Drew Burnett Gregory is back at TIFF, reporting daily with queer movie reviews from one of the world’s most prestigious film festivals. Follow along for her coverage of the best in LGBTQ+ cinema and beyond.
When I told my dad the new script I was working on was a comedy, his eyes lit up. Maybe he thought it would be like the Marx Brothers or Mel Brooks or any number of Will Ferrell movies. But when he asked me what it was about and I began to explain, that optimism faded. It still seemed seem artsy and sad and, well, gay. It was still me. “That doesn’t sound very funny?” he questioned.
There’s a scene almost exactly like this one in Fabian Stumm’s lovely tragicomedy Sad Jokes. But instead of talking to his dad, Stumm’s character Joseph is talking to an eccentric producer (Godehard Giese). Joseph’s previous film was a weepy lesbian romance and the producer is excited — yet skeptical — by the notion of Joseph doing something a bit lighter.
Sad Jokes is itself quite funny even if its premise seems serious. Joseph is a gay filmmaker who had a baby with his best friend Sonya (Haley Louise Jones). Their son Pino is now a toddler but Sonya is still struggling with postpartum. She’s in and out of a mental health clinic and Joseph is navigating fatherhood, his career, and attempts to date again, while missing Sonya’s friendship and parental partnership.
Scenes both tragic and comic play out in extended static frames. In one, Sonya has returned from the clinic early and is trying to convince Joseph, her mom, and their friend that she doesn’t need to go back while growing increasingly erratic. In another, Joseph gets his hand caught in a vending machine as a hapless stranger tries to help. Stumm forces us to sit in each moment, the audience never knowing whether we’re about to laugh or cry or both. In that way, the film is not a comedy nor a drama, but rather a snapshot of life in all its categorical contradictions.
There’s a casual queerness to Joseph’s world. Beyond his unconventional parenting configuration — which also includes Sonya’s mom as a very loving and helpful grandma — his approach to art and life feels free of heteronormative structure. Some of the film’s best moments are between Joseph and Pino, watching Joseph not only be an excellent father but bring his full self to the task rather than mirroring an idea of paternal masculinity. There’s also a delightful subplot involving the two leads of his previous film falling in love IRL and disagreeing about how public they should be about their relationship. This is a very human film, but it’s also a very gay film with jokes that are sure to land even harder for queer audiences.
Stumm’s extended takes wouldn’t work without an entire cast of strong performances. Stumm has surrounded himself with actors who match his skill level. Stumm and Jones are the heart of the film, but Hildegard Schroedter as Sonya’s mom and Ulrica Flach as a sculptor Stumm has hired for his next film are also standouts. And some of the best comic moments are thanks to actors who only show up for a scene or even just a few lines.
When the producer reads Joseph’s “comedy” script, his critique is that it’s lacking in empathy. That is certainly not the case here. Everyone from Joseph and Sonya to the random woman who tries to help Joseph get out of the vending machine are treated with tenderness. The humor does not come at the expense of anyone, but rather from the absurdity of life.
Sad Jokes is a reminder that life has no genre. There is always humor to be found in even the most challenging moments. There’s love and forgiveness and hope to be found as well.
The story of Sad Jokes made me reflect on the complexity of life, where moments of humor and tragedy often intertwine; it not only presents a unique look at parenting and friendship in the LGBTQ+ community, but also emphasizes that despite the challenges, there is always light and joy to be found in the most ordinary things.