This review was originally created as part of Lesflicks.com‘s coverage of BFI Flare Film Festival 2022.
Buried treasure and dead names. A body positive dominatrix. Purple pastels and bowling shoes. Entirely indecent comparisons to bowling balls and an evisceration of the tired Hollywood tropes which both shape and limit transgender representation on screen. Director Lyle Kash cites John Waters as an inspiration, and similarly clever dialogue and vicious humour lends the comparison some weight.
The chaotic first five minutes of Death and Bowling are played so absolutely straight in terms of tone and delivery, that I must admit it had me fooled. I stared at the whirlwind introduction of employees working for an entirely trans production company, barely had time to marvel at the realistic representation provided by main character X (Will Krisanda – yes, ‘X’ is the character’s name) … and then watched as they swapped him out for a cisgender stunt double with blush applied as scars across his chest. This bruisingly damning statement on Hollywood’s limits when it comes to representation made me laugh, as did the title sequence involving X auditioning for bit parts such as ‘Sad Transgender Man’ and ‘Transgender Best Friend’ using lines like “my body is my prison”. The humour in this film is vicious and sardonic and dark, and I do appreciate humour is subjective, but the knowing tone used by X allows the audience to feel in on the joke.
The range of queer representation within the film is extraordinary: two ‘T4T’ or ‘trans for trans’ couples, one of which includes a 75-year old trans lesbian with an adult son. Seeing a range of body types and marginalised groups usually equally neglected by Hollywood included in the narrative rather than as bit parts is refreshing. A further extraordinary inclusion is that of less ordinary trans experiences: a refusal by a parent to accept their trans child despite being one themself; the recognition and envy which can arise from seeing a partner undergoing the same transition; and the enjoyment one trans man used to feel in his birth sex. These stories do not fit the miserable, predictable audition reel listed off by X at the beginning of the film and are therefore not included in mass media productions – it’s extraordinarily refreshing to find them here.
Even without the explicitly trans content, Death and Bowling is an enjoyably stylised musing on the power of community. A wonderful relationship blossoms between the two leads, and it’s a fine romantic dramedy, reminiscent of a Wes Anderson film in its execution.