All language subtitles for Orlando.My.Political.Biography.2023.WEB-DL.1080p.Dream

Someone once asked me:

"Why don't you write your biography?"

I replied: "Because fucking Virginia Woolf
wrote my biography in 1928."

I'm sorry I said
"fucking" Virginia Woolf.

I said it
with tenderness and admiration

because your writing seemed
impossible to surpass.

But also,

I say it with rage
because you represented us trans people

as aristocrats in colonial England,

who, one fine day, wake up
in a woman's body.

You didn't know, perhaps,
this was not how one became trans.

It was much more difficult.

We risk our lives every time.

And I wanted to write to tell you
I am one of your Orlandos.

I am alive.
I came out of your fiction.

The contemporary world
is full of Orlandos.

ORLANDO, WHERE ARE YOU?

We're changing
the course of history.

HAVE YOU SEEN ORLANDO?

FROM LOVE THEY HAD SUFFERED
THE TORTURES OF THE DAMNED

So I decided to write
a letter to you,

who had written thousands of letters
and received thousands more.

I might as well write you a letter

now you are,
in the organic sense, dead,

even though, in inorganic terms,

you have never been
as alive as now.

It's one of the things
I've learned from reading you:

life begins before we are born
and, of course, ends long after we die.

So, just as you wrote my biography
before I was born,

I decided to send you a letter
after your death.

Dear Virginia,

I'm writing to you
as I think I'm your Orlando.

We should meet.

I feel I'm changing fast,
So don't delay.

I'd like to show you
all my metamorphoses and crash tests.

I'm Janis Sahraoui.

In this film I'll be
Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

I love my name.

It is very important to me and...

My mother gave it to me,
I'm very attached to her.

I lost my mother
when I was a child, at 7.

And it's something I really want to keep
from her. It's something that's...

important to me,
because I know she chose my name.

I like the way it sounds.

There is something very musical
and even very non-binary, in fact.

I'm Oscar Rosza Miller.

In this film I'll be
Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

Orlando,was a name friends wanted
to give me when I started

my gender transition.

I didn't feel capable
of bearing this name.

Perhaps I was held back by the
aristocratic semblance of the character,

by the English thickness of his blood,
by his pale face and blond curls...

Nothing could be further
from the existence

of the son of a garage owner
and a seamstress

in an anonymous town in the north
of Spain than the life of Orlando,

inspired by your lover
Vita Sackville-West.

Maybe that's why I called myself
Paul and not Orlando.

Would you tell me the story
of Orlando by Virginia Woolf?

Orlando is a young boy, a teenager,

and at the end of the book,

it's a woman in her thirties.

Well, this person changes bodies
in the middle of the book.

Oh, yeah?

We don't know
how long this person will live

because we go through centuries
during the book,

while Orlando is only 30.

It's inspired
by a person who really existed.

Oh, OK.

The girlfriend
of the chick who wrote it.

Turn your face.

- You're a bit of an Orlando.
- Yeah!

You too!

We all have a bit of Orlando in us.

This is the child Orlando.

Now I define myself
as a non-binary person,

but I consider myself changing.

Their style was not similar
to that of men of letters of their time,

nor to that of the women.

There can be no doubt
about my sex...

though the fashion of my time
disguises it.

The clothes, my whole corporality is very
important as the way I want to be seen...

it's really not like a man
or a woman.

Around the fact
that Orlando is transitioning,

it's not stigmatized in the book...

It's beautiful to see it
like that because...

Actually, this is not the point...
You just let it flow.

It's just a person
who unfolds their life.

To have written this at that time,

it's incredible.

And it's also an extremely feminist book.

It's also a big "fuck you"
to the patriarchy!

He never loses, or she never loses,

the connection to nature
and their love for...

for trees. There's a real sensitivity.

I took my first hormones in a park.
I was in a park in Paris

and I sat down and meditated.

and I was surrounded by nature
next to my house

and it felt good. I said to myself

that I wanted this moment
to be important.

This was the first image
I wanted to keep,

so it's funny to be here.

I love to feel...

beneath all this summer transiency,
the earth's spine beneath me.

I lean against it

for the hard root of the oak trée
is that to me;

it is the back of a great horse
that I ride...

Or the deck of a tumbling ship -

it is anything indeed hard,

for I feel the need of something
which I could attach my floating heart to.

This heart that tugs at my side:

this heart
filled with spiced, amorous gales

every evening

about this time

when I walk out.

I tie it to the oak tree...

and as I lay here,

gradually the flutter
in and about me stills itself;

the little leaves hang.

The deer stops;

the pale summer clouds stay;

my limbs grow heavy
on the ground,

and I lay so still

that by degrees the deer steps nearer
and the rooks wheel round me

and the swallows dip and circle
and the dragonflies shoot past,

as if all the fertility and amorous
activity of a summer's evening

weaves its web about my body.

My taste is broad, I love flowers,

simple flowers,
the wild have a fascination for me.

I love solitary places,

vast views,

and the charm of feeling
for ever and ever and ever alone.

When I was a child,

I remember
never being able to choose

and I think
that feeling stayed with me.

I don't want to choose
one thing or another,

I want to be able to make
an explosive mix.

That's always been the case.
I think that this thing

that my parents call "phases”,
or what I like to call

passages of my life, are epochs.

Life is not at all like a biography.

It is not a series of episodes
or sentimental adventures

or descriptive scenes

or even the servitude of daily existence.

But it consists
in the metamorphosis of oneself,

letting oneself be transformed by time,

becoming not only other,
but others.

In your novel,
at certain moments in the story,

driven by extreme suffering,

Orlando sleeps for a week,

a month, a year...

That is how Orlando
crosses the centuries.

I remember reading your novel

before I knew
that sex change really existed,

or at least before I met someone
who had gone, through it

when I was 14 or 15.

