In 2000, Bloomsbury Publishing released Sarah. The author of the novel was JT LeRoy, a teenager from West Virginia who had prostituted himself at truckstops, lived on the streets while addicted to drugs, and eventually became HIV positive. LeRoy credits his therapist, who urged him to write about his experiences, for the novel’s genesis. Two more books followed (Harold’s End, a novel, and The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things, a short story collection), as did a slew of A-list celebrity encounters, photo shoots, magazine articles, and two feature film adaptations. The author himself cut an enigmatic figure; too shy to read his work at public appearances, his famous friends were obliged to read on his behalf. When LeRoy was seen, he was typically wearing a blonde wig and sunglasses, and rarely appeared without an entourage comprised of former outreach worker Emily (AKA “Speedie”) and her partner Astor. Eventually, LeRoy began identifying as transgender. In 2006, Stephen Beachy wrote an article in New York Magazine questioning LeRoy’s identity, and shortly after, a woman named Laura Albert revealed that she was the true author of LeRoy’s fiction. She gave phone interviews as “LeRoy” and orchestrated his public appearances. Too old to pass for a teenager herself, Albert had a younger woman named Savannah Knoop appear as LeRoy in public. Albert took on the persona of Speedie in order to accompany Knoop.

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Filmmaker Marjorie Sturm documents LeRoy’s bizarre story from emergence to death in her new film The Cult of JT LeRoy. After watching it at this year’s Queer Film Festival in Vancouver, SAD Mag had a host of burning questions Sturm.

SAD Mag: Can you describe the process you went through to make The Cult of JT LeRoy? I’ve read that it was a long journey from initial concept to finished piece.

Marjorie Sturm: Yes, indeed, it has been a long (and strange) journey. I worked on the film for five years over a twelve year span. I began in 2002 with the understanding that “JT LeRoy” was a real person when in fact I was filming Savannah Knoop pretending to be a fictional character. At that time, I worked on the film for close to a year. I re-opened the film in 2006 when it became the clear that “JT LeRoy” was a massive, global, literary/entertainment deception. I gathered up the majority of the interviews that appear in the film at that time. Post-production is where the film took a nose dive; I waited many years to find funding that would allow me to control the direction of the film.

If I had been willing to allow others (men) to ‘co-direct’ my film or ‘merge’ it, I would have been able to get my film done faster. Apparently, this is not a unique situation in the documentary industry. Filmmakers who aren’t established ‘brands’ and have limited access to resources, who have stumbled on to some form of “documentary gold,” (as my early JT footage could be construed) are pushed and cajoled with the sword of Damocles. I can see why people would surrender as it is a terribly frustrating situation to find oneself. However, I thought it would be short-sighted to go forward making a film that didn’t represent the topic in a way that I would have control over. Eventually, I got extremely lucky and found funding and a team of supportive people that helped me create the film.

I imagine that there are many great films sitting on hard drives waiting for a break.

SM: I also understand that you have a background in mental health. Did you recognize Laura Albert as someone suffering from mental illness?  Does that in any way mitigate her responsibility for her actions?

MS: Mitigating responsibility because of mental illness is an extremely tricky situation. First off, there are all types of mental illness, and like many things, there is a continuum. One could argue every pedophile, rapist, con-artist, murderer on some level has mental illness.

JT LeRoy’s therapist, who appears in the film via a trial deposition, agrees that JT/Laura Albert is not psychotic and out of touch with reality. If someone is psychotic (schizophrenic, severely bi-polar), it would be easy to understand why that could mitigate their responsibility. Laura did her damndest to present a case for her mental illness during the trial over a period of eight days, and the jury quickly concluded that they weren’t buying it. However, no one is arguing that Laura is not a disturbed individual. And if people choose to have compassion for her, that is their choice, but it doesn’t mitigate responsibility for her actions. I don’t believe our compassion for a victimizer should ever outweigh the compassion we have for those they victimized, as it fuels them and allows them to abuse again.

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SM: As a filmmaker, you don’t insert your thoughts and opinions into the film much. Can you talk about that decision? Were you surprised when JT’s true identity was finally revealed or did you have suspicions earlier?

MS: How much to insert myself into the film was a question that I contemplated quite a bit from the beginning. I knew I needed to be a voice in the film in order to give my early footage some context. As well, there were gaps to fill in the narrative. At first, I used all text but it was just too much reading and was seriously nixed by almost everyone who saw the earlier cuts. With a lot of discussion and help from the editor Josh Melrod, I feel like I struck a balance that I am pleased with. I really didn’t want this documentary to be an overly personal one. I think there is  a time and place for personal documentaries and I love many of them, but this particular topic was much larger than myself. I really wanted to create an active viewing experience that left the viewer thinking and analyzing. Even reading the views that I am expressing here in this interview could potentially distract from the experience of the film.

There was always something weird and cagey about the JT gang, but I absolutely believed that JT was a real person. Even after I read Stephen Beachy’s article in New York Magazine, I thought JT existed and Laura just ghost wrote the books for him because he was uneducated. It wasn’t until I had some back and forth discussion with Beachy, where he made so many lucid points, that I really came around to understanding that the whole thing was an utter fabrication.

