‘All Out Here’ Film Festival Showcases Love and Joy Found in Trans Community

From an all-trans hockey team to Godzilla figurines, the show highlighted the importance of community for those whose livelihoods are consistently in jeopardy.

As a trans refuge state, trans people have been migrating to Minnesota from across the country for protection, stability and community.

Minneapolis filmmaker Connor O’Keefe, born and raised in the Longfellow neighborhood, knew this going into production of his latest short film, “Quiet On The Ice,” that documents Team Trans, an all-trans and nonbinary hockey organization, and their Twin Cities chapter.

“There were a few articles done on our particular chapter that I thought were interesting, but when it’s not done by someone in our community, it can feel a little surface level,” O’Keefe explains. “So I reached out to the team, saying, ‘I’m a filmmaker, I’m trans, I’m interested in just getting to know you all. Let’s see where something could go,’ and they were super into it. I think they were, in particular, very interested in someone who was trans covering what they do and bringing in that perspective.”

O’Keefe says the film’s title comes from the testimony of a Team Trans player who said the world felt “quiet on the ice,” that they could put their worries away for the time being and just play the sport they loved with their people.

From its inception, O’Keefe knew he wanted to show “Quiet On The Ice” alongside other films by trans creators, particularly from Minnesota. The result: “All Out Here,” a one-night-only, one-hour screening of seven short films showcasing the joy, love and empowerment trans people find in community with each other.

“I wanted it to be a free screening where people could come and see these ideas playing off of each other,” O’Keefe says. “I really wanted all these films to be about communal and collective trans experiences.”

Though “festival” may be the wrong word for such a short event, “All Out Here” does indeed celebrate the trans community through a variety of techniques and genres. The program begins with “Coming Out” by Cressa Maeve Áine, a two-minute stop motion animation of a Godzilla figurine noticing his child does not take as much joy in destroying a metropolis as usual. We see the mini Godzilla entranced with a Sailor Moon-esque cartoon and lying despondently in bed. Then, at tea time, mini-Godzilla coos in subdued growls how she feels like a girl, not a boy.

Godzilla is immediately supportive, searching on its doll-sized laptop how to best support his daughter and crocheting her a trans flag. At their next metropolis matchup against their monstrous foe, mini Godzilla is wearing a pink hair bow.

It’s an endearing introduction to following shorts that are tender, thought-provoking and imbued with emotion. The second film, “The Songs of Water” by Ph?m Minh Quân, intersperses pristine, well-lit footage of BIPOC trans folks peacefully exploring nature with one-on-one conversations in a studio as they discuss both personal and large-scale narratives relating to their identities.

“I’d love to leave behind the trauma, but it happened,” one cast member says to another.

“Folks fully don’t comprehend what it feels like for the government to want to harm you,” says Candi Brings Plenty, who is Indigenous.

“This is all worth it. This is a miracle,” Gia Loving, a trans woman, says over footage of her floating in a river.

Other films included “A Letter from Minneapolis,” a place-based commentary on the commercialization of healthcare, “Die Räuberinnen,” a tender German-language film of three trans women planning a robbery and their camaraderie with each other, a triptych called “trannies live forever: turn your eyes to the sky” detailing sorrow and violence as well as trans joy in spite of it and “Even Still,” a flowy, hand-drawn animation of trans people of all ages finding joy with each other set to funky music.

Though O’Keefe says he plans to bring “All Out Here” elsewhere, I encourage readers to seek these films out on their own, as each of them are too brilliant for the space allocated here to describe them.

“Quiet On The Ice” concludes the program and, perhaps ironically, opens with the familiar sounds of hockey fading in: the woody slaps of sticks on pucks and the whooshing of players gliding around the ice. Voiceovers describe trans realizations happening with hockey as a backdrop, as well as feelings of misplacement within the sport.

O’Keefe’s presence is known only by his view from the camera, the narrative being guided by the Team Trans ensemble cast. Still, O’Keefe says he “never felt like just the camera person” during production. Many shots come from inside the locker room, a usually fraught space for trans people that, in the film, is devoid of the typical machismo that tends to drive them away from sports, enabled by O’Keefe’s closeness with the cast.

“A locker room as ever quite felt like church,” O’Keefe says.

In the locker room, as on the ice, players laugh with each other, help each other put on gear and encourage each other. They flop on their bellies and slide across the ice with an unmistakable childlike air.

Physicality is a key theme in the film, highlighting the rarity of spaces where trans people can fully inhabit their bodies and move freely within them. Any bodily dysphoria is quieted by the singular bulk of a hockey uniform.

“You can disappear into a hockey uniform,” O’Keefe says.

Shots of the hustle and bustle of Minneapolis, as well as Twin Cities Pride, frame Team Trans’s time on the ice, highlighting the role the group plays as a refuge from a constantly changing world that is increasingly antagonizing trans people.

Being trans is an inherently political existence, but “Quiet On The Ice” shows how Team Trans players recognize this while also allowing each other to inhabit a shared humanity first and foremost.

“We’ve all been through a lot, especially in the past few years,” another player says. “I think the only thing we can do as queer people is lean on each other and build those support networks. Otherwise, we’re not going to make it.”

O’Keefe says he hopes viewers of “All Out Here” leave with inspiration and the excitement to get involved with their communities, especially in physical spaces.

“If hockey isn’t your thing, find what is.”