In your book, Orlando’s sex change
happens in his sleep.

I thought that if it happened to Orlando,
maybe it could also happen to me.

Then sleep became for me
the magical realm in which

the gender transition took place.

Perhaps this explains
why I sleep so much and so well.

That's why nights have become
silent waiting rooms

in which, immersed in my thoughts,
I wait for the change to take place.

I imagined the beds as a dreamlike,
painless operating table

where my lying body

was re-coded.

I believed
sleep could act on the body

like a chemical process
acts on an element.

I thought sleep was like freezing,
or like evaporation:

a process that induces a change in form
but not in meaning.

There are parts of Orlando's life,
dear Virginia, that you forgot to tell.

So I have to tell you about them
if I am to make their biography,

that is to say, my biography.

You write about the meeting
of Orlando and Queen Elizabeth

as a confrontation between Orlando's
free, poetic and still childish spirit

and the violence of the imperial power.

But you forgot to mention
a second, equally important confrontation.

From the 19th century on, those who,
like Orlando, cross gender boundaries,

are confronted
with the power of psychiatry.

Look at your Orlandos...
They did not live

as aristocrats or poets,

they were reduced
to being patients of psychiatry.

You also knew a lot about psychiatry.

You were like us, asylum fodder.

Not as a trans person, or as a lesbian
(you were in the closet about that)

but as a great melancholic.

Look, that one is me.

I too ended up in a psychiatrist's office
for the first time at 14,

when my parents realized that I was...
They used to say

"too masculine a woman".

Then I had to go back again when I wanted
to get a legal gender change.

That's what you didn't say.

Neither in "Orlando”
nor in "A Room of One's Own".

You were one of us.

Orlando.

Orlando Kristin, please.

Yes, that's me.

I'm Liz Kristin.

In this film I'll be
Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

I'm Frédéric Pierrot. In this film
I'll be Dr. Queen, a psychiatrist.

Please sit down.

Before we start,
I must inform you that there will be

an additional fee of 80 euros,

compared to the rates
covered by the social security.

No checks or credit cards.

Yes, I know.

Very well.

So, you were sent by your mother.

According to her, you persist

in dressing as a girl and talking
about yourself in the feminine.

Yes, I had a fight with her.

The question I ask myself is:

How and for what reason
did you believe yourself...

How can I put it?

...authorized

to wear a skirt as a young man?

I am not a man.

So you're a woman?

I wouldn't exactly say that either.

But what is really your sex?

There's no doubt about my sex

though the fashion of my time
disguises it.

Would you say
your father is masculine?

Yes, very masculine.

He went on the crusades
and brought back a lot of Moorish heads.

Indeed.

So he is not the problem,
you do not identify with him?

No.

So you have a female identification.

You think... you feel

confined,

trapped, locked up
in your male body, right?

What an obsession with the binary.
No, I am...

a living body
trapped in a normative regime.

Sorry. I don't understand.

I will try to ask you
a more direct question.

Do you hate your sexual organs,
for example, your penis?

No, I have a female penis

and I have no problem with that.

A female penis...?

Interesting...

But you must be talking about a fantasy,
not a biological reality.

Is your sperm female?

Of course.

Organs and body fluids
are neither male nor female.

The discourse of sexual binarism
is an invention of modernity.

Well, do you often have
these kinds of ideas, or thoughts?

When reading poetry...

I think I suffer from...

literature-sickness.

Poetry...?

Fascinating.

Well, we'll look at all that in detail.
Follow me.

Does anyone want one?

I do.

Yes, I do.
I'm waiting for a prescription.

So be careful what you say to him,

because Dr. Queen is very strict.

If you tell him
you're non-binary,

he'll send you home
with a kick in the ass

and no pills.

You have to tell him

that you hate your genitals

and you want to be a straight woman.

But I don't!

- Do you want your pills or not?
- Yes.

So shut your mouth
and act like a good girl.

You must be freaking out, Virginia,

seeing your Orlandos
exchanging hormones.

You know, in the 20th century,
just after you died,

horrfiones started to be marketed

by the pharmacological industry,
but not just for us

trans people,
but mostly for the birth control pill.

The hormones for trans women and
those for the pill are exactly the same.

The only difference is
that, for cis heterosexual women,

the prescription is automatic,

whereas, for trans women,
it depends on a psychiatric diagnosis.

Anyone want some 17?

Well, yeah, I do.

I've waited 2 months
for my prescription.

- Shall I give you an injection?
- Yeah.

- A little 1507
- Yeah.

OK...

Drop your pants, my little darling.

OK?

Here goes...

Look, bitch, this little shit

Do you want to know what's in it?

Your Liberation!

Don't let Freud, don't let Lacan

Get in your dreams and your mind fuck

Who owns your history?

God? The state? Psychiatry? The law?

The corporations?

Anyone but you!

It's time to bite

You might be synthetic, but not apologetic

You are not the doctor's bitch

You might be synthetic, but not apologetic

You are not the doctor's bitch

Their categories are pathetic

You are much more poetic

Prosthetic but magnetic

You are not the doctor's bitch

Look, Virginia

What we have become!

Do you want to come with us?

Pharmacoliberation

They say you are dysphoric

But it's just metaphoric

They protect their privileges

They are scared of beauty

I am your Orlando, Virginia

Do you really think
that I could ever, ever live like this?

Pharmacoliberation

Faced with the task
of telling my biography,

I find myself in the position you were in
when you wanted to do Orlando's biography

How to film the biography
of a trans person today?

Or to put it another way,
how to construct an Orlandoesque life,

a life of a gender poet in the midst
of a binary and normative society?

I agree with you,
fiction is not opposed to truth,

and every individual life
is a collective history.

I'm Ruben Rizza. In this film
I'll be Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

The Great Frost was the most severe
that has ever visited these islands.

