"Call me Marianna" is not an easy watch, for more than one reason - not only it's a story of a transgender woman living in Poland (the move was shot shortly before the far-right party, PiS, became the government). When we meet her, she's struggling to make relations with her family, who fully reject her transition. It's like making a whip out of water.
For a while, it seems like she's getting what she so desperately needs - the surgery consultations are going well, and she's clearly optimistic about her future, even if it's one that will cost her family.
At some point, Marianna's fight takes a bigger toll - due to the hormone use, she experiences a brain stoke, leaving her a half-paralysed, on a wheelchair, with difficulties speaking. The jig is up - it was never supposed to be easy - Poland in 2014 is hardly the best place in the world to be a transgender woman - and now it's going to be that much harder.
And yet Marianna never gives up, not fully, not even when calling her mother from the hospital bed - clearly depressed, pondering about her own survival, mental and physical. She somehow still hangs on, depending on the few friends she has to get her going, literally.
As the credits roll, two main feelings complement each other - one of the heartbreak for Marianna's struggles, so faithfully reflecting how it is to be a transgender person (or lgbtqia+, for that matter), and another one, a strong admiration for her power, determination, and strength.
The second one is a bit more prevalent.
For a while, it seems like she's getting what she so desperately needs - the surgery consultations are going well, and she's clearly optimistic about her future, even if it's one that will cost her family.
At some point, Marianna's fight takes a bigger toll - due to the hormone use, she experiences a brain stoke, leaving her a half-paralysed, on a wheelchair, with difficulties speaking. The jig is up - it was never supposed to be easy - Poland in 2014 is hardly the best place in the world to be a transgender woman - and now it's going to be that much harder.
And yet Marianna never gives up, not fully, not even when calling her mother from the hospital bed - clearly depressed, pondering about her own survival, mental and physical. She somehow still hangs on, depending on the few friends she has to get her going, literally.
As the credits roll, two main feelings complement each other - one of the heartbreak for Marianna's struggles, so faithfully reflecting how it is to be a transgender person (or lgbtqia+, for that matter), and another one, a strong admiration for her power, determination, and strength.
The second one is a bit more prevalent.