SM: In an interview for The Paris Review in 2006, Laura Albert tells a story from when she was 16 and called a child therapist from a Village Voice ad. She recounts pretending to be a 14-year-old boy. When she later revealed the truth, the therapist told her never to call him again. Albert observes: “He responded angrily instead of asking himself, ‘Why did this kid invent this story? What would make a child do such a thing?'” Do you view this as deflection on Albert’s part or is it a valid question that you see your film responding to?

MS: I guess I view it as a bit of both. It is indeed a deflection on Albert’s part, a way of not taking responsibility for her actions and blaming others. The glaring problem with the deflection is that Laura Albert is a full grown woman and not a child. We judge a child’s behavior at a different standard than an adult’s, or at least we should. Laura Albert pretends to, or doesn’t seem to, grasp that.

And yes, in a sense, my film is responding to the question, “What would make a child (a person) do such a thing?”

SM: Posing as male in order to feel safe and be heard emerges as a strong theme throughout the version of Albert’s life presented in that interview. To what extent do you think a sexist society contributed to Albert’s decision to create a male persona?

MS: On one hand, I don’t think there is a woman alive who doesn’t feel, consciously or unconsciously, the implications of living in a highly sexist society.

When I was six and seven years old, I had a repetitive dreams that I was a boy in a wheelchair. Night after night after night. I have a brother who is two years older, and I saw the permission that his gender gave him. I resented it, and felt handicapped. Or at least that’s my armchair dream analysis.

My point is, using sexism and the need for a male persona is a compelling tale, one that is hard to refute, and many women can relate to.

But, JT wasn’t just a male. He was transgender, before people even knew what that term meant. Does a heterosexual woman really need to pose as someone transgender in order to feel “safe and heard in this world”?

What she did, and in a sense it was quite savvy, was a create a much more sensational persona than her own identity provided. Hustler on the run, being pimped out by his mother, strung out on heroin, yadda yadda. Or middle-aged woman from middle-class background with an eating disorder.

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SM: One issue the film explores is that of who has the right to represent pain. In some ways the recent Rachel Dolezal story touches on this. In both instances the cultural outrage seems to stem from individuals laying claim to pain that doesn’t belong to them. I felt your film made clear that Albert crossed a line with the fabrication of JT, but how clear is that line? How mindful of this sort of appropriation do writers need to be when writing fiction?

MS: My personal opinion is that writers don’t need to be mindful of this sort of appropriation when writing fiction at all. Not one iota. Fiction is a work of the imagination. I think we can write from the point of view of anything–a duck, a chair, the sky, other races, genders, classes, and so on.

The line is crossed and problems begin when we market our fiction as non-fiction in order to manipulate and gain sympathy. When we start picking up the phone and pretending to be that fictional character in real time. When our marginalized ‘fictional’ character asks for resources of time, money, and gifts.

Laura Albert did countless interviews in the voice of a little boy and the work was marketed as “autobiographical fiction” with a bio to match. She had the cover-my-ass forethought to put only the word ‘fiction’ on the back cover, but everyone thought Savannah Knoop was indeed JT LeRoy, who grew up at trucks stops in West Virginia and was pimped out by his mother. Really, the level of disingenuousness, gall, and relentless spinning is appalling when not laughable.

As far as Dolezal, I was really struck by the fact that not only did she pretend to be black when she was in fact white, but she actively prevented other white academics from speaking about race on the campus where she taught. Um . . . no.

SM: I thought your film did a great job of showing the emotional impact the deception had on those in contact with LeRoy, while also examining to to what degree those individuals might have been complicit. Do you have any sense of Laura Albert or Savannah having any empathy for those they deceived?  

MS: As far as Laura is concerned, I have seen absolutely no empathy towards those she has deceived. In fact, the subtext is more, “How could they all be so stupid and fall for it? Savannah looks like a girl.

Till now, she seems committed to “not apologizing” as if that would be somehow backing down. It’s actually kind of fascinating in a sense, and on a meta-level might lead one to having compassion for her because what a fractured and sad way to live.

Of course, at any given moment, she may change course and decide to mimic empathy/compassion for others, but to the best of my knowledge, I have only seen those emotions reserved for herself.

As for Savannah, my sense is that she is conflicted emotionally about the whole thing. When the deception was first revealed, she gleefully traipsed around with Laura to parties and receptions. The news picked up on “The Hoaxers are Out on the Town” and it seemed like public opinion was working in their favor. People enjoy[ed] seeing mud thrown in the faces of The Establishment. Celebrities. The New York Times, HBO, Cannes, Hollywood. Without the personal, it is kind of a hoot.

Laura and Savannah fell out when Savannah wrote her book about her experience around “being JT.” I think she got a good taste of Laura’s wrath at that point, and perhaps that increased Savannah’s empathy for those they deceived? But I have read her book, and it really was about her experience and I don’t recall empathy for others or much [of a] sense of shame or guilt. It was about “her growth” as JT. Laura uses that one, too. We’re supposed to be elated about their psychological, individualistic “growth.” This type of consciousness is extremely, profoundly American.