Birds froze in mid-air
and fell like stones to the ground.

The mortality among sheep
and cattle was enormous.

Corpses froze
and could not be drawn from the sheets.

But while the country people
suffered the extremity of want,

and all trade was at a standstill,

London enjoyed a carnival
of the utmost brilliancy.

Your Orlando, Virginia, is a book
about the metamorphosis of subjectivity,

not only about sex change.

The first revolutionary metamorphosis
is poetry,

the possibility of changing
the names of all things,

including the proper name.

The second and most profound
metamorphosis is love.

That's why Orlando falls in love
with the arrival of the Great Frost

and the transformation
of the state of water,

the most essential of the elements,
into ice.

Your book was also a love letter to Vita,
who was your lover for some months.

When you met her,
she was a successful writer,

and you, too experimental
were editor.

For you, she was elusive.

Rlch heiress
of an aristocratic lineage

and marred woman
with multiple lesbian adventures,

she would break your girly heart.

Poetic justice Orlando would become
your first great literary success

and a scandalous book
that Vita's family would try to ban.

At night, the carnival
was at its merriest.

The moon and stars blazed
with the hard fixity of diamonds,

and to the fine music
of flute and trumpet,

the courtiers danced.

I had just brought my feet together
when I beheld, coming from the pavilion

of the Muscovite Embassy,

a figure,
which, whether boy's or woman's,

for the loose tunic and Russian trousers
disguised the sex,

filled me with the highest curiosity.

The person, whatever the sex,
was of medium height,

very slenderly fashioned
and dressed in oyster-coloured velvet,

trimmed with unfamiliar green fur.

When the boy,
for-alas, a boy it must be

no woman could skate
with such speed and vigour

swept almost on tiptoe past me,

I was ready
to tear my hair with vexation.

If the stranger was a man,
all embraces were out of the question.

They came closer.

Legs, hands, carriage were a boy's,

but no boy ever had a mouth like that;

no boy had such a chest;

no boy had eyes which looked

as if fished from the seabed.

Finally, coming to a stop
and sweeping a curtsey

with the utmost grace to the King,
who was shuffling past, they stopped.

They were not a handsbreadth off.

I contemplated them, I trembled,

I was hot, then cold,

I burned to leap
in the burning breaths of the summer,

to crush acorns,
to embrace chains and paddles.

I decided to name him or her
Sasha

after a white fox I had as a child.

I'm Castiel Emery. In this film

I'll be Sasha
from Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

Growing up, I had a lot of dysphoria...
But I wasn't sure if it was

gender dysphoria or if it was
just that I didn't like my body,

like most teenagers.

I was 7 years old.

As a child, I didn't really understand,
because I think I wasn't mature enough

to comprehend
what was happening to me.

But I was always in the in-between,
whether it was in my clothes,

my toys, my friendships, everything,

I was always in-between.
Even I felt in-between because

I was told "You're a girl”,
so I thought "I'm a girl”...

but I thought: "I'm not totally a girl
but I don't know what else."

No-one ever said to me:
"Yes, you have gender dysphoria,

I'm diagnosing you
as transgender, transsexual.”

On the contrary,
I've had shrinks tell me:

"No, it's just a phase, you're a woman,
I know that."

I started to feel bad about myself,

I couldn't look at myself in the mirror,
I couldn't stand myself.

I was very angry,
but we didn't know why.

So, I saw several specialists,
psychologists, psychiatrists.

At first, they told me it was because
of my weight. I was an overweight child.

They said: "Hide the cookies,
your child will get better."

I've been trying
to- take hormones since 2017

and I still can't. I tried to go
through the public health sector.

But they thought
I was too feminine in my clothing style,

because I wear jewelry,
I'm not a man.

I started the puberty blocker treatment
when I was 11

because I started my female puberty,
and it was really painful

because I was seeing my body change,
like absolutely... I wanted the opposite.

I saw I was getting breasts and hips
and I didn't want that.

So I was put on a hormone blocker
treatment for 3 years.

I started testosterone
in July, so 8 months ago.

The top surgery really liberated me.

It let me play more
with my clothing style,

and with my way of being, in fact.

It opened something up.

I think the hormones will have
exactly the same effect.

So I think it'll have
even more of an effect.

I was so happy!

It was everything I wanted for 4-5 years.
I dreamed of it every night.

At the beginning of my transition,
I had the impression

that I had to prove my masculinity,

so I did everything
to be extremely male:

with very dark clothes,
I walked in a caricatured way,

rolling my shoulders like that,

I spoke with a very deep voice,

I had an angry look

to have a very masculine appearance.

And in fact, after about a year -
I did it for a year -

I realized
it was ridiculous because...

masculinity can come
in many different forms.

I still have a long way to go
because I'm still young, I'm only 15,

but it's true that I've already had
a great journey with masculinity.

I still have dysphoria
about other things...

Yes! But top surgery has helped me
so much. Sometimes I see I don't feel well

and I just remember
that I had top surgery,

I run a hand over my chest or see myself
in a T-shirt, it changes everything.

Today I define myself as a trans boy
and not just as a boy.

It's true that a lot of people ask me:

"Why don't you just say
you're a boy?"

But when I just present myself as a boy,
I erase all that I lived

as a trans person and...
it deletes a part of my history,

so I prefer to present myself
as a trans boy.

I feel that, in our society today,
there is a lot of emphasis on love...

on romantic love,
for a couple two people, exclusivity,

leading to a future
where you live together, with children,

and that's not at all what attracts me.

It was with a person called Sasha

who I met in a demonstration.

And it's true that it was weird because...

when I was younger,

a year or two ago,

everything to do with the other
and above all, with love...

I had the impression that as long as
I hadn't finished my transition,

and wasn't at ease with myself,

It wasn't a good idea
to want to be with someone else...

because I wouldn't be mature enough
within myself

and I wouldn't have the right
to do that. But I totally do.

