Coming out of the same studio that gave us RuPaul's Drag Race, and stacked with a whole crew of former contestants, Stop! That! Train! plays like RuPaul basically taking a bow for the entire franchise she's built. It's not really a gay film in the traditional sense, but with so many drag stars from Ru's shows popping up alongside a few cameos from well known out gay actors, I figured it earns a spot on this blog anyway. The whole thing is completely over the top, packed with GenZ slang, loud flashy visuals, and humor that's constantly winking at you knowing how ridiculous it is. Going in you'd assume it's meant to be a laugh riot, and a lot of critics online seem to be eating it up, but I just couldn't get into it at all. I've never really been someone who vibes with campy silly stuff like this, so honestly my reaction doesn't surprise me one bit. The setup follows Tess and DeeDee, two low level stewardesses who sneak onto the fancy Glamazonian E...
There was something almost magnetic about this film that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Some movies have this rare ability where every single frame feels worth looking at, the people, the places, the movements, all of it just draws you in. This film absolutely has that quality. It's a fictional retelling of real episodes from the life of dancer and choreographer Rianto, who practices a traditional dance form from his native island of Java called the Lengger dance, where men take on feminine appearance and movements.
The story follows Juno and is told almost in chapters, each one marking a different stage of his life, as a child, as a teenager, and each chapter carries some kind of crisis tied to how his body and sexuality are read by the world around him. Without a mother figure in his life Juno has grown up comfortable with solitude and seclusion. As a child a dance master spots the grace and flexibility in his body and sees him as a natural dancer, but that same effeminate quality gets him bullied. As a teenager we watch him learning to sew clothes and a significant portion of this chapter is devoted to his closeness with a boxer in the village. Juno becomes a kind of assistant to him and the boxer genuinely likes having him around. The homosexual undertones are there and you can sense that Juno is completely mesmerized by this man's physicality, seeing him as something between a friend and an obsession. He trembles watching the boxer try to force himself into what everyone around him expects a real man to look and act like. Sadly that thread doesn't go anywhere hopeful because the boxer ends up nearly losing his life over debts. The final chapter brings traces of communist activity into the village and a communist officer finds himself deeply drawn to Juno, both as a man and as a dancer. But his desires directly contradict the party rhetoric he's out there pushing and that conflict puts Juno right in the middle of a much larger struggle, desired for his feminine grace and his dancing, and mostly powerless against the forces swirling around him. The short intermissions between chapters where Juno steps out and speaks directly to camera and dances just for us are quietly powerful, they create this intimate thread between him and the audience that runs through the whole film.
Memories of My Body is beautiful and contemplative and it doesn't really hand you a neat plot or tidy conclusions. This is very much a film for people who are comfortable with slow cinema that doesn't follow a traditional structure. It blends film and traditional performance in a way that feels unlike either medium on its own. And yet despite the lack of a clear narrative arc I found myself completely absorbed in Juno's world, especially during the boxer chapter. Even when same sex attraction surfaces the film is never really about that. It's about something more urgent, the need from deep inside to inhabit the body you actually have. I wouldn't call this a gay film at all. It's more of a study of gender fluidity, the mystique of the human body and the personal, social and political forces that press down on it all at once. The message underneath all of it is about learning to love yourself and understanding the trauma that bodies absorb over a lifetime and how that shapes who we become. Juno has been on the receiving end of verbal abuse and violence from a very young age and the film asks you to sit with that and understand it. It also quietly points out that the people who hurt him often didn't even realise they were doing damage. If you come in looking for a gay storyline you won't find one. But if you're open to a beautifully made film that gets into conversations around gender fluidity, ancient tradition, sexuality and culture and what it means to exist right in the middle of all of that, this is absolutely worth your time. (7/10)

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