Black Sheep

A towering achievement in documentary storytelling!


Black Sheep

  • A towering achievement in documentary storytelling!

Black Sheep

  • A towering achievement in documentary storytelling!


Rated

N/A

Starring

Reshel Shah Kapoor
Kaif
Sneha
Manisha Durgavli
Mariya Jadhav

Written by

Reshel Shah Kapoor

Directed by

Reshel Shah Kapoor



What to Expect

It’s not always that I watch documentaries, lest I am disappointed by the sameness of its storytelling. I mostly tend to avoid these films, because of just how most of them manage to pick a template issue and go about everything by following a treatment that reeks of deja vu. Of course, there are a few that do manage to surprise me—Supersize Me, Kamal Swaroop’s The Battle for Benares, and what have you.

This is when Black Sheep quietly made its way to the festival circles, piquing my curiosity.

And it’s not that the topic covered by the director for the film—an observation of one of the transgender communities in India—is a novel one. Indian television show Satyamev Jayate has made attempts to throw light upon not just an alternate (specifically to Indian society) sexualities, but genders as well. A key highlight of one of its episodes is Indian Hindi-language actor, producer and director Aamir Khan’s conversation with Gazal Dhaliwal, and the significant distress many humans go through in gender dysphoria. That apart, there have been many documentaries (short or otherwise) that have covered the very stratosphere with varying degrees of success—none of which this cynical self was ever able to identify with, primarily due to just how weak the visual storytelling of most of these films have been.

What, then, would make me want to watch Black Sheep? I wasn’t sure, but there was something unyielding, something very organic about its trailers that made me want to know more. Was this bordering on a risky level of hype? Maybe, but still I wanted to know. Over the past few years, I’ve watched a lot of films that have disappointed me, and that have surprised me right out of my socks.

And despite my positive anticipation of the movie, I didn’t know that the movie would still fall into the latter category.

What’s it About?

Filmmaker Reshel Shah Kapoor gives her audience an outlook into her observations on the transgender community in Mumbai—some that may give her hope, some that will break her heart, and some that might just inspire her to move forward in life as a stronger individual.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

The Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken

Many documentaries that have found success in the past decade or so aim simply to be the voice of reason. Now that might not be a terrible thing on the part of the filmmaker, but it must be taken into account simply how familiar the storytelling structures of most of them have come to be. Of the most recent of these successful documentary filmmakers is Davis Guggenheim, most of whose films from An Inconvenient Truth right down to his last He Named Me Malala has a sense of unreal deliberation to them; a sanitized performative-styled narrative that never went anywhere. Sure, the production values of his films are stunning, but while most of them claim to toe the line, they never do. They’re left down to being (at the risk of repeating myself) sanitized retellings of his various issues, be it of the ongoing environmental disaster that Leonardo DiCaprio was so passionately speaking of as a part of his speech at the 88th Academy Awards, or of a woman who braved society to become the poster-girl of women’s rights all over the world.

Black Sheep might follow a few revered styles of filmmaking—the expository, the performative, the participatory, and the observational—but director Reshel Shah Kapoor quite effortlessly manages to blend these styles, while still staunchly moving forward with a rather organic narrative out of it. Reshel is but an observer in the world she has decided to enter and become a part of for the time that she’s spent there. The very beginning of her story has her admitting, quite frankly, that she knew nothing about the transgender community than what she was told through Indian movies or what little possibly biased information she’s been able to gather on the internet. This directly opposes the confidence many directors portray while narrating their documentaries. She expresses how the widely disproportionate narrative of transgender women has affected her, and within the first quarter, her bumbling awkwardness is captured and green-lit within the narrative. This does two specific things:

  • The director makes herself vulnerable to the observing watching her journey; and
  • The audience, as a result, is effortlessly able to relate to her

Kapoor is unafraid to avoid the narrator’s-high-horse trope and makes herself an accessible individual who learns along the way, keeping at bay the template-sympathetic voice most narrators would love to go forward with. The movie, instead, chooses empathy—an emotion widely misconstrued and replaced by hollow sympathy in societies all over.

