Nikkala Kovacevic
Greek Weird Wave
The Reality of a Queer Europe in Xenia
Panos Koutras’ Xenia takes the concept of a road trip film and uses it as a tool to place his leading characters under the microscope of the audience — as well as that of Greek society. Ody and Dany embark on a harrowing journey to enter Ody in a singing competition, trailed by the memory of their mother and her idol Patty Pravo. The two are also on a quest to find their birth father in order to claim their Greek citizenship, as they could both soon face deportation. The film presents the two brothers in juxtaposition to one another. The very expressive and colorful Dany in contrast with the more muted and logical Ody, together they represent the two sides of what Nicholas Manganas describes as an effort to “queer Europe.” Through Dany’s impulsiveness and blending of reality and imagination, Koutras brings the prospect of a Queer Europe to the screen while also shining a light on the concept and its flaws.
Xenia’s happy moments are characterized most commonly by music and dancing. When Ody and Dany reunite with their mother’s old friend and perform in his apartment, and when, in the midst of running away from the law, Ody and Dany throw a birthday party for Ody. These moments effectively bring to the forefront what could be considered a queering of the circumstances that are holding the lead characters back, and therefore a queering of European laws and cultural practices. “A Queer Europe, then, must be one of hope, of recognition and of celebration. All three elements must come together in the search for European cultural artifacts that might, once again, not only make us dream, but perhaps also make us smile,” (Manganas, 57). This optimistic view of a potential Europe opens the gateway for activist movements and cultural shifts, specifically from those who have been ostracized like the queer community. That being said, Manganas follows this prospect up with the caveat that such a queer space could not be achieved by an outward expression of said joy or celebration. “Any attempt to once again make Europe inspire must begin in silence, for to participate in the current moment means engaging with charged political narratives, leading to yet more tensing. What better figure, then, than the queer to lead such a withdrawal, for it is the queer that has historically been shamed for his (or her) passivity,” (Manganas, 57). This is exemplified in the film, when a look back at each celebration reveals that they are all done in private. Dany’s queerness, as well as him and his brother’s background, limits their joy to this “passive” space, only to be enjoyed by the two partaking in it.
Ody and Dany’s dance with their uncle, while secluded, is also a moment of pure joy, unadulterated by any outstanding threats or plot devices. “This deliciously camp scene, with echoes from the filmic oeuvre of Fassbinder and Ozon, is a celebration of the temporal dislocation currently underway in contemporary Greece as it emerges as a multicultural and multilingual society, (Manganas, 61). This idea of “temporal dislocation” is key to Koutras’ portrayal of queer joy in Xenia. While dislocated from the rest of the film, viewers are free to enjoy the celebrations of the characters in an unbridled way. Where in another film, Ody’s birthday party might be interrupted by the cops finding the two, Koutras extends the scene into a full conclusion, allowing both the characters and the viewers to enjoy the moment in its entirety.
This effect mimics the use of magical realism in the film, specifically in regard to Dany. He walks the line between fantasy and reality for much of the film, a trait that is thrust to the forefront when it is revealed that his bunny is in fact just a stuffed animal. This shift between childlike imagination and harsh realism is in a way Dany’s act of queering his reality. In other words, much like how Koutras creates pockets of celebration in a film that otherwise exposes the realities of existing as an Albanian queer person, Dany creates moments of imagination that represent his escape from the pain of his reality. Koutras does not shy away from showing the violence and fear the two are forced to undergo, “But by making the crisis background noise, Koutras avoids engaging with the temporal dislocation that economic crisis often provokes in subjects, where one’s ability to make sense of the present is overloaded by nostalgia and the inability to imagine a future, (Manganas, 59). One could consider the film in terms of separate realities, the idealistic version and realistic, a dichotomy that is also present in Dany and Ody’s relationship and perception of their situation.
These two forces come to a head during Dany’s confrontation of who he believes to be his father. He enters with the confidence and ease of someone who has all the privileges and power he hasn’t been afforded. This all begins to crumble once Dany pulls a gun on his “father” and his wife. We see that Dany’s image of what should be happening in the interaction is at odds with his reality. This is further exemplified when he sees that the man’s chest is bare, which in his mind indicates that he is not his father. This scene, while showing Dany to embody some childlike qualities and naivitée, also brings the “Queer Europe” at odds with the real Europe. Instead of celebrating their successes in what Manganas describes as a “passive” manner, in self-contained environments where their identities play no role, Dany attempts to bridge his manufactured reality into real life by confronting his father on his own.
In this way, Koutras appears to be dismantling some of what he assembled earlier in the film as the hope or possibility of a queer space. “The disillusionment that many now feel with both Queer and Europe is because both terms were originally set up as ontological objects of hope that failed to fulfill their promise. We cannot, then, separate hope from the global conditions and national debates that seek to both reinforce and undermine it, (Manganas, 64). This climactic scene in the film proves this point, that the two versions of Europe cannot coexist, that they both require the shielding and containment of queer or non-conformist identities. Koutras does leave the film leaning toward the more fantastical, and in turn hopeful side. Dany sees Patty Pravo driving in her car, a symbol of his mother and identity existing alongside his reality in Greece. In this way, Koutras doesn’t discount the existence of queer spaces or the potential for a “Queer Europe,” but instead highlights how the two will consistently struggle to infiltrate the mainstream.
As two brothers, Dany and Ody balance each other out on a scale of idealism and realism. In the film’s sociopolitical context, the two being so at odds with each other yet so interconnected directly correlates with the struggle between queering Europe and maintaining tradition in a national sense. The method of a road trip film encapsulates the continuous journey the two must go on to reconcile their identities and place in the country they’ve spent all their lives in. While given a hopeful ending, the film also does not shy away from implying the cyclical nature of this position.
Works Cited
Manganas, Nicholas. “A Europe of stories: Queer Cartography and the grammar of
hope.” Journal of European Studies, vol. 52, no. 1, 15 Feb. 2022, pp. 54–68,