And on top of that,
Sasha, who is also a trans boy,

made me... feel understood very quickly,

I felt supported very quickly
by a person I didn't know.

It was one of the first times.

3 girls were hitting on me -
Clorinda, Favilla, and Euphrosyne -

all very feminine,
very binary, very straight...

which I'm not.

All would have made perfect wives
for the nobleman I was supposed to be,

but I wasn't interested in them.

Lawyers were already doing
marriage contracts

with Lady Margaret,
then came the Great Frost.

Like Orlando, I too fell in love
for the first time on a snowy day.

I kissed a girl in the cold,

the warmth of her mouth entered mine.

I have never loved anyone
like I love you.

You are snow,

cream,

marble,

cherries,

you are alabaster,

golden wire

and none of these.

You are an olive tree
and a fox in the snow,

you are a melon, a pine cone,

you are spring,

you are an emerald,

you are the waves of the sea
seen from a clifftop,

you are the sun on a green hill
which is yet clouded.

But you noticed
that I am neither a boy nor a girl.

Yes.

You're like nothing I've ever met before

and that's why I love you.

You know that...

if I stay here

I'll have to marry Lady Margaret,

so...

let's leave together.

you run away with me?

Yes, yes.

I'll come to meet you
tomorrow at midnight.

It will be the day of my life.

Long before midnight,

I was already waiting...

listening for the slightest step,

speculating on every sound.

I was waiting for Sasha to come alone
in her cloak and trousers,

Booted like a man.

Suddenly I was struck in the face
by a blow, soft, yet heavy,

on the side of my cheek.

So tense was my expectation that I jumped
and put my hand to my sword.

The blow was repeated a dozen times
on forehead and cheek.

The dry frost had lasted so long

that it took me a minute to realize
they were raindrops.

At first, they fell slowly,

deliberately,

one by one.

But soon the six drops became sixty;

then six hundred;

then ran themselves together
in a steady spout of water.

It was as if
the hard and consolidated sky

poured itself forth
in one profuse fountain.

I knew then
that Sasha was not coming.

When the dawn broke,

a sight of the most extraordinary nature
met my eyes.

Where, for three months,
there had been solid ice

of such thickness
that it seemed permanent as stone

and on this pavement
a whole gay city rose.

There was now a race
of turbulent yellow waters.

The river had gained its freedom
in the night.

All was riot and confusion.

The river, strewn with icebergs,

was melting.

In the summer that followed
that winter famous for its disasters,

for the frost,
the floods, the arrival of viruses,

the death of thousands of creatures,
and the collapse of Orlando's hopes,

for they were exiled from Court,

held in deep disgrace
by the greatest names of their time.

In that summer, therefore, Orlando retired
to their knightly house in the country

and lived there in total solitude.

Orlando was not only suffering
from their breakup with Sasha,

but also from the solitude, shame,

and rejection
caused by their difference.

Orlando understood
that their non-binary condition

could not be explained
by the family heritage.

He had to go down into the crypt

where, at the bottom of the coffins,
piled up one on top of the other,

generations of unknown and forgotten
ancestors lay side by side.

They found a strange charm
in the thoughts of death and corruption.

During these melancholic moments,

Orlando saw the skull
as an operator of the mutation.

To look at oneself in a skull
as in a mirror is

to make a deep portrait of oneself

that takes into account the temporal and
almost geological dimension of each life.

The skull is the universal mask.

A To write my biography, Virginia,

is also to descend with Orlando
into darkness,

where there are
no portraits or witnesses,

to enter the realm of the dead.

To understand that we are
the heirs of an erased history.

It is to learn to honor the dead,

the faceless ones who preceded us.

The Orlandos who have succumbed

to institutional, familiar,
economic, and social violence

are like skeletons lost in the archive.

You too, Virginia, have experienced
violence and depression.

As a child
who was raped by your brother.

As a woman, perhaps non-binary,
who loved other women but could

not publicly assert herself
as a lesbian,

and then as an adult,
fragile and institutionalized

by early 20th century psychiatry.

On March 28, 1941,

terrified by your own
depressive episodes,

by the death of your nephew
in the Spanish Civil War,

and by the fear of war
coming to England,

you filled your pockets with stones

and went into the Ouse River
next to your house.

Your body was not found
until April 15.

Who will tell our history?

It is necessary to survive violence
in order to tell our history.

It is necessary to tell our history
in order to survive violence.

But contrary to what you imagined,
Virginia,

Orlando was not alone.

Who's there?

Is anyone there?

I'm Elios Levy.

In this film I'll be
Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

Orlando?

I was waiting for you!

I'm Julia.

In this film I'll be
Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

Sunk for a long time in profound thoughts

as to the value of obscurity...

and the delight of having no name...

but being like a wave which returns

to the deep body of the sea;

thinking how obscurity

rids the mind of the irk

of spite and envy;

how it sets running in the veins the free
waters of generosity and magnanimity;

and allows giving and taking
without thanks offered or praise given;

which must have been the way
all great gender poets lived.

Coccinelle or Marsha P. Johnson
built their bodies and their lives

like others built cathedrals.

For years, I knew

that I was something else,

a little bit Orlando...
but I didn't have the words yet.

I was treated by medicine, but...

the doctors were hardly wiser
than they are now.

They prescribed

rest and exercise,

starvation and nourishment.

They ordered me to...

lie in bed all day

and ride 40 miles

between lunch and dinner.

They put me on sedatives and irritants,

Prozac and newt's slobber
on rising,

Diazepam and draughts of peacock's gall
on going to bed.

Happily,

I was of a strong build,

but neither psychology nor medicine
could cure me.

Only reading
and affirming my life drive

could cure me.

I had my first

testosterone shot last Saturday

after we met.

