In Saigon, two young men who have been a couple for seven years talk about their upcoming marriage. One looks delighted and in love, the other too, despite this sad glint in his eyes. Later, we find them in the company of the first’s enthusiastic and affectionate parents. The second’s family will never be mentioned. This portrait is just one of many in the documentary Mother Saigon (Má Sài Gòn), by Khoa Lê, which explores sexual and gender identities in Vietnam from the perspective of filial ties.
Documentary filmmaker and multidisciplinary artist from Quebec, Khoa Lê was born in Vietnam. The theme of plurality of identity is at the heart of his approach. His first documentary, Ba Noiawarded at the Hot Docs and at the Montreal International Documentary Meetings, recounted both his reunion with his grandmother and with Vietnam.
In Mother Saigon, the filmmaker juxtaposes fragments of the lives of several people from the LGBTQ+ community in a kaleidoscopic approach. There is this other couple, this one formed by two women who are thinking of having children, and who are betting that their families will be more accepting of their union once the lineage is assured…
There is also this trans woman, who welcomes other trans people at different stages of transition. The latter were not necessarily all rejected by their loved ones: some came to Saigon first because of the greater openness that reigns there.
And this young gay man, who is thinking of ending it, and who writes tirelessly to the mother who turned her back on him… And this other trans woman who is looking for love, and her best friend, who has just found it …And several others, including mothers and fathers in solidarity with their offspring…
Moving proximity
Khoa Lê does not name the people met, nor the places visited, nor the time of day, which initially makes the proposition a bit destabilizing, for lack of the slightest reference. However, the ambient impressionism quickly does its work, while bits of multiple intimacies are revealed to us, without filter or evasion.
Because the participants do not give themselves over to the camera: they live in front of it, completely forgetting it.
The result is an extremely moving closeness, even poignant at times. Close, on the lookout, Khoa Lê’s camera is very empathetic, and it transcends the screen.
Editing readily resorts to free association. For example, when one of the participants dozes off in front of his TV showing images of the jungle, we find him in the following sequence sinking into lush nature, at dusk, in a gentle dreamlike passage.
Such discreetly poetic outbursts are not rare. As for the tone, it oscillates between melancholy, hope and joy. Because the film, even in uncertainty, even in misfortune, remains luminous and, yes, cheerful. This is one of his finest qualities.