The movie Salam Gembira was released by Studio59 Concepts last month (June 2024). Advertising itself as an LGBTQ-centric film starring mainly Singaporean Malay-Muslim cast members, it was not well received by the community – facing backlash way before it premiered. The negative reactions are, however, unsurprising as any mention of LGBTQ+ in mainstream Malay media has always been met with controversy and disapproval. 

Is the backlash against Salam Gembira warranted? Was it really as ‘liberal’ and full of ‘LGBT agenda’ as some writers and podcasters online claim it to be? 

I would argue that the LGBTQ+ aspect – the theme of sexuality and reconciliation of one’s identity as both a Muslim and a member of the LGBTQ+ community — is not the main theme of the movie. 

Upon closer analysis, which one can only do after actually viewing the movie, the overarching theme of the movie is the nature of identity, how it intersects and can be a source of conflict. The complexity of diverse identities and cultures may even require one to perform multiple versions of themselves to please different people in their lives. 

This is portrayed through the main character, Moe. He co-habits with Sam, his Dutch girlfriend, in Rotterdam, the Netherlands. This does not bode well with Moe’s conservative Malay-Muslim family, who believe that Moe can only marry a Muslim woman and pre-marital sex is out of the question.

When Moe’s parents make a surprise Rotterdam trip to visit him, he goes to great lengths to hide his girlfriend (a symbol of his ‘decadent Western lifestyle’) from his disapproving parents. This unfolds throughout the movie. To make his lies convincing, he enlists the help of Dan, Sam’s brother, to take over her place at home. Unwanted situations and unexpected turn of events only make it harder for Moe to keep up this charade. Suspicion only grows stronger when Moe’s parents find out that Dan is gay, wondering if he is a friend of Moe’s, or more.

Without divulging too much of the movie – as I believe people should watch it and form their own judgements – it should be made known that Moe is straight. 

The main character of this queer film is a cis heterosexual Malay man. The film explores his rigid yet fragile masculinities and intersecting identities; how his performance and inability to be upfront and truthful to both parties only cause more harm than good. 

This begs the question: Why the need for the queer aspect?

“I don’t think you should have brought up about the LGBT in the movie,” says the reactionary Muslim netizen.

Conflict of identities might resonate with audiences – gay or straight. However, the theme of reconciling one’s faith with their queerness – proclaimed by the majority of Muslims as unequivocably a sin — hits closer to home for many queer Muslim individuals, a conflict that comes to life in the movie through its narrator, Mateen.

Mateen is a gay Malay-Muslim man exiled by his Singaporean family. He seeks solace and comfort in the Netherlands. He also happens to be Dan’s partner (sort of). Mateen gets dragged into Moe’s elaborate charade,  and ends up coincidentally meeting Yati, his long-lost aunt. (She is a friend of Moe’s parents and followed them on their holiday).  The chance meeting opens up Mateen’s deepest wounds and traumas.

Yati gets the shock of her life when she sees Mateen participating in the Rotterdam Pride Parade, affirming her suspicions that her nephew did, in fact, leave home because he was queer and was not well accepted back home. When she begs him to come home, he discloses that though he has embraced his identity as a gay man, he still practices Islam as taught to him, including performing his 5 obligatory prayers and fasting during the month of Ramadan. 

Juxtaposed with Moe’s lifestyle, both these characters bear similar struggles. Again, I reiterate that reconciliation of identities is the main theme of the movie.

The need for incorporating the element of queerness among the other Malay-Muslim dominated themes becomes clear during the scene where Daud (Yati’s second husband, who is a Chinese-Muslim revert) tries Gaylen’s (a gay Singaporean man living in Rotterdam) halal bak ku teh. In one of the most hilarious yet tear-jerking moments in the movie, Daud cries at the taste of the halal bak ku teh, after having to forgo the delicacy which is often mainly made of pork.

When Daud sees that Gaylen is preparing for the Rotterdam Pride Parade after he finishes the bak ku teh, he offers to help with the decorations. Gaylen questions his intentions, as he knows that Muslims do not look favourably upon the queer community. Daud replies with empathy, saying he knows how painful rejection from one’s own family and community feels like, having experienced it first-hand after converting to Islam. 

To which, Gaylen replied: “While you chose to embrace Islam, I didn’t have the choice to choose who I am attracted to.”

Such is the distinctive factor that separates a struggle like Mateen’s from Moe’s. When attraction for others – be it romantic or sexual — and our natural disposition to believe and obey a Higher Order are integral and innate to what makes us living and breathing humans, how does one navigate life when they’re seemingly at odds with each other? 

This movie seeks to humanise these individuals and highlight their struggles, which would otherwise be swept under the carpet. Debating the laws of God, making theological compromises, and ultimately, ‘permitting homosexuality’ are not the messages that the movie and filmmakers are trying to convey. 

What they do want from the movie though, is to start an honest dialogue and open discussion. A platform where people get to participate with an open mind, without having prejudiced, preconceived notions about one another. This movie is a good start, a small step towards that direction.