But a little dose to see

because I don't think
I want to pass for a cis guy

and I think that...

passing for a trans person
would be fine.

At the same time...

it's still...

This freedom scares me.

In the book, he talks

about having to lose
these masculine clothes will be difficult,

he's going to live... she's going to live

from now on
as a woman with women's clothes

and it's going to be complicated

to live in a patriarchal society.

That stuck with me.

I say to myself that...

whether you're a man,
non-binary, woman or trans,

you can identify with these words.
They'll remain forever modern.

It's very scary
that we probably have

privileges to lose.

In me, were feelings
of melancholy and indolence...

ardor and passion for solitude...

Before being who I am now,
I went through very depressive passages.

I even thought about death.

I have a rage that I want to share,

an inner rage,

and I see so many friends around me

who don't feel...

free.

Even if I am angry, sometimes,

I'm also very happy to share it
because it is a joy,

a joy to be able to tell your friends,
to be able to say who you are...

and above all...

not to be afraid, even if it is difficult.

Years passed, even if Orlando
wanted to hide in their castle,

they were besieged
by hate messages on their accounts.

In order to escape the court life
and the digital harassment,

they asked King Charles to send them
as far away as possible.

Here hides

Ambition,

the harridan,

Hatred,

the witch,

and Desire of Fame,

the strumpet.

Weapon Store of the East Station

Hello.

I'm Orlando.

I was appointed extraordinary ambassador
in Constantinople by King Charles.

It seems I can find
the attributes of masculinity here.

I have a few things to offer you.

There you are.

- Anything else?
- Of course.

- Still not?
- No.

Orlando began to understand
what being a man

in a patriarchal society meant:

not just having the right
to use violence,

but rather having
the obligation to do so.

I'll take it.

On the other hand
in a patriarchal society,

becoming a woman
means to be disarmed.

Hello.

- I'm just looking, thanks.
- Go ahead.

Reading a manuscript of "Orlando”
in the New York Public Library,

I learn that you, Virginia, had included
yourself in your book as a character,

Volumia Fox.

I'd like to buy this fox.

Sorry, it's not for sale.

What if I trade it for this?

Is it authentic?
From the 18th century?

1741, to be precise.

- With pleasure.
- OK?

Then you removed that part,

and your character disappeared.

In all stories
there are hidden characters

and ghosts that remain unseen.

I like your pseudonym, Volumia Fox.

It's a really great drag queen name.

Then, one summer day,
Orlando finally arrived in Constantinople.

Where historians would have liked to solve
the mystery of their transition,

they found a hole in the manuscript.

In short, we have done our best
to compose a meager summary

from the blackened fragments
that remain.

But often we have found it necessary
to speculate, to suppose,

even to have recourse
to the imagination.

Constantinople will be for Orlando

the magical place of all discoveries.

But the most important thing
is that you, Virginia,

have decided that Orlando's transition
will take place here.

As soon as they arrived, Orlando was
perfumed, curled and "anointed"

according to the custom,

their body transformed
into a representative of imperial power.

Most importantly, their face was whitened.

In the mid-17th century, before the
concept of race was invented in the West,

colonial governors invented
whiteness through makeup

to differentiate between the skin
of the dominant and of the subaltern.

Why does gender change
take place in the colony?

You, Virginia,
knew this colonial trip well:

your mother, Julia Jackson, was born
in Calcutta into a family of doctors

working for the East India Company.

And your husband, Leonard Woolf,

had been a cadet,
then an administrative officer

for the British Empire in Ceylon.

Perhaps that's why you didn't imagine
an Orlando who perceives the colonial city

as a totally foreign place,
but rather as a mirror place

where they understand
their misbegotten condition.

I don't think the people of these lands
I'm supposed to govern

are different from me.

I wonder whether, in the Crusades,

one of my ancestors had taken up
with a Circassian peasant woman.

Maybe he obtained her sexual favors
in exchange for something.

Maybe he forced her.

I think it possible.

I am not white.

I am the child of this colonial journey
and of this rape.

Orlando’s mutation
does not start with a sex change.

There are four metamorphoses.

The first two are poetry and love.

The third one,
induced by the exile from his own culture,

is the process of creolization.

Only after that,
the fourth metamorphosis takes place.

Orlando is ready for their gender change.

I'm Amir Baylly. In this film
I'll be Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

After 2 years as ambassador,
Charles gave me the highest peerage

The envious said it was because
I had the finest legs in England.

Well, I think it was my merits,
not my legs.

My journey to Constantinople

was, at first, full of apprehension.

I was afraid I'd lose everything:

especially my family,

not really my friends,
more the world in general.

And it turned out a lot better
than expected, in the end.

I grew up with just my mother,
who's French.

My father is Rwandan.

So I didn't have any contact
with that side of the family

before I was 17 or 18.

They still knew me
before I transitioned.

But when I had to tell them
what I was going to do,

they took it very well.

It tends to surprise people

because you imagine
that African families

or non-Western families
as being more closed-minded

about issues
such as gender and sexuality.

But it's not the case. It's a stereotype
and it depends on the people.

I started at a pretty young age.

I'm 23, so I started when I was 20.

It wasn't really a break
with the person I was before.

It was more of a continuation

of who I am
and who I'd become.

People spread rumors about me.

Shepherds,
bringing their goats to market;

said they'd seen me praying
on a mountain top.

But I was actually
just reciting a poem aloud

because I like to chant
when I'm alone.

I've become the idol of many women..

and certain men.

Some fall in love
without having spoken to me or seen me.

When they think of me, they imagine
a noble gentleman in silk stockings

as the sun sets over Constantinople.

But in fact,

I spent most of my time alone.

Orlando spent their days
wandering and reading,

accompanied by their beloved dog.

Everyone thought they were the same,
but somewhere inside them,

the metamorphosis had already begun.

