my personal answer for Ari

Head on is a weighty film. Head on does not speak about family relations, or immigrants’ membership, or revolutionary ideology, or queer identity. This movie does not shred the contents in order that the audience may accept them, digest them, or even understand them. Head on hits the observer with incomprehension and frustration, with immobility, with the hostility of the weak. It slaps with the more basic sense of humiliation right after cradling us with a laugh of comradeship. There is an overwhelming sense of nihilism. This movie, the characters, the scenes, the music, they are not speaking. They are shouting.

However, as aggressive as this might be sensed, this intensity is the precise value of this movie. Then again, it is worth to ask about the causes of such a strong effect. What is it that makes the audience feel moved by a film that tells the story of someone as particular as a Greek-Australian gay man? Chris Berry, in a review for Metro Magazine, claims that there is a third intertextual dimension, besides those of the gay or the ethnic films, ‘that not only makes Head on appeal to a wider audience, but also significantly transforms the other two’ (1999: 36). This other intertextuality describes a coming of age film. I consider that is this intertextual discourse that affects the spectators, not only as a sexual or ethnic minority, but also as a human being, and perhaps even more as a human being in the postmodern times.

Luke Buckmaster says in a review for In Film Australia: "[m]y first reaction after viewing Head On was to take a long, deep breath" (1998). Now, my first reaction –or should I say my body's reaction– right after the end was to cry.

I'm not going to make a difference.

Why did this line bother me to this extent?

I'm not going to change a thing.

It may be coincidence or not. It may be only that I am too sensitive on these matters, that every time I hear meaning, reality, present, change –and then, one step ahead, social relations, social organization, social responsibility– my viscera react. This may or may not be related to my own ambivalence as Mexican-Japanese. I like to tell myself that all this struggling with relativity, and truth, and meaning, that all of this authentication of a suitable interpretation for morality –for good and bad, for musts and don'ts–, all this skeptical, distant, contemplative way of experiencing life is not a result of my ambiguity, it was not originated in my non-membership. This struggling has nothing to do with leaving Mexico, with living in Japan, with my construction of personal identity.

I believe that every human being –and not exclusively the ethnic or sexual minorities– passes through this process of identity construction, and this is somehow a rite of passage in order to become an adult. To feel ambiguity, indefinability, lack of belonging, is actually natural in every one of us. Yet, we have an undeniable tendency to identify ourselves in terms of continuity and disruption with the others. And how do we ultimately define ourselves depends on a sense of comfort that is necessarily linked with an other.

To my understanding, the core of this film addresses the precise dilemma of reaching this comfort, or the incapacity for linking with others. In other words, yes it speaks about ethnicity, and yes it speaks about sexuality, but above these particular fields of identification –or underneath them– it speaks about identity in the most fundamental sense. I believe that this property is what impacts the spectators. In the following lines, I will first explore the in-betweenness of Ari, as it has been described by Hardwick (2009). Subsequently, following Sarup’s perspective, I will propose an alternative view of Ari’s construction of identity.

Ari’s identity as located in-between fixed categories
Ari has been described as moving from one position to another, as a character defined by its in-betweenness, in between two cultures: the Greek traditional culture, on one hand, the Australian gay culture, on the other. But, what kind of in-betweenness is Ari's? According to Joe Hardwick –while characterizing protagonists in road movies–, Ari’s in-betweenness is that of the wanderers, which have 'the opportunity to find themselves in the process of losing themselves' (2009: 33). However, he continues, when contrasting road wanderers with street wanderers, it appears that the latters are better described as emphasizing 'far less on the idea of reaching a destination and much more firmly placed on digressiveness or deviation from a linear trajectory' (2009: 34), and that this is perhaps a better description for Ari. This is true, in the sense that Ari's in-betweenness is not a quality that allows movement from one position to another, from one identity to another, from one commitment to another. Ari's in-betweenness is static. He pretends to live his life, without making a difference, without changing a thing.

Thus, Ari’s identity may be described as in-between two ethnicities, and in-between two sexualities. Moreover, he could be portrayed also as being in-between adolescence and adulthood, as in a late adolescence:

If a person's lifetime is generally divided into a neat succession of stages which take one from childhood, to adolescence, to adulthood and eventually to old age, late adolescence itself appears as a kind of 'time-out' period from this overall disciplinary life-script, one which importantly precedes the period where couple and/or family as well as work or career responsibilities are meant to take over, responsibilities at the heart of societal definitions of identity (Hardwick 2009: 35).

