Apolo
(Brazil, 77 min.)
Dir. Isis Broken, Tainá Müller
Prod. Bianca Villar, Eduardo Capuri, Karen Castanho, Tainá Müller, Henrique Sauer, Fernando Fraiha, Thiago Mascarenhas
Programme: Made in Brazil (Canadian premiere)
Sometimes the biggest impact comes from the smallest of stories. Apolo intimately observes a pivotal moment between partners as they expect their first child. Isis and Lourenzo have a happy and healthy relationship that provides stability and comfort. The pregnancy, however, pushes them into new terrain. Both partners are transgender, and Brazilian society seems wholly unequipped to deal with this very contemporary pregnancy, even if it’s a normal one by medical standards.
The doctors don’t know what to do when a man and woman approach them and explain that dad is pregnant. Isis and Lourenzo encounter fierce transphobia in spaces designed to provide care. They boldly let the camera follow them throughout this emotional time in their relationship. In doing so, their vulnerability opens up an important and forward-looking story about trans rights and reproductive rights at a moment when the world keeps sliding backwards on both fronts.
Isis and Lourenzo focus on the future by eagerly awaiting the birth of Apolo, their son-to-be. The pregnancy forces them to explain the how, as the partners share that Isis doesn’t take hormones and, while Lourenzo takes testosterone, they conceived the old-fashioned way. (Ish.) It’s a happy accident.
The pregnancy also requires both parents to change gears regarding biological aspects of their transition. Lourenzo goes off hormones to facilitate gestation, while Isis goes on them so that she can breastfeed Apolo when he’s born. Cue some mood swings for extra drama in a story in which emotions run high.
The observational footage of the couple’s day to day enjoys intermittent artistic punctuation marks as Isis and Lourenzo deliver poetic confessionals for their son. These interludes underscore the risks of being openly and visibly trans, especially as an expecting family, in a country that remains relatively transphobic. Their story resonates with this urgency, particularly when some close calls leave Isis and the very pregnant Lourenzo running for their lives.
Apolo works wonders as a step forward for trans representation, too, as Isis pulls double duty as subject and co-director. Her collaboration with director Tainá Müller gets the story right while upholding the integrity of the tale.
The filmmakers situate the impending birth of Apolo within the very different family dynamics in which Isis and Lourenzo came of age. Isis recalls a supportive household. Her mom admits that she knew since Isis was young that she had a daughter. Mother and daughter talk openly about Isis’s childhood, using her past name and not treating her early years as a kind of death. The couple harnesses this love and support as inspiration for Apolo’s childhood. They’ll love him however he grows up.
Lourenzo’s upbringing terms a different story. There’s distance, rather than love. He recalls coming out as queer with his dad’s reaction being indifference, so long as his kid wasn’t trans. (And that’s expressed in much crasser terms.)
The film features a return to Lourenzo’s home where his mom and her new partner welcome him and Isis with open arms. It’s a bit of a put-upon reunion–one can only imagine the role that the camera plays–but nevertheless welcome. His mom wants a fresh start, and he and Isis refreshingly invite the opportunity to repair family ties.
As Apolo looks at these three families, it shares how no family is the same. All that really matters, and eventually connects them, is that thread of love that Apolo is lucky to have. It’s a story made in Brazil, but applicable to families everywhere.
