Queer as Punk
(Malaysia, 88 min.)
Dir. Yihwen Chen
Programme: Artscapes (North American premiere)
Embodying the rebellious spirit of their music, Malaysian LGBTQ punk band “Shh…Diam!” remains defiant in a country where their very identities are criminalized. Their name is laced with irony. It translates as “shut up!” — an overt, and hilarious, parody of their critics’ dismissals. It’s evident through their energetic songs that they do anything but. In a country where homosexuality and gender expression of transgender people are illegal, their existence is downright heroic.
Shot over six years, director Yihwen Chen crafts an observational music documentary that pushes past the genre’s boundaries. It is more than a portrait of a band: this is both personal and political. In addition to chronicling the band’s performances and tours, she provides the viewer with an in-depth look at the dynamics of the group which she interlaces with profiles of the individuals. But the film engages in a constant back and forth between these scenes and information about various ruling party’s religious conservatism and their anti-LGBTQ policies.
It’s a simple strategy but it affords her the greater opportunity to offer insight into life under such a restrictive regime. In this way, she builds a deep sense of a chosen family. Queer as Punk also blends in lead singer Faris Saad’s journey to fully realize his identity as a trans man in a country that does not recognize him.
Using a handheld camera approach, Yihwen captures the disaffected essence embedded in the music that drives the determination of the band. Images are gritty and dark. Punk is founded in rebellion and these individuals are not afraid of a battle. Not only do they perform in underground venues, but they participate in protests. Anyone who works so closely together to fight the good fight tends to build deep relationships and, when lives are endangered, their bond operates on another level entirely.
The verité style here creates a level of intimacy and the candour of the subjects cultivates a greater connection with the audience. This is essential to a deeper understanding of the impact of the political repression in Malaysia. The dominance of the conservative religious majority makes it dangerous for everyone in the film. The viewer is privy to an insider’s view of how serious the situation is for the country’s LGBTQ community.
Candid discussions of the political situation permeate the more personal interactions between band mates. Still, they continue touring and writing songs and they retain their optimistic attitude. They thrive on the support they receive from each other and from the fans. The film pauses during these times to showcase their performances. We see the club goers’ delighted reactions to songs like the tongue-in-cheek ballad “Lonely Lesbian.”
The infectious spirit of their music reflects the band members’ unique personalities. While Faris is clearly the charismatic leader here, each member of the band is compelling in their own ways. There’s a hilarious scene in which Yon tries to explain her dilemma when trying to write a romantic love poem for her husband. The problem is that it comes out X-rated every time.
Faris remains the focal point of the film, not simply because he’s the leader of the band. Sure, he is charming, which makes him an instant magnet for attention. But he’s also blunt and direct, and he has a piercing wit that gives profound insight as he shares observations about LGBTQ life in Malaysia. It is through Faris’ story that the director can illuminate the specific complications for someone who has transitioned.
He’s also got the most to lose. It’s one thing to laugh at his stories when he’s relating how his mother refuses to accept his identity, insisting that he wear dresses, but it’s another when he describes the problems he encounters when he tries to vote. His identity does not match his ID and that is a government issued document he needs to exercise that right. (He describes basically voting as proxy ballot for someone who wasn’t able to vote in-person.) As we get to know Faris better, it’s absolutely frightening when he describes a raid where the police divided partygoers into male and female. What do you do when you don’t look like your assigned gender?
Queer as Punk is not your average music documentary. It’s witty and fun and full of fascinating characters but there’s a dangerous undertone. We are reminded throughout that homosexuality is illegal, punishable by caning or imprisonment and yet protests continue in the streets. “Shh…Diam!” thrives as a band and the members enjoy their lives – fully and completely – despite the risks.
In Queer as Punk, director Yihwen Chen shapes an inspiring vision of renegade spirits in dangerous times. This is a portrait of queer joy and rebellion. As a band and as individuals, these subjects are expressing their essential selves. Their very existence is a very punk act of resistance.
