Alt om min far (2002, Norway)

Documentary about the film-maker's transvestite father. The English title is All About My Father, and it is a reference to Almodovar's film All About My Mother.

One seldom asks one's parents about their childhood, youth and the choices they once made in shaping their future. My father was twelve when he discovered that he liked to dress up in women's clothing. He knew already then that this secret pleasure could change people's opinion about him. I've always wanted to ask my father about these things---these sore memories that are now forgotten---now that he has achieved most of his goals in life.

At a party, a woman started talking about a man who dressed up in women's clothing. She couldn't understand what was so terribly wrong with it. In her opinion, people should learn to accept individuals that don't fit the concept of the ideal human being. My father also appeared at this joyful celebration, and when he heard this, his face lit up in such a way that his best friend quickly put two and two together. A couple of months later my father married this same woman, thus thinking he had found someone who would understand and love him for what he was.

My father was insecure though and kept his preference to himself for a number of years. In the meantime, he gave her two children. I was one of these children. Why he kept the truth from her these first years, I've never quite understood. He felt safe, yet he chose to withhold the truth.

In many ways he acted wisely because when my mother finally caught him red-handed when returning early from work one day, she broke down. She tore off to the nearest bar and filled her head with alcohol. My father was left completely alone in full women's regalia. His thoughts must have spun faster than on the day of an important exam, yet he quickly put on some other clothes and ran after her. When he caught up with her, he approached her as carefully as he could and swore never to dress up as a woman again.

This was a lie from a desperate man afraid of being left alone. This I understand, but not his anguish or his thoughts. Only he can explain these.

The following years, he grew a beard, pumped iron and adopted an almost model-like macho attitude towards life. 'Tough' is a word I associated him with when I was growing up. Once again, he was caught dressing up. What exactly happened this time I'm not sure of. My parents must have reached some kind of agreement, which allowed him to dress up as a woman once a month. This was to take place behind closed doors and drawn curtains.

The children were not to know. We were sent to our grandparents in good faith, believing that when mom and dad enjoyed themselves, home was off-limits to children. After a while, guests started attending these parties: mainly close friends whom through conversation had accepted and agreed with the fact that one of their best friends sometimes dressed up as a woman.

That all this had to be secret and confidential is understandable. My father was slowly setting up a medical practice in the small bible-belt town of Grimstad. With time this practice has been so highly recognized that the locals no longer question his preference. One could perhaps envision quite a bourgeois riot as a result of this, yet the small town has proven to be more tolerant than its reputation.

My father must have had a plan: he was to be the one to tell the world about this matter. Slowly but surely, he started a research project. He distanced himself from the family and withdrew to an office cramped with books. He became a sexologist with transvestism as special field. I've always wondered what my mother thought at this point, for surely she must have guessed that his ultimate goal would be to reveal himself to more people than just his close friends.

Our house became filled with erotic magazines and professional books on sex. In time, his preference became known to everyone in the family, children included. I came to know the truth when I once became furiously angry over having to spend yet another night at my grandmother's place. My father brought me to his office, sat me down on the examination table and said: "Your father likes to dress up as a woman." I was ten at the time, and all I really could compare this to was carnival. So for me it wasn't really a big deal. My father's life took a decisive turn one day when he went to a congress and met a woman who became fascinated with his personal sense of "carnival." Suddenly, my father glimpsed an opportunity for a better life; a life where he didn't have to put on an act, a life where he could be himself. He took the hand of this woman and has yet to let go.

Divorce was unavoidable. My father and his new wife continued their work with sexology. There was no longer any doubt in his mind; he was to step forward, to come out of the closet. It was only a matter of time. I still don't know if the time he took was to protect us children or purely coincidental, but I was eighteen when my father called me and told me that he was going to appear on national television. I didn't understand why this should be exposed to all of Norway, not to speak of, the whole world. This is why I decided not to appear with him on television.

After this first appearance, there has been a hailstorm of TV appearances and tabloid articles. When Juritzen-TV proposed to make a feature documentary on him, I told my father that if anyone was to make a documentary on him of considerable length, it had to be me. He just had to wait a few years for me to gain the necessary skill and experience to go through with it.

My father agreed. My documentary will focus on the period before he went public. I feel that we know enough about the media celebrity. I want to create an image of a man with dreams, fears and visions. As a result of this, I will not concentrate on sensationalistic material. Some should be included though, but only to serve as illustrating elements. With twenty-five years of research behind me, I should be considerably qualified to convey this story in a serious, subjective, at times funny, but most importantly, personal way.

by Even Benestad

Thanks to Lea from Hessen for this text; HF February 2002

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