Aren't we all Loose Cannons (2010) after all? (review)

Dear readers, today I bring you: Loose Cannons (2010) - A dark humour comedy feature by Fernand Ozpetek, Italo-Turkish queer filmmaker. Ozpetek’s production is a staple of Italian queer cinema – other works include The Ignorant Fairies (2001) and Saturn in Opposition (2007) - but this film in particular holds a very special place in my heart. I was 12 when it came out, and it was both the first LGBTQ+ film I ever saw and the first I ever heard of a queer person making cinema. Cherry on top - it was shot in my hometown, Lecce, so watching this really felt like being seen.

The film follows the younger sibling of a southern Italian family, Tommaso (Riccardo Scamarcio), as he tries to come out as gay to his expanded family. Before he can manage to, however, his older brother comes out first – resulting in their father having a heart attack that lands him in the hospital. The reaction brings Tommaso to second guess his decision, and he’ll have to figure out what to do next - while dealing with the multiple dramas of an extended family where every single relative is the titular "loose cannon".

This is an earnest, humorous and heartfelt rendition of what life is truly like as a queer person in South Italy; and in some ways, it is a love letter to Puglia. A bittersweet love, yes, as the film delves in the complex dynamics of family relationships so typical of Mediterranean culture, where loud, large families murmur around scandal like bees to honey. But love nonetheless, as even the less likeable characters are depicted with some affection, and (if not forgiveness) understanding. The love for this complex land is also evident in the cinematography, as the film opens on a poetic display of its rural, yellow landscapes that maybe fit a postcard better than they fit really living there.

The hand of a queer filmmaker telling this story is evident in the tactful balance between intense dramatic moments and lighthearted fun that carries the story delightfully. Ozpetek here truly shows his understanding of the importance of laughter, in the face of hard times and oppression – not punching down, but at one’s own struggle.

In doing so, he conveys all the delicate fun and heartbreak of this surreal yet very realistic struggle that lies in being in the closet to some people (Tommaso’s family) and proudly out to others (his friends and boyfriend), and this film ultimately comes to the hard-earned conclusion that the only way to truly be happy is to be free, to dance to your own rhythm, even when it’s hard.

Both the delightfully camp fun and the solemn liberation are summed up in one simple scene, about halfway through the movie, where Tommaso’s queer friends – who have come to support him as he is torn in his decision – all decide to go to the beach.

Here, in the beautiful backdrop of an Apulian beach, they all dance around in the water.

This scene fully expresses what Pride is all about – why the camp, the glitz and glitters, the feathers and loud music are oh so vital to queer liberation. On the surface, it is simply a shallow comedy relief, but to the viewer in the know this dance has in itself the essence of being queer – the right to be unapologetically ditzy, because we earned it with blood, sweat and tears. The right to look right in the eyes of those who tell you you’re unworthy, or not man enough, and just reply “Sorry, I’m a Lady”.