Directors: Roos Meskers & Daniël Haccou
Writers: Roos Meskers, Noa Vos & Daniël Haccou
Cast: Delicia Huijbrechts & Joël van Bekkum
Running time: 7mins
In some corners of the film festival circuit, ‘didactic’ is an insult. While usually the term is used as shorthand for a movie that is patronising or overbearing in the delivery of an obvious message, via a trite or played-out story. That needn’t be the case though.
Didacticism is something which is at the heart of most stories worth telling. It is the aim of saying something about the world we live in, and how the audience might play a role in making it better for themselves and others. It might be fashionable (or indeed, desirable for the wary sponsors of many festivals) to sneer at this idea, but the fact is very few artists approach a project simply looking to reflect life without commenting – some just have a knack for doing it in a way that isn’t so conspicuous.
Dysphoria is right on the border-line in these terms. It is a film with its heart in the right place, but which prioritises the delivery of its worthy message to such a degree that it almost becomes patronising. It is not so much telegraphed, as emblazoned across the screen in a glowing font. That’s a shame, given that the story itself centres on an art historian, who is feverishly trying to decipher the possible meaning of a cryptic painting in their office.
As the story gets underway, Skylar (Delicia Huijbrechts) is staring, brows knitted, at a weather-beaten old picture of three figures: a man, a woman, and a baby. While on the surface it looks like a pretty unremarkable depiction of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus, something about the trio is giving Skylar pause for thought. In particular, the expert has become fixated on the two figures at the back of the painting; “man… woman… man… woman…”
It is at this point that the film’s title, which was earlier burned onto our retinas with a giant yellow title card, starts to overtly feel like a spoiler. What should be a script about a person gradually coming to terms with their true self, via their interactions with art, suddenly feels as though it is playing catch-up with writers Roos Meskers, Noa Vos and Daniël Haccou, who are just too keen to let you know this is all about gender dysphoria.
That is an important message, of course, and delivering it in this didactic form could be very powerful. Potentially, it mirrors the journey the audience is on – as Skylar learns about themselves through their response to a painting, our interactions with a film are in turn showing us how it feels to be at war with part of yourself, to fearfully repress your true personality for fear of the social response to come. Dysphoria just needs a little more patience, and subtlety, to really deliver on that promise.
As Skylar – who presents as a woman – continues to stare and wonder about the relationship of the concepts of man and woman, and how they relate to third figure of the infant, we are transported to Skylar inner-monologue. Here, a confrontation begins with the character of Sander (Joël van Bekkum). Sander presents as a man, and despite the protestations of Skylar, suggests “I’m the one closest to you”, “you know how much I care for you” and “I will always be part of you”. Without being clued into the context, this could correspond with a number of possible ominous scenarios.
Considering Sander has already been imprisoned in a part of Skylar’s subconscious which looks like the set from an 80s video-nasty, Sander’s presence has been highlighted as threatening. Meskers, Vos and Haccou could have used this as an opportunity to deliver a red-herring, steering us to assume that this is some memory of an abusive partner, a traitorous friend, or some other toxic relationship Skylar could be desperate to escape from. When the ‘twist’ arrives, that could have made it that much more tragic that Skylar would treat this precious and loving part of their mind with such disdain.
Unfortunately, the way the scenes are rushed to conclusion means there is no time for such an atmosphere to linger. Roelof Meijer’s score (which aside from a clichéd ‘high-art’ strings section at the beginning, is pretty good) is left to inject menace into the scenario that the actors don’t seem allowed to explore, meaning we don’t get the time and space to empathise with Skylar, or feel their fear, about Sander – making their reconciliation feel inevitable in a way that also undercuts much of that story’s possible impact.
There are some signs that the writers are capable of the kind of light-touch needed for this kind of story. For example, the casting of Huijbrechts as Skylar and Van Bekkum as Sander mean the figures are visually distinct enough for the story not to have been immediately clear – if that’s all we had to go on – but they still have enough of a resemblance that when we finally get close enough to see they have the same nose-piercing, it could have been an aha-moment. Elsewhere, Meskers, Vos and Haccou don’t hammer us too much with interpreting the painting conclusively – leaving us to draw our own conclusions about how new life might now emerge out of this harmony between the figures of a woman and a man.
One area where the filmmakers could have done with a little less subtlety is the introduction of the stakes, though. At no point is it made clear what Skylar’s job is (I know she is a docent or lecturer at a museum, because it said it in the submission notes), and it is not clear why this painting is on the lecturer’s desk for deciphering – or what might happen if they can’t deliver on that front. In some ways, that’s not necessary to what is being said, but in other ways that makes it even more important.
We need some other context clues to busy our minds with, to help us suspend our disbelief, and relate to this as a form of reality we can empathise with – and some everyday minutiae would really help with that. At the same time, when Skylar suggests they may “lose everything” thanks to Sander, it would further help us to know just how important their decision is, because then we would know what that everything might have been.
I had a lot to say about what the team behind Dysphoria could have done better. That will seem harsh, especially in the knowledge that this comes from first-time directors and film students. But I am keen to spell out what they could do better because I have seen enough here to suggest that they can do it. Every scene is lit and framed beautifully. The actors are well-chosen and deliver their dialogue convincingly. The editing is sharp and cohesive. Most importantly, the filmmakers have put their names on the line to tell an important story, at a time when transphobia and its goose-stepping proponents are looking to shame anyone experiencing gender dysphoria to suffer in silence, or face the consequences. To everyone involved in this heartfelt production, I would say that while there are lessons to be learned from this film, you are on the right track. Please keep doing what you are doing.