"Queen Raquela" Director Olaf de Fleur- IN HIS OWN WORDS
In my first visit to Cebu City in the Philippines, I happened to be walking in one of the poor neighborhoods when I saw three girls who were at odds with the location. They were dressed more like famous movie stars than someone on an every-day stroll amongst the locals in Cebu City. This caught my attention, as anything with such contrasts often bears the light of a possible film. The girls turned out to be Transgendered men, who said they had the "soul of a woman," as they explained it to me, in layman’s terms.I went on the Internet to find interesting subjects, as I often do when I begin research for a film. I spoke with about 30 Tgirls in the Philippines. One in particular caught my attention for how smart, charming and creative she was: Raquela Rios, whose birth name is Earvin. Very quickly, I established a film crew in Cebu City (Philippines) near to where she lived and started filming her life. As a filmmaker I had finished four feature docs in three years, and initially assumed I was moving towards the fifth with "Raquela." I soon realized that I was not in the least bit interested in copying so many others who create sob stories about how hard life is for Tgirls. The fascinating thing was that Raquela, like many of her ilk, was chasing an impossible dream. Although they are men in the biological sense, their deepest wish is to find a heterosexual man to marry. That conundrum seemed like a snake eating its tail.
Slightly stranded but undeterred, I knew I did not want to make a documentary but I didn't have the kind of funding it takes to create a standard narrative feature. After mulling it over for a couple of weeks, I simply decided to make up my own genre, calling it a "visionmentary." I would allow myself to do anything I wanted to do, in order to tell a story as vividly as possible. Raquela would act partly as herself, adding narrative elements as her dream began to take shape under our influence. I brought in actors, (some were amateurs), and added dramatic content as the story began to take on a life of its own. I cast our production designer as a security guard; he had fun flirting with Raquela on camera. I was acquainted with an Austrian hotel owner in Cebu who always had a life-long dream of acting, and cast him as Johnny K., the porn photographer. My own grandmother was also suitably cast as an extra. Filling in the comedic edges of my emerging story was my film mentor in Iceland, who was cast as an ill-tempered boss. Last but not least, I cast my very good friend and filmmaker Stefan Schaefer as the evil Michael, the Internet Pimp who would play a key role in the film regarding Raquela's destiny. I had done extensive research on the lives of Tgirls in the Philippines, and many of the girls’ stories contained common threads of cautionary tales, involving salvation by one of two methods. First, they engage in the sporting life, only to realize that they can get paid for doing the very thing they love. As sex workers, they play Russian roulette with their lives, fully embracing each lover with unprotected vulnerability. A few "lucky" ones would dive straight into the arms of Internet porn. Even fewer are lucky enough to garner the genuine interest of a rich Westerner. Most are invited to Europe or America for a few days visit before they are unceremoniously dumped back into the street. Outsiders might take a dim view of their lottery odds against achieving a happy ending. Most startling to me was that the "girls" were always very cheerful and full of joy, blissfully unaware that they are traveling towards eventual self-destruction. Unlike their closeted cousins, they truly enjoyed life and were deeply entranced by the idea that they were being true to themselves, living authentically. I wrote individuals scenes for a screenplay "on the fly" during production, in order to create an amalgam of the most interesting story threads into a cohesive film that featured Raquela. I knew I wanted to epitomize her and her sisters in the Philippines, not as the subject of a cautionary tale, but a hopeful quest.
As I continued to write the story, Raquela began as the embodiment of every cautionary tale about Tgirls who are bottom feeders and street prostitutes. As she hastens towards deliverance, she differentiates herself in two ways: she never gives up trying to find a way out, and manages to side step the black hole of addiction. With minimal skill and little in the way of education, she manages to find her way into a plum “Big Brother” type of spot, which saves her from the carnage of the street. In the same way that a social life is a rude interruption of a student’s classes, Raquela gets creative with her showers and strip sessions. It seems there is not an endeavor on earth in which a person cannot strive to achieve excellence. Although she gains popularity and even starts to garner interest from the kinds of suitors she craves, she quietly works at building upon her dreams, going out of her way to communicate with all parties. She never passes up any chance to travel abroad to seek her prince and her dreams. In real life, Raquela is not a prostitute, though she has "the occasional flirt-and-meet with Westerners in Cebu City." The best thing I discovered is that she’s a great little actress; she’s very talented and full of ideas. The fact that she was a Tgirl was almost a side benefit; who better to play the part? She once told me that she had often dreamt of being the "Queen of Spain," so I wrote a little fairy-tale for her, called "The Amazing Truth about Queen Raquela." I added it to the film as a children’s story which fits her destiny and encompasses her dilemma; society has cornered her, objectifying her and her sisters to a point of violence. Educational opportunities and jobs are not offered to those in her milieu; only the porn industry comes knocking at their doors.
I fell in love with Raquela and the story she represented. Coming into the world with so many odds against her encouraged me to do the best film possible as one human to another. I was more and more convinced not to make a documentary, but wanted to keep the feelings engendered as authentic as possible. So, I decided to use the "fly on a wall" filming method, keeping a distance from the actors and using talking heads as little as possible. I created three set-up methods for every scene, either employing improv, extensive rehearsal or a collaborative combination, i.e., placing the actors in a scripted situation and allowing the scene to evolve into something entirely new. Therefore the "screenplay" was very loose and contained a myriad of outcomes for each scene. The main thing was to trust my "gut" feelings and just breathe with the story. I decided not to follow the rules about aesthetics or methods I had learned.
Here’s an example of the way I’d work: I asked our production designer to put on a security guards jacket to see if he could act in a scene where the audience learns that Raquela quit school and is not doing drugs. He was to play her friend, the security guard. I wanted the audience to "see it" rather than get the information from a talking head. Raquela had a car accident, which put her on crutches for few weeks. Instead of telling the audience about it, I wanted to see it. So, I found a stunt man in the Philippines who was willing to perform a re-creation of the accident. The stuntman was none other than Mike Stone, who was a Kung-Fu legend, winner of 92 competitions during the 1970’s. Allegedly, he was well acquainted with Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris, and performed many stunts for their films. On few occasions I'd use real life scenarios in real time, most notably when Raquela has an HIV test. This was very emotional for everybody in the film, but the strain was mostly on Raquela herself, who had to admit that she lived a dangerous lifestyle by not using condoms. This was the only scene where we'd put Raquela in such a position, but she wanted to do it. It led to one of the film’s most powerful on-screen moments.