Dutch lesbian drama Anne+ is back with a new, feature length film. The original series followed twentysomething Anne Verbeek as she found her feet in the lesbian dating scene and the world of work. Now Anne is 30, stuck in a rut, and trying to figure out who she is. On the surface Anne has it all: a girlfriend who adores her, a publisher for her book, and a well-lit apartment. But her book needs to be rewritten and Sara is flirting with another woman.
Jealous of Sara’s blossoming affair, Anne leaps into the orbit of a charismatic drag king. And she keeps making choices that don’t fit with the plan to join Sara in Montreal. Caught in a crossroads, Anne must work out what she wants and how to get it.
What makes Anne+ so watchable are the many possible paths ahead of her. Does Anne want to leave behind her home, friends, and community for a love she’s no longer sure of? Will she continue to build a life with Sara, or start something new with Lou; do both or neither?
The question of what story Anne wants to tell is mirrored by the question of what life she wants to live. It’s an in-your-face but effective way of exploring the film’s theme: how to live authentically.
Anne+ does a great job of depicting directionless Millennial ennui. Hanna van Vliet’s nuanced performance brings to life Anne’s hope and frustration; all the things she keeps bottled up instead of sharing with the people around her. But this film has nothing new to say about lesbian life, relationships, or community. Anne’s messy life and aimlessness are almost mandatory in films about white, liberal gays on a quest for self-discovery.
More to the point, lesbians have been practicing non-monogamy for decades. These conversations have been part of our community for longer than Anne has been alive. The subplot around polyamory doesn’t shock or surprise – though it’s clearly intended to.
Anne+ is supposed to be countercultural, but the politics are lazily drawn. Anne’s big speech to her editor about how “queerness” shapes the way she sees the world, while earnest in delivery, felt like a rehashed Tumblr post from 2013.
And Lou (Anne’s new lover) spouts empty liberal rhetoric about gender – complete with Instagrammable costumes and cosmetics – that is framed as revolutionary. This conversation about gender performance is positioned as life-changing moment for Anne, her first drag photoshoot filmed in glorious technicolour. But the concept and delivery of this scene all smack of style over substance.
In a passionate monologue, Lou claims “people in drag and transwomen of colour were on the frontlines” of the Stonewall Uprising. Lou draws on this legacy without ever once acknowledging the butch lesbian whose resistance of police brutality started it all: Stormé DeLarverie. That act of erasure scrapes the meaning out of Lou’s politics, and the those of the creative team. Anne+ is exquisitely produced but insubstantial.
Still, there’s one area where the film stands out. Anne+ offers a sensual, upfront depiction of lesbian sexuality. There’s a powerful pull between Anne and Sara, as well as Anne and Lou. And Anne’s first night with Lou makes the top three strap-on scenes I’ve ever seen on screen!
Anne+ is now streaming on Netflix.