One day, Duke Orlando,
as we must call them from now on,

was found, by their secretaries
and their dog, deeply asleep.

At first, nothing was suspected,
because the evening had been very tiring.

But the next day,

Orlando was still sleeping.

And so the doctors were called.

Is he alive?

He's alive, he's alive!

We are Pierre and Gilles.

In this film we'll be
Orlando's doctors.

On the seventh day
of this lethargy,

the first shot
of a bloody insurrection broke out.

The people were rising
against the sultan.

The insurgents put
all the foreigners to the sword.

But thinking that Orlando was dead,
they abandoned them in their palace.

A normative biographer would have wanted
to write the end word on the screen.

Saying Orlando died,
they put them in the ground.

But this is not how things happened.

3 goddesses came out
of the mist of the night

and rescued Orlando from death.

I'm Tristana. In this film
I'll be the goddess of hormones.

And I'm Le Filip. In this film
I'll be the goddess of gender fucking.

And I'm Miss Drinks. In this film
I'll be the goddess of insurrection.

Truth, truth, truth!

Orlando had become a woman.
No need to deny it.

But for the rest,
they remained the same Orlando.

They might have changed sex
and destiny.

But not personality.

It seems that the metamorphosis
was painless and perfect.

Many scientists, convinced
that a change of sex would be unnatural,

have gone to great lengths
to prove:

1. that Orlando
had always been a woman;

2. that Orlando
had never stopped being a man.

Let biologists and psychologists
argue unnecessarily.

As for us, the facts are enough.

Orlando had changed gender, sex,
and soon sexuality.

I beg the audience to remember
that Orlando was like a child

who comes into possession
of a garden or a toy cabinet.

Their reasoning was not that of women

who were assigned
the female gender at birth

and who perceive the rituals
of patriarchal oppression as natural.

With some of the guineas
left from the sale of a pearl

and with money made from doing
stripteases via webcam in Turkey,

I bought a complete outfit of clothes
women wore then,

and it was in the dress
of a young Englishwoman of rank

that I prepared to return to the castle.

The first year of my transition was one
of the most beautiful periods of my life.

I remember a time,
between January and June,

when, after increasing my hormone dosage
every 17 days to 250 milligrams,

it was still not possible
for me or others

to know whether my face
was female or male.

Sometimes, as I walked
through the streets of New York,

I would see my reflection
in a shop window

and I would see
how the female face was decomposing

without the male face
having yet appeared.

Hormones had begun to undo

one mask of me, but it had not
yet been replaced by another.

I called this period
the genderless time.

This was an uncertain time,

but it was also light.

It was as if all relationships
of ownership, inheritance, guilt, and debt

had disappeared with sexual difference.

As the hormonal changes sculpted my bod»
like a chemical chisel working from within

and I began to use my new name,

I felt how reality
metamorphosed around me.

It wasn't just me
who was changing.

My change was part
of a planetary mutation.

You, Virginia, you knew it.

Orlando's enjoyment of their transition

comes from the decision
to be open to experimentation.

To make their life a work of art.

Now...

I'm a woman.

Never have I seen my skin

look so good.

However...

could I jump overboard...

and swim in this garment?

We'll start again, we'll start again.

- More trashy.
- OK.

- From the beginning?
- Yes.

"Now, I'm a woman." See?

Now, I'm a woman.

After Paul's "Action”, I'll give a sign
so you can start talking.

- OK.
- Thanks.

Still rolling.

When you're ready, Paul...

Action!

Orlando would also discover

that there were 1,000 different ways
to be a woman.

Femininity was not an essence,
but rather a practice of becoming.

Lord...

I can't respect men's opinion
of women anymore.

[t is monstrous.

I can't even eat by myself.

I understood the problem when Captain

Nicholas Benedict Bartolus,

a sea-captain of distinguished aspect,

offered me a slice of corned beef
and said:

A little of the fat, Ma'm?

Let me cut you the tiniest little slice
the size of your fingernail."

I remember the feeling

of indescribable pleasure

with which I had first seen

a beautiful woman for the first time,

a hundred years ago.

In the meantime, the ships
that were going to take Orlando to England

were arriving on the Turkish Sea.

I'm Naelle Dariya,

06 19 85 31 74.

In this film I'll be
. Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

To be trans is to discover the backstage
of sexual and gender difference.

To understand that a society is
a collectively constructed set

and that masculinity and femininity
are political fictions,

which we have learned to perceive as
natural through repetition and violence.

A gender transition is a journey.

It is not a passage between masculinity
and femininity or vice versa,

but rather a journey
into unknown territory.

This unknown land is actually
the society we were born into,

but now experienced

from a different political position.

Transition does not begin during sleep

as an unconscious, passive moment,

but rather in the dream

as an active emergence
of desire in memory.

It is in our imagination
as a force for political transformation

that we start becoming trans.

What?

The sight of my knees
can cause the death of a boy

who no doubt has a wife and family?

So, to be kind,
I should keep them covered up.

A pox on them!

Now I must return to England,

but what will England say
when they see me like this?

Once I set foot on English soil
as a woman,

I'll never be able to crack a man
on the head, or tell him he lies,

or sit among my peers in Parliament,

or wear 72 different medals
on my breast.

My only right as a woman

will be to pour out tea
and ask my lords how they like it.

"D'you take sugar?

D'you take cream?"

No girls. Don't be silly!

Your Orlando, Virginia, went to Turkey
as a soldier of the king

and returned,
transformed into a woman.

In 1952,
Orlando was called Christine Jorgensen.

She was like your character,
a soldier who became a woman

and came to the United States
from Denmark.

The first trans women featured on TV
were always portrayed

as Orlando,
stepping off a boat or a plane.

In the normative narratives
of the lives of Orlandos,

there is this obstinacy
to make trans women arrive from afar.

