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Streaming Shuffle

How to Carry Water

A slice of joyful life.

Les Blank has a short documentary called God Respects Us When We Work, but Loves Us When We Dance, and Sasha Wortzel’s How to Carry Water is all about the dance.

Another documentary, covering a different photographer than Florida’s Shoog McDaniel, would focus more intensely on the embedded idea that this is defiant dancing. How to Carry Water only brushes up against it: it’s not about the struggle but about the idyllic, ecstatic moments when the struggle can be forgotten. What is it like to be queer and fat in rural Florida? No: what’s it like to be free and beautiful, enraptured by your body and the bodies of those you love, an abundant part of an abundant natural world? “Down here,” says Shoog, who’s shooting their friends in a gorgeous watery reverie of trailing hair and billowing flesh, “my body is no longer something I have to carry.”

Shoog’s photoshoots, as captured by Wortzel, are a little like the love-in Blank was chronicling. They’re art, but, Shoog explains, they’re also time with friends, where everyone collaborates in constructing a kind of fairyland. If certain bodies–fat, trans, Black–are rarely captured on film, they’re still more rarely captured with this kind of lustful affection and–again, more rarely still–this kind of delicate dreaminess. The ethereal is usually reserved for the white, the slim, and the obviously feminine; Shoog and Wortzel find the mermaid and the goddess of fairyland in everyone. No one owns beauty, and no one owns a sun-drenched pre-Raphaelite swampland paradise, either.

Of course, neither artist would get very far without their subjects. This is not a talky documentary, but Shoog’s trio of subjects do get a chance for a bit of a say, and they’re well-aware of what art they’re creating and why. One, Anna, talks about realizing to her shock that if she desired another fat person, if she reveled in their body, then she too must be desirable; Mathias, who is Black and trans and whose body is therefore constantly, exhaustingly politicized, mentions this kind of self-embrace too: “I’m trying to enjoy existing in this body that I have right now, that has taken me so far and has been with me every step of the way. Ain’t nobody gonna stop me. Nobody ever has.”

But the wonder of How to Carry Water is still the moment when all those concerns disappear. We all know they’ll come back, just as everyone here knows they will. But in the meantime, there are colorful, elaborate outfits and flower-festooned nudity–choices made to celebrate and call attention to one’s existence, not diminish or apologize for it. In the meantime, there’s a disco ball out in the woods. And the beautiful people are here.

How to Carry Water is streaming on the Criterion Channel.