On the other hand, is not this a rather determining view of his identity? Are these fixed labels useful devices to illustrate Ari’s construction of identity? Is he only definable by means of disruption? Can we claim that he is reluctant to any link at all?

A heterogeneous identity: Ari’s identity as a complex of several contradictory selves
In Identity, Culture and the Postmodern World, Madan Sarup claims that traditional views of identity define it as a determined quality, where ‘institutions play a crucial determining role’ (1996: xv). In other words, within these accounts, identity is seen as produced by ‘all the dynamics (such as class, gender, “race”)’ in a ‘coherent, unified, fixed identity’ (Sarup 1996: 14). However, he points out that in the construction of identity, there are ‘counter-identifications at work as well’ (1996: xvi), in the sense that identity is not homogeneous ­–fixed and coherent–, and that instead there are ‘several contradictory selves’ (1996: xvi), and that this quality is what characterizes human beings: in ‘perpetual mobility and incompletion’ (1996: xvi).

In contrast to the traditional, fixed version of identity, what he states is that identity is rather heterogeneous, that is, (1) not determined but in process, (2) contextual, since it depends on space and time, and (3) there exists both a ‘public’ version of the self and a ‘private’ one (Sarup 1996: 14-15). All these aspects –he stresses– may be contradictory between them. Identity –identities– may be conflictive. Identity is mobile. It depends on where you are, who are you addressing, and which activity are you performing.

Regarding Ari, even though he does have a loiterly way of living, and even though the majority of the scenes illustrate an impulse to destroy, an incapacity to communicate, a profound doubt in traditional values –or any value, for that matter–, a lack of commitment, giving as a result a devastating sense of nihilism –and hence reflecting an identity definable only in terms of disruption–, the film also shows that an alternative definition is possible.

Ari's identity can be described accurately by means of contextual behavior: as mobile, as having a private and a public face, as conflictive with his own self. Thus, rather than stating that this identity is in-between two homogeneous identities, such as the traditional Greek culture and the Australian Gay culture, I want to formulate that his identity works as a complex of several contradictory selves, following Sarup's description. These selves are built in context, dependent on the space, the addressee and the activity.

Connection and disruption within Ari
It appears to me that the contexts of connection and disruption for Ari, that is, his fields of identification (and non-identification) with the elements and people surrounding him, cannot be depicted simply as loiterly, simply as in-between, simply as straddling. Ari’s lack of commitment is evident, and it has been widely recognized in the literature. These fields of non-identification, with which Ari categorically disagrees, are mainly two: settling (getting a job, getting married), and being openly gay.

From the first scene, Ari shows his discordance with marriage. We see him dancing, incorporated, even leading, but then, when the ritual advances and it is about the next one getting married, he sneaks out. He is expressly invited and he refuses to be part of the ceremony. Again, in the coffee reading scene, he is not convinced at all when Tasia encourages him to ‘find a girl’ and ‘get married’. Once more, when Joe and Dina announce their engagement, he is manifestly annoyed, and they even have a fight because they do not agree with each other’s life-style. Getting a job is a discrepancy point in a number of occasions: with Sean, again with Tasia, again with Joe. Interestingly, it is also a point of convergence with Vasilli, since both are unemployed.

Another aspect to which Ari is reluctant is to be openly gay. He only has sex with men if it is anonymous, and if it is not intimate, and the encounter with Sean shows his unwillingness to do the opposite. Sean persuades him to have sex at his place, instead of the club, and persuades him to receive his (Sean’s) love. Ari accepts to go to his place, but after Sean’s affirmation of love, Ari reacts in a violent way.[1] This matter is also a concern within Johnny and Ari’s friendship. As we know, Johnny is an important presence in Ari’s life, given that he is the only close friend that is both a member of the Greek community and queer. However, it is clear that Johnny (or Toula) faces this process in a considerably different manner, making his/her presence also essential to the film. Johnny/Toula is openly gay, openly transvestite. He/she fights for a place as Toula at home, against his/her father. He/she dances traditional Greek music as a woman, dressed as a woman, in public, in a Greek club. He/she confronts the authority. And, finally, he/she confronts Ari: ‘Every time you keep your mouth shut, every time you keep quiet, that’s where you stay [knelt down]’.