As if transformation
should always happen abroad.

As if it could never happen here.

As if a vaginoplasty
should necessarily take place

in a parallel world.

As if the operating table
was on the waves or in the clouds.

In 1958, Orlando was called
Coccinelle

and she arrived in France
after passing through a clinic in Morocco.

And now

My goodness.

I didn't expect that.

Have you been offered
a movie contract

Yes, but I haven't accepted it yet.

Do you have any plans
rigarding theater?

No, I don't think so.

I cannot play the theater
of heterosexuality either.

I'm not a man...

I'm not just a woman...

I'm a trans woman.

I know the secrets of both sexes,

their social conventions
and their infirmities.

I'm no longer a boy.

I'm not a woman yet.

I'm not the person I want to be yet.

But the words to describe the gender
of the person I want to be don't exist.

So, they have to be invented.
So, you have to be poetic.

We are poets.

I'm very happy to be back,

and I don't have any plans
at the moment

and I thank you all
for coming

but I think it's too much

Fine. T.hank you very much

I was a feather blown on the gale.

I kept pitting one sex
against the other

and finding them
as pathetic as each other.

I don't understand why France,
a marvelous country I'm rediscovering...

I don't understand why it won't let
unhappy people get operated on.

People get nose jobs,
why not the rest?

My entire psychology was transformed.

Disappearance of shame,

disappearance of anxiety,

public authorization,

self-recognition,

self-esteem,

disappearance of hatred ,

appearance of love...

That is the aim.

Come...

Come.

I am sick to death
of this particular self.

I want another.

I travel the world all year round.

I know 2,000 post-op women.

I don't call them transsexuals.
I say women of the year 2000.

We will soon be the women
of the year 2000.

I always say I'm a trans woman.

I say it with pride. If I were reborn,

I'd want to be the same person.

How will this affect your job?

Darling, I don't have a job.
I am on welfair.

I have no intention to get a job
as long as this country

discriminates against homosexuals.

There's only homosexuals, bisexuals
then trisexual, darling.

And there's no straight people.

I discovered sex work, street work.

I saw women die,

girlfriends who fell right next to me,

a car went by, shots were fired,

they fell right next to me,

because of many things:
hatred, transphobia,

many horrible things.

It's what gave me the strength
to leave my home country, Venezuela.

I saw myself dead like many of my friends

who died that year.

I thought that if I stayed,

I wouldn't survive.

I have been to jaile.

I have been raped

and beaten

many times

by men.

I can't change my identity now.

I can see myself in a mirror.
Many people see me and I'm a woman,

but unfortunately,
for institutions, hospitals, banks,

I'm a victim of transphobia

because when I hand over my ID,
they don't see the person.

I will not put up with this shit.

I have been beaten,

I have had my nose broken.

I have been thrown in jail.

I have lost my job.

I have lost my apartment
for gay liberation

and you treat me this way?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

The people are trying to do
something for all of us

and not men and women
that belong to a white middle-class

white club,

and not what you belong to

...now

The state is responsible
for sex workers' insecurity

After returning to England as a woman

who had lost their possessions
and legal identity,

Orlando, now stateless
and accompanied only by their dog,

the only one who still recognized them,
began an endless wandering for centuries.

Come on, I'll give you...

Yes, I will.

I know, I know. Here, darling.

Hang on. Walk on
'cause it's too much.

Do it nice and easy.

Go on, off you go, darling.

You be careful.

Take it easy.

I'm Jenny Bel'Air.

In this film I'll be
Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

I'm Rilke. In this film I'll be
the dog of Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

Hello, ma'am.
How can I help?

I reserved a room
in the name of Mrs. Orlando.

Orlando.

- Indeed.
- Forgive me...

I just found out that Godard died
and it's made me so sad.

- Forgive me.
- My condolences.

I can give you Room 503.

Fine. I asked for a room
overlooking the courtyard as I hate noise.

- 503 is fine, then.
- OK. Don't forget I have a dog.

- OK?
- We accept dogs.

Excellent, good.

- Can I have your ID, please?
- Yes, I nearly forgot.

Now then...

Here is my passport.

Thank you.

Nationality: Planet Earth
Date of birth: 9 March 1500

Author: Virginia Woolf

Excuse me. I think this must be
your husband's. It's in a man's name.

Do I look married? Look at me.

There's no mistake. Look closely.

I did. I'm sorry,
I can't accept this ID card.

What? I'm Orlando. It's me!

Look, sir or madam, I don't know,
I can't accept this ID card.

I'm not sir or madam,
I'm Orlando!

So?

Don't call me sir.
Do I look like a man?

I'm not a man, you're mistaken.

It's my real passport. Look at the photo.

I saw it, but I can't accept
an ID card that isn't valid.

I have to ask you
to leave the hotel.

You do that to me?

You damn...

Shit!

ldentity papers are
administrative prostheses

without which a human body in a binary
society becomes a political outlaw,

without the possibility
of owning money,

without the right to circulate
or be admitted to public institutions.

Life without administrative papers
becomes an endless waiting room.

[in English]

And it is not by an oak tree
that Orlando went to seek comfort.

They went to the highest authorities
of the Republic

to demand their recognition.

When I came back,

I, of course, had no right to anything.

Everything was over.

I had no papers,
everything was taken from me,

as usual.

When I think that society is everything,
society is nothing really.

It takes everything.

And what I ask is immediately,

right away, if I've come here,

respect for myself
and for everyone who looks like me.

Otherwise, it's no use.
But society won't be able to kill me.

I'm Emma.

And in this film I'll be
Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

I've already lived for almost 400 years.

I've seen many things.

The colonization of America...

of Africa...

and of Asia

by Europe.

I've seen the extermination
of the first peoples,

the arrival of capitalism,

the rise of industrial production,

the destruction of nature.

They went that far.