Not Friends, But Family

Not Friends, But Family

Now this sure is a documentary with many conversations that Kapoor makes with many people, but it is essentially also a feature with many intersecting plot points. Of prime importance are two: her rendezvous with Mariya, and the photo shoot with “fashionista” Kaif. These are given a justifiable priority out of all the stories of other people that also do make an appearance. Every one of these plot points gets their version of closure, but what warms your heart is just how Reshel earnestly attempts to (in these highly participatory segments) help each of them. And because this world isn’t perfect, she often fails. At a certain juncture within its runtime, viewers will notice a moment of poignance in which Kapoor tries to connect an estranged child with her family, and the results aren’t rosy because life isn’t a mainstream feature film. Broken down completely, Kapoor calls up her mother, both shocked, angry and helpless. This in itself is enough to make many viewers delirious at just how people deal with image, reputation and culture—not just in India, but all over—and how they meld together to form a sometimes disastrous obstacle for many humans with lost identities.

If there’s any possible nit that I’d have to pick, it would be with the technical inconsistencies that bring the film down. While the sound design of the film has been commendably handled, there are many junctures in time where the glitches and the inconsistencies in quality are quite audible to the layman’s ear. The film boasts of mostly well-handled cinematography, with many a risqué shot-taking attempt being part of the film for good reason (budgetary-wise and visual movement-wise). But what shines in the technical department is the flawless soundtrack that understands the emotions the movie was going for from the get go, without utilizing the standard heartstring-pullers. The score here, instead, goes for a very Santaolalla-ish (not in instrumentation, but in tone) silence, which speaks louder than any deliberate score would.

Worth it?

Essentially, Black Sheep doesn’t set out being a saint or preaching to the audience. Without directly doing those things, however, the movie—by its wee end—does and says so much more. This is certainly a documentary about the transgender community, and it might not be as vast or as solution-heavy as would otherwise be an incredibly attractive way to go. It does, however, silently scream out a rather urgent plea to its viewers: question the world, and ask it the right things. Of the many things it can say to sound relevant, it instead just tells its viewers to be themselves, find themselves “in other people”, and—most importantly—self-educate and empathize. The movie doesn’t set out to be groundbreaking; it instead simply is the documentation of a human being anyone can relate to or emotionally access. And without doing possibly any of the things documentaries on societal issues usually do, it vastly impacts (also possibly changing) the narrative of the trans community in India. THAT is the power of this low-key documentary.

This is a gem of a film, and if it’s around your vicinity, make sure you do not miss this one.

Consensus: 4.5 Stars
Extraordinary!
About the Author

Ankit Ojha

Facebook

Ambivert. Intermittent cynic. Content creator. New media enthusiast. Binge-watcher. Budding filmmaker.

Watch the trailer

We’re viral

Like UsFollow Us


Rated

N/A

Starring

Reshel Shah Kapoor
Kaif
Sneha
Manisha Durgavli
Mariya Jadhav

Written by

Reshel Shah Kapoor

Directed by

Reshel Shah Kapoor



What to Expect

It’s not always that I watch documentaries, lest I am disappointed by the sameness of its storytelling. I mostly tend to avoid these films, because of just how most of them manage to pick a template issue and go about everything by following a treatment that reeks of deja vu. Of course, there are a few that do manage to surprise me—Supersize Me, Kamal Swaroop’s The Battle for Benares, and what have you.

This is when Black Sheep quietly made its way to the festival circles, piquing my curiosity.

And it’s not that the topic covered by the director for the film—an observation of one of the transgender communities in India—is a novel one. Indian television show Satyamev Jayate has made attempts to throw light upon not just an alternate (specifically to Indian society) sexualities, but genders as well. A key highlight of one of its episodes is Indian Hindi-language actor, producer and director Aamir Khan’s conversation with Gazal Dhaliwal, and the significant distress many humans go through in gender dysphoria. That apart, there have been many documentaries (short or otherwise) that have covered the very stratosphere with varying degrees of success—none of which this cynical self was ever able to identify with, primarily due to just how weak the visual storytelling of most of these films have been.

What, then, would make me want to watch Black Sheep? I wasn’t sure, but there was something unyielding, something very organic about its trailers that made me want to know more. Was this bordering on a risky level of hype? Maybe, but still I wanted to know. Over the past few years, I’ve watched a lot of films that have disappointed me, and that have surprised me right out of my socks.

And despite my positive anticipation of the movie, I didn’t know that the movie would still fall into the latter category.

What’s it About?