 

Found out more about The Cult of JT Leroy at the film’s official website. Stay tuned for next year’s Vancouver Queer Film Festival

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An Argentinian/Chilean production by director Mauricio López Fernández, La Visita centres around a young trans woman, Elena, who returns home to attend her father’s wake. The entire film takes place on the property of a doctor, home to his wife, their kids, an eccentric mother-in-law condemned to the upstairs, and a full staff, one of whom is Elena’s mother Coya.

Elena, played by incredible trans actress Daniela Vega, understands that talking matter-of-factly with the rest of the household will not be enough to resolve the ‘uncomfortable situation’ caused by her reappearance as a woman. Interestingly, while Elena’s struggle to find acceptance as a trans woman is the centre of the action, each character appeals the audience with their own ordeal.

Coya, for instance, is a deliciously blended character; it’s near impossible to shun her for shunning her trans daughter. As a servant to the doctor and his family, Coya struggles with class throughout the film while also coping with the loss of Elena’s father. More than missing her late husband, though, she is stricken by the loss of a strong male presence in her life. It’s endlessly entertaining to watch her as she attempts to satisfy her lust for young meat–a feat that, at her age, requires a lot of creativity.

Teresa, the doctor’s wife, is also struggling. She is left emotionally vulnerable by a husband who doesn’t come home nights. Though she is on the verge of erupting, Teresa continues to pretend that she is running the show. No one in La Visita is able to talk about what is going on with them, personally. Instead, Fernández uses facial tics to powerfully communicate characters’ true feelings.

The film wraps up with a sensuality expressed by Vega’s character in a few isolated moments, at night, or alone in front of her bedroom mirror. Viewers will fall for her almost immediately and stay on her side throughout, even while sympathizing with almost every character in the film. Because there is little dialogue and the action is confined to the house and surroundings, La Visita has a slow, dreamlike quality. Viewers will find themselves wondering about each character as the story unfolds, in this intense and intimite venture.

La Visita played at this year’s Vancouver Queer Film Festival, which runs until Aug 23. For festival showtimes and information, visit the VQFF website.

Kiss & Tell with titleThe idea for Kiss & Tell (2015) hit filmmaker Jackie Hoffart like a whack over the head–an emotional, repeated, and unavoidable whack.

Hoffart had been going through a tough breakup at the time of the film’s inception. “There was a place where me and that person had a beautiful moment, directly at the exit of my garage,” she told SAD Mag over coffee last week.“Every time I left my house I would be whacked over the head with this memory. The memory was actually beautiful, but was in such contrast to how I was feeling–I’d have to close my eyes sometimes when I was pulling into my alley.”

What might have led to a dented bumper instead inspired Hoffart to create what she calls her first “somewhat professional” film, landing her a slot in the Vancouver Queer Film Festival’s short film showcase The Coast is Queer. Though VQFF is Hoffart’s official premiere as a filmmaker, she is a practiced storyteller. In the past, she worked as SAD Mag’s editor-in-chief and now produces, edits and co-hosts its official podcast, SADCAST. “Storytelling,” she explains, “is a kind of impulse–one that can be manifested in several modes.”

At just five minutes in length, Kiss & Tell is a compact but powerful expression of that impulse. Pairing striking shots of Vancouver street corners with poetic voice over, Hoffart crafts her own ode to the feeling she discovered in her parking garage, that feeling of “walk[ing] past a memory”. She revisits the locations of eight intimate moments, each of which she shared with a different someone. The result is a kind of cinematographic map of the city that feels both highly personal and surprisingly universal; it places viewers as witnesses–and by definition, outsiders–to Hoffart’s memories, but simultaneously invites them to revisit their own.

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Jackie Hoffart

“What I tried to do was really whittle down what was important for me about memories that I’d had in certain, specific spaces and accept them as they were,” she says. But rather than reenacting the eight moments exactly as they occurred, Hoffart wanted to capture each intersection as it was at the time of the filming. “Those places aren’t anything like they were at the time, but those memories remain intact. You encounter them whether it’s sunny or rainy or the middle of the night–you just hit them.”

To capture the timeless nature of those places, Hoffart filmed most locations on at least two different occasions, in two different lights. Through the collaboration of her director of photography, Jon Thomas, she incorporated different frame rates at different times. “[We wanted to create] an effect of things slowing down and speeding up,” she explains. Like memories themsel, each scene is “out of place and out of time, but then also anchored to that specific place and that specific time.” Kiss & Tell stays as true to those locations as possible.

The true power of Kiss & Tell lies not in what Hoffart captures on screen, but in what it evokes off screen. Each moment she shares suggests a backstory that the audience will never hear; each memory hints at future ones that the viewer will never see. Like a first kiss, Kiss & Tell leaves you moved, curious, and hungry for more.

 

Kiss & Tell is not yet available for public viewing, but you can follow Jackie Hoffart on Twitter or tune in to SADCAST, now (at least) monthly at sadcast.ca, for updates on when and where it’s playing next.

The Vancouver Queer Film Fest runs until August 23. Visit the festival website for tickets and showtimes.