_Go Fish_ reviewed by Cynthia Fuchs _Go Fish_ has been called a "lesbian _She's Gotta Have It_.'' You can understand the compulsion to categorize (it's easier to recommend or dismiss something new by making comparisons to something already in popular circulation), but this is an unfortunate shorthand, setting up expectations that Rose Troche's film doesn't need to carry. It helps to remember that Lee's movie initiated the mainstreaming of the "black new wave,'' paving the way (because it was financially successful) for more work with specifically black subjects and settings. If _Go Fish_ helps to make "lesbian'' movies more familiar, more available, more frequently made and distributed, that's all to the good. There are some larger questions here. Consider how such classifications (especially when reduced to one-word labels) are used to promote, market, or otherwise regulate movies. What is a "woman's film,'' a "Chinese-American film,'' a "gay film,'' a "Generation X film''? We notice, of course, that few people refer to "straight white guy films,'' though there are lots of them out there. Who makes these distinctions anyway? How are identity- categories different from generic designations (westerns, thrillers, family-oriented-comedies)? What are the elements that make a movie "Native American'' or "working class''? What are the effects of naming a picture according to its social themes or political concerns, as opposed to by its star or director? When is it useful to claim such a label? Is it possible to reject one, once it's imposed? And can a movie survive - can it draw an audience - without some kind of descriptive tag? This film doesn't undertake to answer any of these questions. But in its differences from so-called standard fare, it does suggest that they're worth asking. Troche and her co- producer/co-writer Guinevere Turner (who also stars in the film as Max) say that they set out to make a "lesbian film,'' one made by and for lesbians, with no men on the set or involved in financing. Well, this is one way to define the category, but it can be self-limiting. Troche and Turner changed their original idea (they worked with guys), and still came up with something you can call a "lesbian movie.'' As Troche says, "I believe I should deal with a subject I have a relationship with, and be able to make my art without taking a political vacation.'' _Go Fish_ isn't a vacation; it makes space for a particular, usually unseen community. At the sametime, it's likely to be what they (whoever they are) call a "crossover film,'' one that will appeal to a general audience. Toward this end, it's doubtless a delightful movie, small, lithe and energetic. Shot in black and white, in Chicago, it revels in its simple story (how does an ostensibly unlikely couple get together?), low budget, and crisp, resourceful stylistics. Max is looking for love; after a year of datelessness, she's worrying that she's never going to find that elusive perfect partner. So far, so sweet. Max is supported by a (multi-racial) group of friends, who encourage the extension of her emotional horizons. Her roommate Kia (T. Wendy McMillan) is an African American college professor, who's dating Evy (Migdalia Melendez), who's having trouble with her jealous ex-husband. The outspoken Daria (Anastasia Sharp) has a shy, potentially available roommate, Ely (V.S. Brodie), who's sort of attached to a long distance girlfriend and definitely attached to her cats. All of this is extremely pleasant: the girls are charming, their dialogue is clever, their concerns are common (but not tedious). The film is more intriguing during its digressions from the plot-proper, as when the friends gather to discuss the couple-to- be. Arranged so that their heads look up at an overhead camera, they debate favorite words for vagina (love-mound, girl-patch ["Sounds like a bad haircut!''], honeypot, cunt), and list "women that you know to be lesbians or that you take to be lesbians through history to the present time,'' like, say, Eve, Peppermint Patty, Whitney (!), Angela Davis, Marilyn Quayle, and "the entire cast of 'Roseanne.''' Funny. Much of _Go Fish_ is very funny, offering dry and laid-back commentary on being female and queer in a straight- and male-dominant culture. And a couple of times it pushes a little harder, considering, for instance, the category "lesbian.'' On the way home from a date, Daria encounters some women who appoint themselves arbiters of her allegiance to the cause. She's just come from seeing a man; so, they ask, what does *that* mean? Daria says she's a "lesbian who had sex with a man.'' As you might imagine, there are those who disagree with her self-identification: "There's no such thing''; "You just can't stay away from that dick.'' The questions raised by this interlude are difficult ones. Who makes the rules of membership in a disempowered group? Can you claim an identity for yourself or must it be assigned to you? This scene leads to a visual, almost poetic, meditation on institutionalized heterosexuality: women stand with their backs to a brick wall (well, it's not subtle), alluding to marriage, social genderings, and linguistic restrictions. Such heavy, heady questions are provocative and lingering, but the main business of _Go Fish_ is to get those chicks together. Max and Ely are tentative at first, unsure of their mutual attraction, thinking that maybe they're too different: all that regular relationship stuff. This isn't about narrative suspense or spectacular events, it's about living in the world and even, possibly, meeting Ms. Right. And that's enough. Cynthia Fuchs teachs film and media studies at George Mason University. Copyright 1994 by Cynthia Fuchs. All rights reserved. Please do not reproduce this review without the permission of the author. This review originally appeared in the Philadelphia _City Paper_.