WILLIAM DUAN, filmmaker, talks with monotone about his short Tuī Ná, Queer Representation, Australian Film Identity, and the state of the Australian Film Industry. 

Winner of Best Film at Queer Screen’s 30th Mardi Gras Film Festival , Chinese-Australian filmmaker William Duan’s poignant, emotionally rich account centres on a 17-year-old caught between culture and coming to terms with the self. Tuī Ná is an arresting examination of honesty, shame and filial duty that eschews Western queer cinema’s reliance on the lover as a narrative fulcrum.

Alexander sat down with William Duan to discuss his film Tuī Ná, and it went like this:

William: Back in 2018 or 2019 I was sitting in cafe on Bourke street, with my friend Grace who had a similar trajectory to me from fashion to film - 

Alexander: So a twinning?

William: Very twinning! Both of our first film forays got into Centre Pompidou. I was telling her in this random cafe about all these ideas, with arcs already in mind that would become Tuī Ná. In 2019 I pitched through the MQFF Pitch Pleez! Programme, and became a finalist. My pitch didn’t win, but thanks to that deadline I wrote a short film script in full flow state. And very fortunately, was accepted to pitch. 

The feedback from the panel was mostly quite positive, they loved the script. The one question that tripped me was when they asked “why intersectional stories were important”, and I was like….because….

IN UNISON: They are? [laughs]

Alexander: When I think of the work that I've seen of yours and in particular this film, I see them as humanistic. When you think about making a film are you going into it thinking I need to make this movie for an intersectional reason or simply that I'd like to make a film about a person?

William: There was, or is, a trend for first films, whether that be a short or a feature, to be quite personal… drawing on a personal experience, especially in drama. I think for me specifically during that time I was really, really, obsessed with this idea of whether queerness, as we understand it in the West, is compatible with Chinese-ness - whether they could actually co-exist or not.

When I was conceiving of Tuī Ná I was really interrogating that idea, and I think I also found an answer through that process.  Which was that - for me - it isn’t, and so I wanted to explore that tension. I think that the western conception of queerness is quite individualistic: of being true to yourself, and understanding your own identity in your own way. 

They’re really beautiful concepts, and they are concepts which I’ve grown up with. I was thinking about other queer stories during the time I was writing Tuī Ná, about how the stories in queer coming of age films are often centred around relationships between the protagonist and the lover, or an external liberating force, and I wanted to explore more what that relationship would look like centred around family. 

I was very closted at the time to my family, so that is part of the reason why it was so present. 

Alexander: In the last 10 to 15 years queer representation is very different cinematically than it was before. In a funny sort of way we’re liberated by the fact that now there's more movies about random gay characters as opposed to only suffering, like  Broke Back Mountain. Would you place Tuī Ná into that dialogue, or was it something that was stemming from an experience of yours being put out there?

William: When I was younger, in my early 20s, I remember really actively seeking out queer cinema, because it was so hard to find. 

Alexander: Even Gregg Araki is only getting Bluray transfers now!

William:  Exactly. I remember this stage of seeking out these films which were so hard to find and they were always so dark. I went to a private school and was very much in a white bubble, and so I didn’t come across much cinema that I felt really connected to apart from all the Asian media I watched with my sister and fam when I was young. In a way then, Tuī Ná was speaking to/trying to craft my own lexicon on what that ‘queer cinema’ looks like.

Maybe it’s a glaring omission on my viewing habits, but I don’t think about “queer cinema” much these days. It feels like there are more poppy light blockbuster-y things, which is lovely and sweet… they feel like they belong to the world of ‘representation media’. I think though that way of making and commissioning work has its flaws, it’s still important for young people to see that, and to know that their identity doesn’t spell out some sort of cursed fate.

It's also important as well because, you know, representation does matter. And like I remember after year 12, the reason why I chose to study fashion is because I thought that was one of the only possible careers for a gay person. Yeah, which is like, so dumb to think about nowadays.

Alexander:  How do you find making films here in Victoria? Working with friends, community, filmmakers and ‘creatives’ here?

William: I think there's so much talent here. I think we're lucky in Naarm, there's a lot of real artists here who are really committed to telling important stories.

It also makes it better when you're working with friends, because you get to develop a shorthand working together. It does feel like a luxury being able to discover new aspects to the people you already love.

In terms of larger perspectives on the Australian film scene, I feel like it can get pretty dire - in terms of funding, especially. There’s really not a strong Australian cinematic identity -  there’s not one that feels solid enough, and definitely not inclusive. 

Alexander: It’s very un-holistic, if it exists at all. 

William: Exactly - it’s like either really masc gritty underbelly, or…I don’t know, SBS hah. 

I got dinner with Ratchapoom Boonbunchachoke, the director of a film I loved last Miff called A Useful Ghost. We talked about our respective film industries - he was asking about Australia, and he asked specifically “What are Australian Blockbusters like?” and I was just like ahhhhh…

IN UNISON: [laughs]

William: Like…”Blockbusters”?? 

Even if they exist in any capacity - like a Baz Luhrmann film or whatever, they’re American studio Funded. 

Alexander: Right, they’re sitting in that same legacy as those 70s and 80s Australia productions, like Wake in Fright, or Razorback, that are British or American productions shot here. 

William: Right! So it’s pretty dire in that way. Even looking at nations that are a lot smaller than ours, a lot of them have such strong cinematic identities. When [Ratchapoom Boonbunchachoke] and I were unpacking it, we landed on the necessity of creatinga national storytelling identity. In Australia we rely so much on British and American media, whereas Southeast Asian, or really countries all over the world, especially non-English speaking ones, have to create their own stories. Maybe that type of friction is needed.

Also, because so much of Australian media is created through public funding there is a public mandate of what gets funded and what doesn’t. Based on these restrictions, you have to debate what kind of stories are worth telling - and so inevitably when you're making any sort of judgement on a story, you're limiting it to, not just in the contents in the story, but also the process in which it's made, as in the creative process. 

Alexander: Alright, final question. So how do you think of your own film history? What influences do you draw upon, how you think about your influences and inspirations concretely. 

William: Kinda lame, but I’m really inspired, often, by the things I see incidentally, the things I see day to day. Things just come into my brain - sometimes with films themes come first, and the story will flow from there.