A ball of pure energy, Sean Baker's Tangerine will undoubtedly be the best
shot-on-an-IPhone comedy about transgender prostitutes you're likely to ever
see. Ironically, for a film with such a unique pedigree, the thing that stands
out the most is how little it relies on these things to produce a heartfelt,
gorgeously-shot portrait of an L.A. subset few will have direct contact with.
Peeling away the ripe skin, Tangerine is an unashamedly wild, brash
story about friendship and loyalty, minus the expected issues of sexual
identity.
Set on the sun-kissed streets of Hollywood
one frantic Christmas Eve, best friends Sin-Dee (Kitana Kiki Rodriguez)
and Alexandra (Mya Taylor) are meeting at their favorite doughnut shop. It's a
return to normalcy after Sin-Dee's stint in prison, but even though she's only
just been released that won't stop her from getting into trouble when she
learns her boyfriend and pimp Chester (James Ransone, the film's only
"big" name) cheated on her with another woman. What's worse; the girl
isn't trans, adding an extra layer of "Oh no he didn't!" attitude to
Sin-Dee's day-long crusade to get justice. Hitting the streets like a mad
woman, Sin-Dee pounds the pavement until she finds the girl, Dinah (Mickey
O’Hagan) and then pounds her face, dragging her through Hollywood by the hair
like a caveman.
While all of this is going on, Baker's
camera tails behind wildly like a stalker on a sugar high, giving the film an
immediacy and intimacy as stark as the blazing L.A. sunset. That it was shot on
a smartphone is a novelty most people won't know or care about; they'll be too
busy getting immersed in the crazy lives of Sin-Dee and Alexandra, who have a
fun, bouncy chemistry that can only come from experience. And so it's not
surprising to know that Rodriguez and Taylor are longtime friends, and it’s
their input that gives the screenplay so much life. Maybe that's also why the
film tends to drag when veering away from them, such as in a subplot involving
beleaguered Armenian taxi driver, Razmik (Karren Karagulian), one of
Alexandra's frequent customers. His struggles dealing with his own masculinity
while giving in to his desire for sex with transgenders is clumsily contrast by
his problems at home. Razmik occasionally interacts with the lead females but
it's too separate to be cohesive. More importantly, it lacks Rodriguez's
towering presence as Sin-Dee, a larger-than-life figure who could own Hollywood
by the sheer strength of her will. At times vulnerable and other times
intimidating, she's a force of nature and Tangerine's furious driving engine.
She's such a powerful, in-your-face presence that tagging alongside her
for 88 minutes can be exhausting. But then you also don't want her to go away.
A perceptive and tireless look at a minority culture
within a minority culture, Tangerine should appeal to audiences far
outside the LGBT community.
Rating: 3.5 out of 5
