What People Get Wrong About Tangerine
Those who have read the introduction to the Queens of the B’s publication know that I run a queer book/film club every month. Though it was originally designed for queer people who didn’t know much about queer content, many of our initial members were queer engineers, lawyers, architects, I am happy to say that it is evolving into a queer community all its own — run by the members themselves. As part of this book club I hope to bring some of these conversations to readers of the publication and listeners of the pod; those itching for more queer content. Last month we watched Tangerine an Oscar-buzz film that, I think, didn’t exactly get the queer-specific credit it was due.
What people get wrong about Tangerine (2015) is that its critical value comes from being “shot on an iPhone 5”. This technical limitation certainly deserves praise, but it is, ultimately, a marketing gimmick. I say this because marketing a film by its technical prowess limits its potential reach. It certainly caught the eye of the film industry, but it came at the cost of its true praise. Specifically, how it should be known as an earnest, hilarious, and essential film for queer audiences.
A wild ride from the start, Tangerine takes us on a Tinsletown Odyssey on Christmas Eve, following Sin-Dee (Kitana Kiki Rodriguez) on her vendetta to find her boyfriend/pimp Chester (James Ransone). Sin-Dee has just gotten out of jail on prostitution charges when she finds out Chester has been cheating on her with a cis-girl named Dinah (Mickey O’Hagan). While sharing a donut, she promises her friend and foil, Alexandra (Mya Taylor), that there will be no drama when it comes to Chester. But the music betrays Sin-Dee’s charming assurance, the disjointed, coked-up, in-your-face, beat from “Taliban,” by Haterade and Skellism bolsters Sin-Dee’s seething jealousy, and the odyssey begins.
Where the camera work does shine, as opposed to the iPhone gimmick, is in particularly beautiful, contradictory moments that are simultaneously surreal and documentarian. One of these moments is when Razmik (Karren Karagulian), the spotlighted Jon who travels the city by cab, gives Alexandra a blow job. I was shocked by how gorgeous the interior of a carwash could be. Along similar lines, the club bathroom where Sin-Dee helps Alexandra prepare for her performance of “Toyland” turns a divey, claustrophobic handicap toilet into an art-house set. While high, Sin-Dee suddenly takes a sympathetic turn towards Dinah. She slowly approaches her and starts to care for the wounds on her cheek (previously inflicted by Sin-Dee). The bathroom is enveloped in a soft blue, broken by a disco ball reflecting white circles across the walls. I’m in a seedy club bathroom, but I’m also nervous and excited at an eighth-grade dance — I can’t explain it better than that.
The score is another feature that far outshines the iPhone gimmick. Music gives the film its movement. Though a lot of it takes place in transit, between Sin-Dee traversing Sunset Boulevard, or Razmik in his cab, it is the music that gives these multitudes of shots their mood and flavor. Without the club beats complementing Sin-Dee’s footsteps, we would spend most of the movie watching people walk around.
Like I said earlier, the film is a wild ride. If you’ve seen it before, you know what I mean: 1.5 hours of pure adrenaline. But when a film’s foundation is at 100, it’s when it slows down that we need to pay attention. Two scenes, in particular, slow the pace so much, we can feel our hearts beating in the aftermath. One is Alexandra’s performance of “Toyland” at the gay bar. We are stalled in her spotlight, a beautiful red dress shimmers on the stage as she performs. And because it is so off-pace from the film, it has so much significance. We wonder about her. Is this Alexandra, for three minutes, simply performing realness? Is it an escape from her life as a prostitute (very Moulin Rouge vibes)? Or is it simply something she likes to do? It’s unclear, but the moment gives her character new depth, a deep emotional core we aren’t given permission to know but are invited to explore.
The other moment is the ending, where Alexandra takes Sin-Dee to the laundromat after a potential John throws a super-sized cup of urine at her. Stripped and bare in the public laundromat, the two reconcile from the dramatic — and yes — fast-paced climax where it is revealed that Alexandra has also slept with Chester. In their last shot, Alexandra gives Sin-Dee her wig, offering not just her hair, but a bit of dignity. The message is clear: in the end, despite boys, money, sex, and love they always have each other.
