This is a beautifully shot documentary on the lives of three 'hijras', biological men who dress as women though class themselves as neither gender. They are India's self-identified third gender.
After watching the film, it's hard to argue against their notion of being 'between the lines' of gender when viewing their complex, often saddening, though deeply embedded place in the bustling city of Bombay. And it is the sense of belonging of the characters in a juxtaposed Bombay that Director Thomas Wartmann so skilfully evokes.
The film follows photographer Anita Khemka as she observes, and at times becomes a part of, the worlds of Laxmi, Rambha and Asha trying to flourish through begging, prostitution and teaching children dance. And flourishing, ironically, is what they seem to do.
A simple biographical portrayal, however, this film is not.
Khemka, who is certainly not impartial, manages to open up their individual stories through relaxed interview. Through their own words you are forced to look beyond the apparent superficiality of their makeup and clothes and you start to feel like you could know these people. But you're still left wondering at what they don't mention.
Laxmi hasn't been able to go through with castration yet being concerned about discrimination, whilst Rambha talks fondly of being reborn as a hijra despite the shocking experiences she has had. Asha is intriguing in both her beauty and drunkenness and almost rallies against the very mysticism off which she attempts to live. She is even an outcast from hijra community due to her vagrant alcoholism.
Rather than drawing cross-cultural parallels between hijras and Western trans communities, this film manages to purvey the strong historical significance of hijra subculture in distinctly Indian society. Though gritty and painfully real, Wartmann's true achievement is imbuing the mysticism of hijra culture throughout this docu-film so effortlessly.
Compelling and worth watching with an open mind.
After watching the film, it's hard to argue against their notion of being 'between the lines' of gender when viewing their complex, often saddening, though deeply embedded place in the bustling city of Bombay. And it is the sense of belonging of the characters in a juxtaposed Bombay that Director Thomas Wartmann so skilfully evokes.
The film follows photographer Anita Khemka as she observes, and at times becomes a part of, the worlds of Laxmi, Rambha and Asha trying to flourish through begging, prostitution and teaching children dance. And flourishing, ironically, is what they seem to do.
A simple biographical portrayal, however, this film is not.
Khemka, who is certainly not impartial, manages to open up their individual stories through relaxed interview. Through their own words you are forced to look beyond the apparent superficiality of their makeup and clothes and you start to feel like you could know these people. But you're still left wondering at what they don't mention.
Laxmi hasn't been able to go through with castration yet being concerned about discrimination, whilst Rambha talks fondly of being reborn as a hijra despite the shocking experiences she has had. Asha is intriguing in both her beauty and drunkenness and almost rallies against the very mysticism off which she attempts to live. She is even an outcast from hijra community due to her vagrant alcoholism.
Rather than drawing cross-cultural parallels between hijras and Western trans communities, this film manages to purvey the strong historical significance of hijra subculture in distinctly Indian society. Though gritty and painfully real, Wartmann's true achievement is imbuing the mysticism of hijra culture throughout this docu-film so effortlessly.
Compelling and worth watching with an open mind.