Aslı, who has just moved to Berlin, is performing a voice. Speaking in Turkish for an audio tour of an archaeological museum, while talking about the altar of Zeus, who moved from his country to Germany in time, she tries to cope with feelings of mischief and foreignness in her own life and to be herself.
Documented human suffering is never easy to view or read about and is understandably triggering for many people, but it can be educational, and education is a key to change. An overwhelming amount queer people worldwide (and in my own country) have it far worse than I could imagine, and documentaries such as Welcome to Chechnya bring issues to light that certain groups of people would never see.
For the entirety of Raiders of the Lost Ark, Marion remains in full control of both her body and her personality, a rarity for female characters at the time of the film’s release. She’s granted depth with personal demons from her past and emotional vulnerability when the situation deems it appropriate for her to grow alongside Indy. She avidly rejects the notion of being anything other than a sassy, humane rebel, and Indy’s equal in every way. This she does while still maintaining her femininity.
The plot could’ve really been interesting if the elements of lycanthropy was integrated with perhaps the struggle of identity of being LGBTQ+. It's an experience for so many that as they’re starting to realizing their true selves, they feel like a monster, especially if they come from unsupportive homes or communities. Instead, the horror and transformation elements seem thrown in without contemplation of how this could deepen the narrative.
Battles will come and go and queer people do die for their identity and fights for rights, but that doesn’t mean the gays don’t deserve their happy endings in stories.