Filmmaker Reshel Shah Kapoor gives her audience an outlook into her observations on the transgender community in Mumbai—some that may give her hope, some that will break her heart, and some that might just inspire her to move forward in life as a stronger individual.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

The Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken

Many documentaries that have found success in the past decade or so aim simply to be the voice of reason. Now that might not be a terrible thing on the part of the filmmaker, but it must be taken into account simply how familiar the storytelling structures of most of them have come to be. Of the most recent of these successful documentary filmmakers is Davis Guggenheim, most of whose films from An Inconvenient Truth right down to his last He Named Me Malala has a sense of unreal deliberation to them; a sanitized performative-styled narrative that never went anywhere. Sure, the production values of his films are stunning, but while most of them claim to toe the line, they never do. They’re left down to being (at the risk of repeating myself) sanitized retellings of his various issues, be it of the ongoing environmental disaster that Leonardo DiCaprio was so passionately speaking of as a part of his speech at the 88th Academy Awards, or of a woman who braved society to become the poster-girl of women’s rights all over the world.

Black Sheep might follow a few revered styles of filmmaking—the expository, the performative, the participatory, and the observational—but director Reshel Shah Kapoor quite effortlessly manages to blend these styles, while still staunchly moving forward with a rather organic narrative out of it. Reshel is but an observer in the world she has decided to enter and become a part of for the time that she’s spent there. The very beginning of her story has her admitting, quite frankly, that she knew nothing about the transgender community than what she was told through Indian movies or what little possibly biased information she’s been able to gather on the internet. This directly opposes the confidence many directors portray while narrating their documentaries. She expresses how the widely disproportionate narrative of transgender women has affected her, and within the first quarter, her bumbling awkwardness is captured and green-lit within the narrative. This does two specific things:

  • The director makes herself vulnerable to the observing watching her journey; and
  • The audience, as a result, is effortlessly able to relate to her

Kapoor is unafraid to avoid the narrator’s-high-horse trope and makes herself an accessible individual who learns along the way, keeping at bay the template-sympathetic voice most narrators would love to go forward with. The movie, instead, chooses empathy—an emotion widely misconstrued and replaced by hollow sympathy in societies all over.

Not Friends, But Family

Not Friends, But Family

Now this sure is a documentary with many conversations that Kapoor makes with many people, but it is essentially also a feature with many intersecting plot points. Of prime importance are two: her rendezvous with Mariya, and the photo shoot with “fashionista” Kaif. These are given a justifiable priority out of all the stories of other people that also do make an appearance. Every one of these plot points gets their version of closure, but what warms your heart is just how Reshel earnestly attempts to (in these highly participatory segments) help each of them. And because this world isn’t perfect, she often fails. At a certain juncture within its runtime, viewers will notice a moment of poignance in which Kapoor tries to connect an estranged child with her family, and the results aren’t rosy because life isn’t a mainstream feature film. Broken down completely, Kapoor calls up her mother, both shocked, angry and helpless. This in itself is enough to make many viewers delirious at just how people deal with image, reputation and culture—not just in India, but all over—and how they meld together to form a sometimes disastrous obstacle for many humans with lost identities.

If there’s any possible nit that I’d have to pick, it would be with the technical inconsistencies that bring the film down. While the sound design of the film has been commendably handled, there are many junctures in time where the glitches and the inconsistencies in quality are quite audible to the layman’s ear. The film boasts of mostly well-handled cinematography, with many a risqué shot-taking attempt being part of the film for good reason (budgetary-wise and visual movement-wise). But what shines in the technical department is the flawless soundtrack that understands the emotions the movie was going for from the get go, without utilizing the standard heartstring-pullers. The score here, instead, goes for a very Santaolalla-ish (not in instrumentation, but in tone) silence, which speaks louder than any deliberate score would.

Worth it?

Essentially, Black Sheep doesn’t set out being a saint or preaching to the audience. Without directly doing those things, however, the movie—by its wee end—does and says so much more. This is certainly a documentary about the transgender community, and it might not be as vast or as solution-heavy as would otherwise be an incredibly attractive way to go. It does, however, silently scream out a rather urgent plea to its viewers: question the world, and ask it the right things. Of the many things it can say to sound relevant, it instead just tells its viewers to be themselves, find themselves “in other people”, and—most importantly—self-educate and empathize. The movie doesn’t set out to be groundbreaking; it instead simply is the documentation of a human being anyone can relate to or emotionally access. And without doing possibly any of the things documentaries on societal issues usually do, it vastly impacts (also possibly changing) the narrative of the trans community in India. THAT is the power of this low-key documentary.

This is a gem of a film, and if it’s around your vicinity, make sure you do not miss this one.

