It's Pride month again, that time of year where we LGBTQ people put Judy Garland on the mantle, a flute of Bellini and a charcuterie tray on the coffee table and wait on the stairs for Freddie Mercury to come swishing down the chimney. And while we wait for that, we reviewed the 2003 film, Pieces of April.
It may seem strange, heading Pride with a movie about a cishet young woman trying to connect with her estranged cishet family over a Thanksgiving meal. But the movie isn't that straight forward, even if it is filled with straight characters. What really happens is that April, over the course of the movie, finds found family while she hops from oven to oven trying to cook a single floor-turkey. See, her oven well it is broken and April (according to her sister Beth) is NOT a wiz in the kitchen. Her boyfriend, Bobby, who is adorable and broke is out trying to find a suit to wear to be presentable for her family, so he is largely absent to the point of frustration for me. But this isn't Bobby's story, it's Aprils.
But it's also not April's story, it's Joy's. Joy is April's mother and well she has cancer which is terminal. She's hanging on while the rest of the family is figuratively perched on the edge of their seats like a group of kids watching a slasher flick. To them she is a bird, fragile and weak, and she is well aware of their breath being held. Joy has little joy in her life, and you can tell that the fight has taken a toll on her patience if not her spirit. She is going to go to April's Thanksgiving but she is afraid of making another bad memory with the daughter she loves but never connected with.
April and Joy, two people who are entirely alone in their thoughts even while surrounded by people. They connect only at the end and it's subtle, unspoken, because it doesn't need to be anything else. It's enough.
Happy Pride!
