On Wednesday, Sept. 24, the Wesleyan Film Series screened Agniia Galdanova’s powerful documentary “Queendom.” Following the film was a Q&A with the film’s protagonist Gena Marvin and producer Igor Myakotin, moderated by Associate Professor of Russian, East European, and Eurasian Studies Roman Utkin and Assistant Professor of Film Studies Yaya Simakov.
“Queendom” presents a provocative portrait of a shade of queerness in Russia, a country with deeply conservative beliefs around LGBTQ rights. The film follows Gena Marvin, a drag performance artist from Magadan, a small town on the isthmus of the Staritsky Peninsula. Located on the far eastern side of the country and eight hours from Moscow, Magadan leaves very few options for Gena. Even a saunter in drag through the supermarket provokes security guards, who escort her from the building. Throughout the film, Gena resists societal expectations through her performance art. The film captures these performances alongside her personal story, sharing her journey toward self-discovery and acceptance as a transgender woman.
Early in the film, neighbors subject Gena to casual cruelty. Although some refer to her as a monster, others become enamored by her ethereality. While some admire her resilience, they don’t respect her existence. This dual perception of a single person creates a stark dichotomy in her identity, a unique pain in trying to defend one’s existence while not perpetuating those stereotypes.
Whether perceived as a caricature of queerness or an inspiring icon in queer activism, Gena stirs a conversation in a country that defines her existence as illegal gay propaganda. In Gena’s performances, her body is the art. She is a spectacle, meant to attract attention, not to subside into the background. Her fashion echoes her voice, and her defiance is galvanizing. While her personas are specific to causes and identities, her humanity is generalizable. One of Gena’s aims is to create visibility for the LGBTQ community and garner attention to the overlooked. And her mission speaks to a common struggle among those perceived as abnormal, both within and without their respective communities.
Several sequences in the film show Gena walking down the street in exuberant, larger-than-life costumes. These bizarre outfits, coupled with Galdanova’s poetic compositions, make for a visually stunning film. Much of the film focuses on Gena’s body and how she uses it to engage with society. In effect, her body becomes a vessel of speech in a society where free speech is grounds for incrimination. With her attention-grabbing drag, Gena demands to be seen and deprives passersby of the ability to channel hate through misperception. Performance art widens the confines of comfort by pushing the limits of what can be seen and what can be done.
For the locals, Gena’s devil-may-care attitude is irritating and bothersome. But to her online followers, Gena is fierce, a goddess to be worshipped. She sacrifices her education and her freedom to fight oppression, all under the allure of cool stoicism. But when that stoic layer breaks, Galdanova’s camera is there to capture Gena’s most vulnerable moments.
In the Q&A after the screening, an audience member asked Gena what it was like to have a camera in her face as she broke down crying.
In some of those hardest moments, Gena responded, she would ask Galdanova to turn off the camera.
But Galdanova would keep the film running, Gena said, reminding the subject that this process was what she had signed up for.
As an American, the most chilling part of the film is Gena’s expulsion from school, because it demonstrates the swift social debilitation of what the government deems to be an outlier. After Gena attends a protest against Russia’s invasion into Ukraine, wrapping her entire body in tape the colors of the Russian flag, she is removed from university. A silent, peaceful protest cost her an academic future.
This incident reveals a concerning truth: When a country refuses to invest in the education of young minds discontent with the state of their nation, the educated sect of the population becomes sterile, homogeneous, and submissive, pushing the disenfranchised further into the background. All the better for the state, but not for the people.
After the film, producer Igor Myakotin, a native of Magadan, spoke about the film’s production and distribution. Gena met with the audience over a Zoom call, at about 4:30 a.m. in Paris, where she recently received political asylum.
When describing her travels to different film festivals, Gena noted the immense excitement among the global queer community. Myakotin said their hope was to reach as many queer folks in Russia as possible; to that end, the film is free to watch on BBC Russia.
By the film’s conclusion, Gena has sought asylum in France, where she is still unique but no longer an anomaly to be feared. Reflecting on the core of the film, beneath all its nuance and specificity, it presents one universal truth: Art imitates life. Therefore, when a state politicizes someone’s existence, their art reflects the politics that constrict and threaten their livelihood.
Correction: an earlier version of this article misstated the name of a panelist.
Kendra Williams can be reached at kwilliams05@wesleyan.edu.
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