Actually, the men of G-voice overplay their lack of talent. Sure, they’re not the most harmonious of choirs, but that’s not their charm. They set out write songs about the gay male experience and to sing them in a way that only gay men can, and that they do with sensitivity and surprising frankness.
The poetic banality of G-voice’s compositions is drawn directly from the lives of the men who sing. As Dong-ha Lee introduces us to the choir members one on one, to doctors, to pharmacists, to students; they tell their stories of blossoming relationships, of cruising the streets, of miscommunicated breakups, maybe noting how they wrote their feelings down in a journal, maybe noting how one of the group’s composers found that journal and set it to music. He’ll then treat us to a beautifully produced film clip, camped up to the rafters.
It is a delightful conceit, and one that is deployed over an over with surprising delicacy as the men gear up for their tenth anniversary concert. Each introduction contributes to Weekends’ very human portrait of gay life in South Korea, which provides a moving backdrop for the choirs more political actions that are explored as the film progresses. The country’s first gay wedding, a human rights charter sit in at the town hall and, encouragingly, support for social issues that don’t directly touch on the queer experience, put G-voice at the forefront of the fight to better Korean society.
All these actions reap their own moving rewards, rounding out Weekends tender, personal look at the “good, bad and ugly” of gay life in Seoul with satisfying reach.
Definitely one to hunt out.
★★★★
Trailer:
Weekends screened as part of the Melbourne Queer Film Festival 2017.
You can check out other films from the festival here.
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