It is often difficult for a filmmaker to present their controversial or subversive ideas to the public without causing immediate rejection. Few understand this reality better than Canadian filmmaker, writer, and activist John Greyson. Focusing his work on queer activism and the ongoing conflict between Israel and Palestine, Greyson is entirely aware of the power that he wields behind the camera. In the summer of 2013, he was arrested and detained in Egypt without cause or justification. Now back on Canadian soil, this talented director has a lot to say about the power of politics in film.
On January twelfth, I was fortunate enough to listen in on Greyson’s conversation with Cameron Bailey at the TIFF Bell Lightbox. Greyson and TIFF have a bit of an uneasy history: in 2009, Greyson famously withdrew his short documentary Covered from the Toronto International Film Festival in order to protest the festival’s uncritical spotlight on the city of Tel Aviv. Festival coordinator Bailey responded with criticism of the filmmaker, and I was unsure how their relationship would play out on stage. It was a pleasant surprise to see the two very much at ease with each other at the discussion I attended, and although weighty topics were addressed, they also took the time to chat and mention humourous stories. Indeed, Greyson coyly admitted that one of the most well-known scenes from his film Russia Does Not Believe in Queers, which is meant to depict a homosexual bathhouse, was actually shot secretly in a Hart House locker room with a hidden camera. Such moments of glibness can also be seen in much of Greyson’s work, which uses humour and music to address very serious topics.
Although Greyson has dabbled in traditional filmmaking, enjoying success and critical acclaim with the Genie-award-winning Lilies (1996), he is at heart a postmodern and political filmmaker. Greyson’s political concerns are contemporary, yet he is always gazing backwards. For example, he often uses influential figures from the world of art, such as Oscar Wilde and Gertrude Stein, within his work. Greyson places these historical individuals in anachronistic, modern situations; for example, in his film Fig Trees, he wittily suggests that Stein used Google Translate to create her poetry. Anachronism creates humour, but it is of the unsettling variety that occurs when things are not just as they should be. By putting an audience on edge on this lighter manner, Greyson prepares them for darker suggestions that are to come.
When asked about this technique, Greyson claimed that it was “postmodernism’s fault, opening up the vault of historical reference.” His works certainly use many postmodern tools and avant garde styles, as opposed to any strategies rooted in realism, to address weighty issues. One of the central themes of Greyson’s works is AIDS activism, which comes up time and time again. Greyson claims that he was able to “Trojan Horse AIDS activism into the mainstream by using pop music.” This approach to activism is how Greyson addresses political issues: he buries them within something apparently fun and harmless, often using humour or music as an effective bridge to the public as evidenced in his ingenious pop music videos.
Within these videos, Greyson uses an old trick: he pairs a familiar tune with new lyrics. The act is subversive in and of itself, as are the words that the singers present. When a listener hears a familiar tune, they immediately form expectations as to what words will accompany it. When these expectations are left unmet, and then turned on their head with unanticipated lyrics instead, shock is generated, and the listener is forced to think in a new way. This innovative perception is what postmodernism is all about, and it is what Greyson draws upon in order to create a lasting impact on his viewer.
It was the idea of music as a Trojan Horse that really caught my attention at this discussion. Greyson claims that he was able to sneak his ideas – mainly regarding AIDS activism – into an unwilling mainstream audience by using something with which many could easily identify: the sounds of familiar pop music. The idea is certainly subversive, but as Greyson points out, it is at times entirely necessary. Many would not watch an essay-style film about AIDS, so this director tricked them into watching an apparently familiar music video about it instead. Greyson is also quick to assure his audience that although he deals with topics about which he is extremely passionate, he refuses to create propaganda, and does not tell his audience what to think. Is Greyson’s Trojan Horse strategy unethical? On the contrary, it appears to be an unfortunate necessity. It is when a filmmaker feels as though they must resort to trickery in order to allow their message to be heard that we should be paying the most attention.