Here, in one of the closing scenes, Johnny/Toula demands an open position of Ari, but he stands where he is. ‘My truth is my own’, he says. I consider that in order to understand Ari’s own truth, we have to believe that he actually has one, that he is not only refusing to any kind of commitment, that he is not simply in continuous denial of everything. To be precise, it is not case that Ari dismisses every aspect of the Greek culture and everybody around him. In certain contexts, we watch Ari bonding with family members, with members of the Greek community outside the family, outside the Greek community, expressly Sean. These contexts can be particularly referred as Greek dancing, listening to Anglophone music of the 60s and the 70s, and smoking marijuana, to list some examples.

It is not arbitrary that one of the activities in which he stands out is traditional Greek Dancing. Dancing is one of the means by which he gains acceptance. When he dances, he belongs. While dancing, he builds ties: with his family at the wedding, with her sister in various occasions, with the other males at the Greek Club, even with Ariadne –with whom he had a disagreement, but ‘fuck politics, let’s dance’–, even with his father –with whom we know that he has a non-understanding relationship–, and finally, in the closing scene, with himself.

A less significant bridge with the others, but still existent, is Anglophone music of the 60s and 70s. Again, in one of the first scenes, we have a view of the brother’s kitchen, the song You sexy thing is on, an indirect mention of the song (they sing) is made, and we share a fraternal moment with him and his brother, between whom we can see that there is a certain degree of complicity. This is also when he meets Sean. Moreover, on the next scene, we have The stones on, a direct mention of the band, while Sean and Ari speak for the first time. Finally, we have another kitchen (now at the parents’ house), Gonna see my baby tonight on, again a direct mention of the song, and Ari dancing with his mother and sister. This scene is quite remarkable because we are invited to the family intimacy, and we can clearly see that the hybridness that characterizes Ari is not exclusive of him. Moreover, we are witnesses of the various switches of the codes that this family shares: the change in the music while the father makes his entrance, from hippie Anglophone to traditional Greek Tsifteteli, the change in the attitudes, from informal to formal, the change in the social focus, from the female members to the male head of the family.

One of the elements that is worth to note is the treatment of drugs in this film. As viewers, as story listeners, as the media’s object, we are used to the fact that drugs are the straight road to perdition. My purpose here is not to defend the opposite side. Nonetheless, in this movie, consuming drugs is a very social linking activity. Take the usage of marijuana as example. It is always a collective moment, in which they enjoy themselves and build ties with each other: at the brother's kitchen, with Sean, with Toula, even with Dina –whom we presume Ari does not like–, even with Joe –with whom Ari disagrees about settling. In these contexts, he flirts; he opens himself enough to talk about love –Have you ever fall in love?–, enough to question the constraints of their traditional context without being violent about it –Do you really know what you want? Don't you want to have new experiences? Why do you want to marry Joe? Don’t you want to be free?

Last words
Even though Ari can be described as in-between two or more homogeneous fixed identities, he can also be described as a heterogeneous identity. In the former description, he seems loiterly, straddling, even confused. In the latter, we can see him as a complex of elements, perhaps contradictory with each other, giving as a result a rather new identity, more personal, a truth of his own. This identity may not be simply describable as gay or straight, as Greek or Australian. However, are we not all a heterogeneous complex of connection and disruption with our surroundings, sometimes even in a contradictory way?

To my understanding, it is this construction/deconstruction of identity, this personal struggle to find a truth of his own, that affects the observer, as we all are in a continuous process of finding and loosing ourselves, in perpetual mobility and incompletion.

Notes
[1] With respect to Sean’s declaration of love, Evangelos Tziallas (2010) states that ‘Sean’s ability to “fall in love” with someone within the span of a day is suspect; perhaps someone might like a potential partner after a day, but love someone? To me, his declaration suggests fetishism, possibly ethnic fetishism, or lustful conflation for a rugged, sexy bad-boy.’

Works cited
Buckmaster, L. (1998) Review: Head on (1998) [online]. In In Film Australia. [as accessed on February, 2011].

Berry, Ch. (1999) The Importance of Being Ari: Chris Berry Takes a Sideways Glance at Head On [online]. In Metro Magazine: Media & Education Magazine, No. 118, 34-37. [as accessed on February 2011].

Hardwick, J. B. (2009) Wander lust: genre, sexuality and identity in Ana Kokkinos's Head On. In Cultural Studies Review, 15 1: 33-42.

Sarup, M. (1996) The Home, the Journey and the Border. In Identity, Culture and the Postmodern World. Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP.

Tziallas, E. (2010) Surveillance, space and performance: informing interstitial subjectivities in Head On [online]. In Cut: A Review of Contemporary Media Jump Cut, No. 52, summer 2010. [as accessed on February 2011].