Directing: B+
Writing: B+
Cinematography: B
Editing: B

How have I never heard of Peter Tatchell? This guy has been a notorious international queer rights activist for fifty-three years. Sadly, from the point of view of an American like myself, the answer is almost certainly just that: the American exceptionalism that pervades domestic media, to the exclusion of most international news. I never heard of him because he’s not an American. Maybe also because he’s 69 years old, and much of his most notorious protest stunts occurred before I was born or when I was a child.

All that said, Tachtell is a divisive person, even amongst those whose rights he fights for. By that measure alone, though, the documentary Hating Peter Tatchell, now streaming on Netflix, justifies itself. This guy may not be American, but he’s still an English speaker and a white man, originally from Melbourne Australia, and thus came into the world with a key type of privilege. I would argue that he has weaponized that privilege for the greater good, but I would not necessarily fault anyone for disputing such a claim.

For instance: is there a “white savior” element to Peter Tatchell’s antics? This is a guy who twice attempted a citizen’s arrest on Zimbabwean President Robert Mugabe for human rights abuses and torture, the first incidence of which turned the tide of public opinion in the UK over to his side. Mugabe is far from Tatchell’s only target, however, and it seems clear that, in Tatchell’s mind, his activism is purely egalitarian. He has engaged in civil disobedience on multiple continents, including a stand-in in solidarity with the gay community in Russia during the World Cup in Moscow in 2018, the video documents of which basically serve as the climactic sequence of this film. After footage of him being beaten multiple times in multiple places at other protests around the world beforehand, it actually winds up slightly anticlimactic. Not that I wanted him to get further beaten or anything.

The thing is, sure, you could say that Peter Tachell eager for attention. But that’s precisely what his brand of confrontational activism is designed to do, and his effectiveness at shining light on human rights abuses the world over cannot be denied. If the very bishop whose nationally televised sermon he disrupted twenty years ago can now be seen skirting stunningly close to comparing Tatchell’s conviction and work to that of Jesus, the guy must be doing something right. People for decades accused Tatchell of being counterproductive to the cause, but it’s literally because of people like him that progress has ever leapt forward.

There’s no question, the man is a complicated figure, and the bias in Hating Peter Tatchell is pretty transparent: the intent is only to paint a flattering picture, even as writer-director Christopher Amos includes interviews with people who criticize Tatchell’s tactics.

I fairly easily found myself on Tatchell’s side for the bulk of this film. This is a guy whose worldview much more closely matches that of the original Stonewall rioters than many young queer people today; I found myself thinking about the ridiculous recent discourse regarding whether people should be allowed to wear fetish gear at Pride Parades because it’s “not family friendly.” (They should.) Pride is about freedom of self-expression, and if anyone embodies that notion, it’s Peter Tatchell—even though he’s disarmingly unassuming, the antithesis of flamboyant, usually wearing a button-down shirt and a tie. But, he’s also always a part of disruptive protest, never taking credit but always taking part and often a key organizer.

But . . . well, there’s aways a but, I suppose. I was struck by the language Tatchell uses in his interview for this film, always always saying “LGBT+” when some years ago he might have just said “gay.” He’s clearly conscious of the evolving nature of identity politics, but a small detail during the end credits didn’t sit that well with me. Some might consider this nitpicky, and that’s fine: a slideshow of still photos of Tatchell at various protests runs alongside the credits, two of which feature either Mugabe or the Pope in drag queen-like makeup. They read ROBERTA MUGABE: QUEEN OF TYRANNY, and POPE “BETTY” BENEDICT XVI. This is clearly intended as humiliation by feminizing them, and . . . is that not transphobic?

Google “Peter Tatchell” and “transphobic” and you won’t get a lot of relevant hits, but you’ll find a few, including a letter Tatchell once signed along many others defending the right of trans-exclusionary feminists to speak on college campuses. It should be noted that he did not defend their views, but their right to express them, and that’s where things get sticky. That doesn’t mean they aren’t relevant, however, and although I hesitate to say this issue warrants direct examination in the film, the inclusion of the photos with those signs at the very least seems ill-advised.

But then, this all gets right back to the central question about Tatchell as an activist figure, and his many tactics people have disagreed with. You might not like everything he does or says, but if this film is any indication, it’s hard to deny that by and large he’s been wildly successful at meeting his goals. This is his life’s work, and I would argue he should be celebrated, warts and all. It also doesn’t mean he’s above criticism.

The person interviewing Tatchell in this film is none other than Sir Ian McKellen, and another one of the interviewees is Stephen Fry. Many other well-known UK activists are included as well, and Hating Peter Tatchell paints a very compelling, if maybe a little rosy picture of his life and achievements. It would be hard to see this film and not want to shift right into your own debates, which is maybe a good thing. As long as it’s in good faith, these are things we should always be discussing, and Tatchell is one of the guys keeping those discussions going.

Overall: B+