Consensus: 4.5 Stars
Extraordinary!
About the Author

Ankit Ojha

Facebook

Ambivert. Intermittent cynic. Content creator. New media enthusiast. Binge-watcher. Budding filmmaker.

Watch the trailer

We’re viral

Like UsFollow Us

Cast Reshel Shah Kapoor
Mariya Jadhav
Kaif
Director Reshel Shah Kapoor
Consensus: 4.5 Stars
Extraordinary!

What to Expect

Let Your Freak Flag Fly High

Let Your Freak Flag Fly High

It’s not always that I watch documentaries, lest I am disappointed by the sameness of its storytelling. I mostly tend to avoid these films, because of just how most of them manage to pick a template issue and go about everything by following a treatment that reeks of deja vu. Of course, there are a few that do manage to surprise me—Supersize Me, Kamal Swaroop’s The Battle for Benares, and what have you.

This is when Black Sheep quietly made its way to the festival circles, piquing my curiosity.

And it’s not that the topic covered by the director for the film—an observation of one of the transgender communities in India—is a novel one. Indian television show Satyamev Jayate has made attempts to throw light upon not just an alternate (specifically to Indian society) sexualities, but genders as well. A key highlight of one of its episodes is Indian Hindi-language actor, producer and director Aamir Khan’s conversation with Gazal Dhaliwal, and the significant distress many humans go through in gender dysphoria. That apart, there have been many documentaries (short or otherwise) that have covered the very stratosphere with varying degrees of success—none of which this cynical self was ever able to identify with, primarily due to just how weak the visual storytelling of most of these films have been.

What, then, would make me want to watch Black Sheep? I wasn’t sure, but there was something unyielding, something very organic about its trailers that made me want to know more. Was this bordering on a risky level of hype? Maybe, but still I wanted to know. Over the past few years, I’ve watched a lot of films that have disappointed me, and that have surprised me right out of my socks.

And despite my positive anticipation of the movie, I didn’t know that the movie would still fall into the latter category.

What’s it About?

Filmmaker Reshel Shah Kapoor gives her audience an outlook into her observations on the transgender community in Mumbai—some that may give her hope, some that will break her heart, and some that might just inspire her to move forward in life as a stronger individual.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

The Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken

Many documentaries that have found success in the past decade or so aim simply to be the voice of reason. Now that might not be a terrible thing on the part of the filmmaker, but it must be taken into account simply how familiar the storytelling structures of most of them have come to be. Of the most recent of these successful documentary filmmakers is Davis Guggenheim, most of whose films from An Inconvenient Truth right down to his last He Named Me Malala has a sense of unreal deliberation to them; a sanitized performative-styled narrative that never went anywhere. Sure, the production values of his films are stunning, but while most of them claim to toe the line, they never do. They’re left down to being (at the risk of repeating myself) sanitized retellings of his various issues, be it of the ongoing environmental disaster that Leonardo DiCaprio was so passionately speaking of as a part of his speech at the 88th Academy Awards, or of a woman who braved society to become the poster-girl of women’s rights all over the world.

Black Sheep might follow a few revered styles of filmmaking—the expository, the performative, the participatory, and the observational—but director Reshel Shah Kapoor quite effortlessly manages to blend these styles, while still staunchly moving forward with a rather organic narrative out of it. Reshel is but an observer in the world she has decided to enter and become a part of for the time that she’s spent there. The very beginning of her story has her admitting, quite frankly, that she knew nothing about the transgender community than what she was told through Indian movies or what little possibly biased information she’s been able to gather on the internet. This directly opposes the confidence many directors portray while narrating their documentaries. She expresses how the widely disproportionate narrative of transgender women has affected her, and within the first quarter, her bumbling awkwardness is captured and green-lit within the narrative. This does two specific things:

  • The director makes herself vulnerable to the observing watching her journey; and
  • The audience, as a result, is effortlessly able to relate to her

Kapoor is unafraid to avoid the narrator’s-high-horse trope and makes herself an accessible individual who learns along the way, keeping at bay the template-sympathetic voice most narrators would love to go forward with. The movie, instead, chooses empathy—an emotion widely misconstrued and replaced by hollow sympathy in societies all over.

