LARRY (they/them) is a documentary about art, life and gender identity in Montreal

In LARRY (they/them), documentarian Catherine Legault brings us into the daily life of non-binary photographer Laurence Philomène. Shot mostly in Montreal, the documentary takes inspiration from Laurence’s photography; it’s sun-kissed, joyful and colourful. Equal parts examination of trans identities and a portrait of an artist, Legault’s filmmaking creates an intimate extension of Laurence Philomène’s world.

Central to Laurence’s practice is an examination of their non-binary experience — in their words, “a transition without a fixed goal.” Through the documentary, we watch as they assemble a book called Puberty, built around a daily photo series depicting their experience of going on testosterone. Antithetical to most media depictions of transness, Laurence emphasizes beauty and joy, rather than suffering and despair. Drawing inspiration not just from life but art history, Laurence’s work challenges gender norms as it confronts the status quo with a playful and celebratory perspective.

The underlying themes of personal freedom are abundant. Laurence Philomène’s transformative journey is a means of navigating identity on their own terms. The challenges they face are often dull and mundane — ticking stuff off a to-do list like doing laundry. Life is in many ways boring and repetitive, filled with non-events. Yet, for many trans people, their existence and freedom present an existential crisis to those in power, particularly among conservatives who have a vested interest in gender essentialism. In the film, we see how mutual aid takes form in intimate gestures within the community, such as helping a friend find a doctor who will prescribe hormones, but also grand political moves in the form of political organization and protest. The fight facing the trans community is life or death — it’s the freedom to be yourself.

As much of Laurence’s work is autobiographical, the movie delves into the questions and gestures of their work as an artist who draws on life. What does it look like as an artist who uses themselves as their subject? What does it mean for those around them? In a broad sense, the documentary is a fascinating examination of the cost of laying yourself bare. Laurence, just existing, threatens a segment of the population that is unusually aggressive. They discuss choosing for a long time to stop posting their face out of fear of retribution; we hear Laurence’s life partner, who is far more private, struggle with being interwoven into art work. Laurence’s work is about what it means to be seen and the struggle to frame difference within the scope of convention.

The movie has a breezy atmosphere that seems to drift rather than power through different actions and reactions. Rather than a call to arms, it’s often more of a giggle and a glance. While delving into “important questions,” much of the documentary fixates on the everyday. Observational and even silly, it’s a film about daily life — its highs and lows, and mostly the in-betweens. It’s very much a film about living, a slice-of-life look at Laurence’s habits and routines. There’s a radicalism in its gentleness, as it focuses on the ordinary rather than the exceptional, finding the specific rhythms of Laurence’s life without framing it as otherness.

In that sense, it’s also a movie that captures the ebbs and flows of Montreal summer: the park hangs, the wind in the trees. It’s a movie about hanging out in beautifully lit apartments and in parks. Over and over again, we return to themes of community, as people come together even amidst hardship (much of the film was shot during the pandemic) to support each other. The documentary balances playfulness with seriousness with appropriate aplomb, understanding very well that the pleasures in being aloof are tied deeply to the freedom to express yourself. Montreal serves as a backdrop where people can still explore personal identity and artistic practice within a breezy atmosphere of chilling and vibing, rather than the more intense gestures of contemporary cities weighed down by concrete and the crushing pressures of capitalism. It’s perhaps idealistic, as rents continue to climb here, but it represents an almost poetic idealism of a city and community that can allow personal expression and transformation to flourish.

As much of the world takes a rightward turn, LARRY (they/them)’s vulnerable approach to its subject feels all the more extraordinary. It’s a movie that avoids all the painful pitfalls of motivational filmmaking and chooses a less obvious but far more authentic path. Underscored by the phenomenal creativity and vision of Laurence’s own work, the documentary serves as a compelling and essential view of a life embodied and transformed. ■

LARRY (they/them) (directed by Catherine Legault)

LARRY (they/them) is now playing in Montreal theatres.

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