The LA Theatrical

I flew out to LA on a Thursday evening. On the flight, I wondered how the theatrical for Love Chaos Kin would go. This would be our first time in a small theater in LA.

LA is unlike New York or Philly, where everything is centered in one place. The theater sat in an in-between space, with auto showrooms on one side and bistros on the other.

Our first show was on Friday at 1:30. I wrapped up work at the hotel and walked to the theater.

As I walked inside, Chithra was already there, merch set out on the table, digital screens rotating the “Now Playing” posters. I felt a rush when our poster came up behind us. Later that day, the theater manager April had our physical poster up on the wall outside the theater. Just walking past it was surreal. I got to see us on a poster in Hollywood. Life sure is strange.

In the midst of these screenings Kat, Chithra and I chatted over food, decompressed over wine and soju and caught up on life. I was working each morning. I woke early, logged a full day of work, ate when possible and hung out at the theater for every show. The days were long but it gave me an appreciation for the grunt work that goes into promoting a labor of love. The parallels between writing and film making was on my mind most of the time. Watching Chithra work made me realize how far I have to go if I ever dream of making it as a writer full time.

Over 21 shows, I watched people from different walks of life walk in and walk out transformed. Some were retired. Some came because a friend or a counsellor asked them to come watch. Some others came because we sat there in the lobby of the theater day in day out making our film a familiar presence. I made friends of strangers and enjoyed the people watching.

The Q&As

When people touched by adoption came, whether adopted people, prospective adoptive parents, birth parents, social workers, or people in the foster care space, their questions came from a place of empathy and connection. You could tell they related to what the film was doing. I enjoyed those Q&As.

Then there was one person who had picked up the flyer we had set out and he returned another day. He was white, and he directed all his questions about the kids to Kat. It was enough to bother me and to bother Kat.

The next session, the audience was mostly Indian. Most of the questions were directed at me. It felt more like curiosity than empathy or relating. I don’t think anyone in that group was directly impacted by adoption.

Later that night, I thought about it. When he directed his questions at Kat, I was annoyed and quick to reach for the word racism in my head, because it felt racially motivated. Maybe it was. But when a group of Indian people directed their questions at me, I struggled to put the word racism in that context. I kept reaching for the idea that they related to me. It made me ask why I was quick to dismiss one person’s ability to relate to someone who looked like them, but not the other’s. I wanted to think about that and interrogate why I felt that way.

As people we tend to reach for the familiar. In marginalized spaces, that action seems to carry a greater weight. So, like I always do, I turned it over in my head and I realized it was not just that the questions seemed directed to Kat. It was that these questions had to do with everyday living pertaining to our kids and I was the one who over the course of an hour and a half on screen was shown raising them. And, after watching it all, this person still felt Kat was the one with answers.

Then there were people who had no idea what the film was. The average moviegoer walked in, saw ours was starting next, and bought a ticket. And, they struggled to box what this film was to them.

After every Q&A, we asked how the film made people feel. Across audiences, “honest” came up a lot. So did “grateful” and “gratitude.” “Love” was one of the answers most people reached for. But people who walked in not knowing what to expect, especially people not touched by adoption, struggled to fit this film into their preconceived notions of what adoption, or race relations, should look like. That is what I found fascinating: the intersectionality of this film. It upends every trope people naturally gravitate toward, and that left them struggling for words.

What It Told Me

After 21 shows, and talking with people after almost every one, the overarching feeling was that this film resonates. Almost everyone had questions, and they kept talking about it long after they left. People sent friends. They shared it on their own. If this film breaches containment, it will find an audience.

And I guess that’s the bigger question. How does an independent film that’s clearly made well, and that resonates with audiences, find its audience?

I don’t have every answer. I know part of it. It finds its audience when someone who has seen it turns to a friend and says, come with me. My cousin did that. She brought more than 20 people.

So here is my ask. If you’re anywhere near New York, come to the DCTV Firehouse Cinema between October 30 and November 5. Bring someone who has never thought about adoption, and someone who has. Stay for the questions. Tell me afterwards how it made you feel, in one word if that’s all you’ve got. And if you can’t come, send it to a friend who can. Dates and tickets are at lovechaoskinmovie.com.

Please come!

If this moved you, send a tip.