Not Friends, But Family

Not Friends, But Family

Now this sure is a documentary with many conversations that Kapoor makes with many people, but it is essentially also a feature with many intersecting plot points. Of prime importance are two: her rendezvous with Mariya, and the photo shoot with “fashionista” Kaif. These are given a justifiable priority out of all the stories of other people that also do make an appearance. Every one of these plot points gets their version of closure, but what warms your heart is just how Reshel earnestly attempts to (in these highly participatory segments) help each of them. And because this world isn’t perfect, she often fails. At a certain juncture within its runtime, viewers will notice a moment of poignance in which Kapoor tries to connect an estranged child with her family, and the results aren’t rosy because life isn’t a mainstream feature film. Broken down completely, Kapoor calls up her mother, both shocked, angry and helpless. This in itself is enough to make many viewers delirious at just how people deal with image, reputation and culture—not just in India, but all over—and how they meld together to form a sometimes disastrous obstacle for many humans with lost identities.

If there’s any possible nit that I’d have to pick, it would be with the technical inconsistencies that bring the film down. While the sound design of the film has been commendably handled, there are many junctures in time where the glitches and the inconsistencies in quality are quite audible to the layman’s ear. The film boasts of mostly well-handled cinematography, with many a risqué shot-taking attempt being part of the film for good reason (budgetary-wise and visual movement-wise). But what shines in the technical department is the flawless soundtrack that understands the emotions the movie was going for from the get go, without utilizing the standard heartstring-pullers. The score here, instead, goes for a very Santaolalla-ish (not in instrumentation, but in tone) silence, which speaks louder than any deliberate score would.

Worth it?

Essentially, Black Sheep doesn’t set out being a saint or preaching to the audience. Without directly doing those things, however, the movie—by its wee end—does and says so much more. This is certainly a documentary about the transgender community, and it might not be as vast or as solution-heavy as would otherwise be an incredibly attractive way to go. It does, however, silently scream out a rather urgent plea to its viewers: question the world, and ask it the right things. Of the many things it can say to sound relevant, it instead just tells its viewers to be themselves, find themselves “in other people”, and—most importantly—self-educate and empathize. The movie doesn’t set out to be groundbreaking; it instead simply is the documentation of a human being anyone can relate to or emotionally access. And without doing possibly any of the things documentaries on societal issues usually do, it vastly impacts (also possibly changing) the narrative of the trans community in India. THAT is the power of this low-key documentary.

This is a gem of a film, and if it’s around your vicinity, make sure you do not miss this one.

About the Author

Ankit Ojha

Facebook

Ambivert. Intermittent cynic. Content creator. New media enthusiast. Binge-watcher. Budding filmmaker.

We’re viral

Like usFollow us
Cast Reshel Shah Kapoor
Mariya Jadhav
Kaif
Director Reshel Shah Kapoor
Consensus: 4.5 Stars
Extraordinary!

What to Expect

It’s not always that I watch documentaries, lest I am disappointed by the sameness of its storytelling. I mostly tend to avoid these films, because of just how most of them manage to pick a template issue and go about everything by following a treatment that reeks of deja vu. Of course, there are a few that do manage to surprise me—Supersize Me, Kamal Swaroop’s The Battle for Benares, and what have you.

This is when Black Sheep quietly made its way to the festival circles, piquing my curiosity.

And it’s not that the topic covered by the director for the film—an observation of one of the transgender communities in India—is a novel one. Indian television show Satyamev Jayate has made attempts to throw light upon not just an alternate (specifically to Indian society) sexualities, but genders as well. A key highlight of one of its episodes is Indian Hindi-language actor, producer and director Aamir Khan’s conversation with Gazal Dhaliwal, and the significant distress many humans go through in gender dysphoria. That apart, there have been many documentaries (short or otherwise) that have covered the very stratosphere with varying degrees of success—none of which this cynical self was ever able to identify with, primarily due to just how weak the visual storytelling of most of these films have been.

What, then, would make me want to watch Black Sheep? I wasn’t sure, but there was something unyielding, something very organic about its trailers that made me want to know more. Was this bordering on a risky level of hype? Maybe, but still I wanted to know. Over the past few years, I’ve watched a lot of films that have disappointed me, and that have surprised me right out of my socks.

And despite my positive anticipation of the movie, I didn’t know that the movie would still fall into the latter category.

What’s it About?

Filmmaker Reshel Shah Kapoor gives her audience an outlook into her observations on the transgender community in Mumbai—some that may give her hope, some that will break her heart, and some that might just inspire her to move forward in life as a stronger individual.

