Orlando, My Political

Biography: An IDFA Must Watch

By Nina Cerasuolo  | Culture | November 12, 2023

Cover Illustration: Baby in Long Sleeve Shirt Lying on White Textile. Pexels / Cottonbro Studio

Among the many movies screening at the International Documentary Film Festival Amsterdam, culture reporter Nina Cerasuolo recommends one: Orlando, My Political Biography. 

From Nov. 8 to Nov. 19, IDFA (International Documentary Film Festival Amsterdam) comes back to Amsterdam for its 36th edition.

IDFA involves tens of movie theaters, with multiple screenings a day, expert talks, and Q&A sessions with filmmakers coming from all continents to discuss their work in this world-class event. To facilitate navigating the incredibly  extensive program, the festival organizers propose hand-picked  highlights thematic pathways and  sub-selections. Students can also  get discounted tickets for €6.5 (full price is €12).

If, despite the efforts of the organizers, these resources still feel overwhelming, please allow for a deeply felt piece of advice.

On Nov. 9 at 2pm, the  Pathé Thuschinksi theater hosted the Dutch premiere of Orlando, My Political Biography by Spanish philosopher and movie director Paul B. Preciado. Last summer, as I left the  Edinburgh International Film Festival after watching this movie, I thought I would never truly find the words to describe it. Here is my attempt, but I hope it will not suffice, and you will be forced to go watch this philosophical essay for yourself.

 Orlando, My Political Biography is a meta-movie, a poem, a political manifesto, a love letter. Throughout the 98’ footage, Preciado composes a letter to an indelibly modern 20th century icon: Virginia Woolf. The director thanks Woolf for embodying, representing, and narrating the queer experience throughout her rebellious life and work. More specifically, Preciado focuses on the character of Orlando, protagonist of Woolf’s 1928 novel Orlando: A Biography.

Woman in White Dress Shirt. Pexels / Cottonbro Studio

This collective chorus of Orlandos, like Virginia and Vita, rejects cis-heteronormativity: they challenge medicalization, they question the legislative process of legally affirming one’s gender transition, and they refuse to accept colonial binary ideologies.

The original Orlando, whose story draws from the life of the writer’s own lover, Vita Sackville-West, is a poet who travels across time and space and slowly starts changing their sex and gender, becoming Lady Orlando. Preciado’s Orlandos, instead, are multiple: they are trans women and men, non-binary teenagers and young adults who come together to affirm that they, too, are Virginia Woolf’s Orlando.

This collective chorus of Orlandos, like Virginia and Vita, rejects cis-heteronormativity: they challenge medicalization, they question the legislative process of legally affirming one’s gender transition, and they refuse to accept colonial binary ideologies. Within the narrative frame of a casting to perform Virginia Woolf’s Orlando, 26 actors – wearing baroque collars, hoodies and lingerie – talk about meeting their lover at a Pride protest and losing them to a 17th century battle, while being the ambassador of British Constantinople and experiencing queerness as a person of color. Preciado’s voiceover accompanies the experiences narrated by the actors themselves, who mix personal accounts with passages from Woolf’s Orlando.

Collectively, the stories of Preciado’s Orlandos build a continuum that, like Woolf’s Orlando, transcends history and geography to tell a powerful story of resistance to coerced standardization. Some Orlandos are people in their 60s, who struggled for their right to have their transition medically supported and legally recognized; some are nonbinary people in their 20s who oppose the dichotomic obligation to a medical transition, to a binary choice, to a fixed identity. Some have had traumatizing experiences, yet – unlike in the pitiful narratives cis directors often make of the trans experience – no one is their trauma. They are all themselves and, at the same time, they are all each other; they are all Orlando.

Hypnosis Videos. Pexels / Cottonbro Studio

Exiting the cinema, I asked myself whether the stories told by the actors were “real.” I soon realized it does not matter: all experiences are real because they are real in potential; they reject the distinction between reality and fiction in a collective stream of consciousness, visual and verbal. 

If you read until here and do not fully get the plot, forgive me. Orlando, My Political Biography has no individual plot, it is many lives.

 Four additional screenings are scheduled after the premiere (Nov. 10, 13, 16, 18). After this movie, you will have questions. You will have to ponder your own self, with the help of Woolf, queer thinkers and activists, gender theorists, and philosophy manuals. The screening on Nov. 13 at Eye Museum will be followed by a discussion between Preciado and queer activist and author Simon(e) van Saarloos.

Nina Cerasuolo is a university student in Amsterdam. The views expressed here are not necessarily those of The Amsterdammer. 

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