I've seen...

the invention of normative heterosexuality

and the nuclear family.

With this belief that as a woman,

if you're not married
or you haven't given birth,

you're useless, you don't exist.

I've seen...

Oh yes, also the invention of the notion
of transsexuality and intersexuality

at the end of the 19th century.

With the aim of excluding us
from the human world

and making us look like monsters.

I've also seen...

the arrival of a new generation
that wanted to live like me,

without law, without God,
without gender.

But despite this growing visibility

of transgender and non-binary people,

I am in political limbo.

Without papers.

Without a real existence.

Why?

Is it so complicated
to give us new papers?

Why

does someone else, a judge,

a psychiatrist,

claim to know more than me

about my identity?

To deny our identity

is to erase us from society.

We don't exist.

It's to refuse we have rights
like others, like binary people.

But I...

I want to give myself this identity.

But I'll recognize myself,
I don't need this paper.

I'll have it one day.

But I give myself this paper, me.

I will be Emma, Orlando

and I'll walk toward life.

Brave, happy...

I will be proud and joyful...

to be here...

with you.

I'll recognize myself

and I'll love myself.

I'm Koriangelis Brawns.

In this film I'll be
Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

But what is an identity document,

if not a piece of paper
written and printed,

a small booklet
containing a political fiction?

Shared fictions
that we have collectively constructed

and that we forget
we can question, modify, change.

Or, to put it another way, fictions
that we can lay on an operating table.

Sometimes they're really difficult.

But... we're here!

It's a big operation.

Historically, trans people have been seen
as bodies that require medical surgery

to restore continuity
between anatomy and gender.

Me too, I have been
on this operating table.

Where did you get the idea,
Virginia of a character

who changes sex
in the middle of the novel?

Some say it was the desire
to imagine that Vita, your lover,

would not lose her inheritance rights
because she was a woman.

But the idea of trans character,
in 1928, was not sir simply a literary utopia.

When you wrote Orlando there were
already people in Europe and the US

who did not identify with the gender
they had been assigned at birth

and wanted to change it.

Between 1900 and 1920, the first
sex change operations hit the news.

Then, with the discovery
of synthetic hormones,

some people began experimenting
with producing a new trans body

at the Magnus Hirschfeld Institute
of Sexology in Berlin.

You, Virginia, intrepid reader,
could not ignore these discourses.

Who is operated on when our bodies lie on
the operating tables of the Binary Empire?

Our bodies are discursive artefacts,
assemblages of fiction and flesh.

To operate is to intervene
not only in anatomy,

but to cut into political fiction.

In your Orlando, you included

images of Vita and her ancestors.

But the real Orlandos of history
remained invisible.

We never operate on individual bodies.
We operate on the political history.

It is the regime of sexual difference
we have to operate on.

There are so many historical discourses
on which we must intervene.

That's me,
a non-binary 5-year-old Orlando

in the Spanish carnival,

accompanied by the fictions
of normative femininity and masculinity.

I'm Eleonore. In this film
I'll be Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

What have we done with the trans
and non-binary children that we were?

Christine Jorgensen,
the first trans woman in the media,

was a film editor before she lost her job
when she became a woman.

She said that to be trans
was to have the possibility

to edit the film of her life
differently.

I'm Lilie. In this film

I'll be Orlando.

Of Virginia Woolf.

- Virginia Woolf.
- Virginia Woolf!

I was told not to say it.

Cut!

And it is for the right to edit our lives
that we are still fighting today.

I'm Artur. In this film
I'll play Virginia Woolf's Orlando.

I'm a trans girl.

I live in Arroyo de Sansilva.
Over the last 4 years,

I was on a very important path,
the path to my happiness.

But it's still necessary to remember

I have the right to be called
how I feel.

4 years later,

mistakes over my name
are a bit strange,

as if anyone could doubt
I'm a trans girl.

Your Orlandos are still there.

Now, for the first time, they start
to speak up and to exist by themselves.

To choose their name
and to choose their own life.

The world to come
belongs to the new Orlandos.

They will edit the film of History.

It is for them that you wrote your book,
even without knowing it,

and that I made this film.

But of all I have to say today,
the main thing is this:

ladies and gentlemen involved in politics,
continue, despite the threats,

to make laws that recognize
that people are diverse.

Above all, we trans people
have the right to be who we are.

Don't let anyone take away our happiness.
Thank you.

Today...

Wednesday October 11, 2028,

faced with the collapse
of the patriarchal-colonial regime,

and by the powers given to me
by Virginia Woolf and literature,

I declare

the abolition of the assignment
of sexual difference at birth

and its legal
and administrative registration.

Thus,

I grant
planetary, non-binary citizenship to

Orlando Emma.

Orlando Jenny.

♪ You're not the doctor's bitch ♪

♪ You're not the doctor's bitch ♪

Orlando La Burette

Orlando Victor

♪ You might be pathetic
But not apologetic ♪

♪ You're not the doctor's bitch ♪

♪ It's time to bite ♪

♪ You're not the doctor's bitch ♪

Orlando Noah

♪ No! No! ♪

Orlando Amir

♪ No! No! ♪

♪ Oh, Virginia
What have we done? ♪

♪ Do you want a job with us? ♪

♪ Pharmacoliberation ♪

Orlando Oscar

♪ I am your Orlando ♪

♪ Virginia ♪

♪ Do you really think that I could
Ever, ever live like that? ♪

♪ Pharmacoliberation ♪

♪ You're not the doctor's bitch
You're not the doctor's bitch ♪

♪ You're not the doctor's bitch ♪

♪ You're not the doctor's bitch ♪

♪ Pharmacoliberation ♪

- Here's to the judge!
- The judge!

♪ Pharmacoliberation ♪

I'm Virginie Despentes. In this film

I'll be the judge
of Virginia Woolf's Orlando.