it all is. For her. Asking for the occasional show of hands to check if anyone in the audience feels the way she does (an identity-conflicted perfectionist), in no way changes the fact that this is "The Izumi Show."
"Right now, more than ever, we need global solidarity. And WorldPride is probably the closest thing we have to a visible manifestation of the unity we have across borders," says Ymania Brown, one of the co-presidents of InterPride, the international umbrella organization of Pride organizers.
"The goal for us at InterPride and for WorldPride is for our members and everyone who comes to WorldPride in Washington, to walk away knowing that we are not alone," she continues. "That our struggles, while unique in different countries and different regions, are shared. And as a result of that shared struggle, our victories, and the successes we have in changing laws for our people, are collective."
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