The Road Not Taken

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

The Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken

Many documentaries that have found success in the past decade or so aim simply to be the voice of reason. Now that might not be a terrible thing on the part of the filmmaker, but it must be taken into account simply how familiar the storytelling structures of most of them have come to be. Of the most recent of these successful documentary filmmakers is Davis Guggenheim, most of whose films from An Inconvenient Truth right down to his last He Named Me Malala has a sense of unreal deliberation to them; a sanitized performative-styled narrative that never went anywhere. Sure, the production values of his films are stunning, but while most of them claim to toe the line, they never do. They’re left down to being (at the risk of repeating myself) sanitized retellings of his various issues, be it of the ongoing environmental disaster that Leonardo DiCaprio was so passionately speaking of as a part of his speech at the 88th Academy Awards, or of a woman who braved society to become the poster-girl of women’s rights all over the world.

Black Sheep might follow a few revered styles of filmmaking—the expository, the performative, the participatory, and the observational—but director Reshel Shah Kapoor quite effortlessly manages to blend these styles, while still staunchly moving forward with a rather organic narrative out of it. Reshel is but an observer in the world she has decided to enter and become a part of for the time that she’s spent there. The very beginning of her story has her admitting, quite frankly, that she knew nothing about the transgender community than what she was told through Indian movies or what little possibly biased information she’s been able to gather on the internet. This directly opposes the confidence many directors portray while narrating their documentaries. She expresses how the widely disproportionate narrative of transgender women has affected her, and within the first quarter, her bumbling awkwardness is captured and green-lit within the narrative. This does two specific things:

  • The director makes herself vulnerable to the observing watching her journey; and
  • The audience, as a result, is effortlessly able to relate to her

Kapoor is unafraid to avoid the narrator’s-high-horse trope and makes herself an accessible individual who learns along the way, keeping at bay the template-sympathetic voice most narrators would love to go forward with. The movie, instead, chooses empathy—an emotion widely misconstrued and replaced by hollow sympathy in societies all over.

Not Friends, But Family

Now this sure is a documentary with many conversations that Kapoor makes with many people, but it is essentially also a feature with many intersecting plot points. Of prime importance are two: her rendezvous with Mariya, and the photo shoot with “fashionista” Kaif. These are given a justifiable priority out of all the stories of other people that also do make an appearance. Every one of these plot points gets their version of closure, but what warms your heart is just how Reshel earnestly attempts to (in these highly participatory segments) help each of them. And because this world isn’t perfect, she often fails. At a certain juncture within its runtime, viewers will notice a moment of poignance in which Kapoor tries to connect an estranged child with her family, and the results aren’t rosy because life isn’t a mainstream feature film. Broken down completely, Kapoor calls up her mother, both shocked, angry and helpless. This in itself is enough to make many viewers delirious at just how people deal with image, reputation and culture—not just in India, but all over—and how they meld together to form a sometimes disastrous obstacle for many humans with lost identities.

If there’s any possible nit that I’d have to pick, it would be with the technical inconsistencies that bring the film down. While the sound design of the film has been commendably handled, there are many junctures in time where the glitches and the inconsistencies in quality are quite audible to the layman’s ear. The film boasts of mostly well-handled cinematography, with many a risqué shot-taking attempt being part of the film for good reason (budgetary-wise and visual movement-wise). But what shines in the technical department is the flawless soundtrack that understands the emotions the movie was going for from the get go, without utilizing the standard heartstring-pullers. The score here, instead, goes for a very Santaolalla-ish (not in instrumentation, but in tone) silence, which speaks louder than any deliberate score would.

Worth it?

Essentially, Black Sheep doesn’t set out being a saint or preaching to the audience. Without directly doing those things, however, the movie—by its wee end—does and says so much more. This is certainly a documentary about the transgender community, and it might not be as vast or as solution-heavy as would otherwise be an incredibly attractive way to go. It does, however, silently scream out a rather urgent plea to its viewers: question the world, and ask it the right things. Of the many things it can say to sound relevant, it instead just tells its viewers to be themselves, find themselves “in other people”, and—most importantly—self-educate and empathize. The movie doesn’t set out to be groundbreaking; it instead simply is the documentation of a human being anyone can relate to or emotionally access. And without doing possibly any of the things documentaries on societal issues usually do, it vastly impacts (also possibly changing) the narrative of the trans community in India. THAT is the power of this low-key documentary.

This is a gem of a film, and if it’s around your vicinity, make sure you do not miss this one.

About the Author

Ankit Ojha

Facebook

Ambivert. Intermittent cynic. Content creator. New media enthusiast. Binge-watcher. Budding filmmaker.

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