Southern Comfort.

Southern Comfort * Directed by Kate Davis * Starring Robert Eads and Lola Cola * Q-Ball Productions

Anyone who is haunted by recurrent urges to commit matricide should cool their heels long enough to see Southern Comfort. In Kate Davis's extraordinary profile of Robert Eads, a female-to-male transsexual, Eads recalls his mother's response after the trauma and liberation of his transgender surgery: "The only thing she said was `Why couldn't you just stay gay?'"

As it happened, Earls never once considered himself homosexual (except when, as a woman, he was married to a heterosexual man). And if he ever thought of murdering his mother, he was far too gracious to let it be known. Despite the devastating transgressions of his parents, the palpable discomfort of his two sons from that former marriage, and the sundry injuries of a male-centric society that places transgendered folk "way down at the bottom of the food chain," Eads still maintained that family is the bedrock of existence.

The extended family that the 52-year-old Eads cultivated to find the harmony lacking in his blood clan--and that ultimately was there for him over the course of a ravaging illness--may seem an all-too-familiar theme to those of us who just stayed gay. Everything else about this heart- and groundbreaking film (which deservedly won the Grand Jury Prize in the Documentary Competition at this year's Sundance Film Festival) feels like uncharted territory. And Eads and his utopian family make this veiled corner of the planet seem so embracing and knowable that anyone who stops by for a visit is likely to go out the door with their head completely refurbished.

For many, the trailer-home outback of the Deep South where Eads resided is as exotic as it gets. The rural community of Toccoa, Ga., is nesting ground for a neo--Ku Klux Klan group that was so taken in by the bearded Eads's good-old-boy ambience that they asked him to join. Eads had less luck with the 20 doctors who refused to treat him for cancer of the cervix and ovaries, proving that for the transgender community at least, it's Bessie Smith all over again.

The irony of his condition--that he was dying from the only part left in him that was truly female--was not lost on Eads. But it was that boundless capacity for irony, combined with a bountiful heart, that made him irresistible to his surrogate family. Southern Comfort finds its emotional core in two relationships that reorient our notions of gender identity: Eads's love for Lola Cola, a male-to-female transsexual with a Betty Boop naughtiness and an early Streisand wig, and the father-son bond that evolved between Eads and Maxwell, a leprechaunish female-to-male transsexual with a protective hold on Eads that teetered between devoted and dysfunctional.

Eads's prized circle, which includes a few genetic female and male partners, comes together at the annual transgender support convention from which the movie takes its title. One is amazed at the level of intimacy that filmmaker Davis is able to achieve at this climatic juncture, as her subjects make out in hotel rooms, administer hormone injections, and debate the nature of intimacy. There is so much warmth and good cheer flowing between Robert Eads and company that you have to sympathize with Lola Cola when, posing the gang for a snapshot, she cajoles them with "Let's have some gravity!" This is one family portrait you're going to keep on the mantelpiece.

RELATED ARTICLE: Survivor too

Southern Comfort's Lola Cola shares a shocking tale that didn't make it into the documentary and talks about her life now

By Anne Stockwell

When the Sundance Film Festival's Grand Jury Prize for documentary went to Southern Comfort, director-producer Kate Davis accepted the award along with the surviving members of Robert Eads's chosen family. Among them was Lola Cola, the woman he spent his last year with. Back home after all the brouhaha, she talked with The Advocate about Southern Comfort, its joyous reception, and its message of hope for transgendered people.

What was the strangest thing about being at Sundance?

Being recognized on the street, having people yelling at me and calling my name.

Did it make you feel paranoid?

Not really, because I knew the context of it. If this was Atlanta and the same thing was happening, then I'd be paranoid.

What was the audience like at the Sundance screening?

There was a doctor there from Toccoa, Ga., who approached me afterward and said he was just appalled [about the treatment Eads suffered]. He apologized on behalf of the medical profession.

That's a day late and a dollar short.

Yeah. but it's better than nothing.

I'll tell you an anecdote that didn't make the film. After it became apparent that Robert was going to die, he was depressed. So he asked his doctor, would lie please prescribe this one medication that had helped him before. And the doctor said, "That's not my bag, so let's just send you over to the shrink." And the shrink tells hint, "Your real problem is that you are not dealing with the fact that you're really a woman"--and makes a move to have him committed [right then and there].

And there was, like, this brawl with cops and everything. [Robert] didn't get out of the office fast enough, and so he was, like, wrestling with these cops, and they dragged him down to the state hospital. Well, it turns out that one of the cops on the scene was gay and approached the director of the hospital and let her know what was going on, and she let Robert go.

When did Robert pass away?

January 17, 1999.

How long were you two involved?

I'd known him for several years, but we were involved romantically for the last year of his life.

It's obvious that he was well cared for by you and his friends.

He was well loved. He was never too busy, always made time for everyone, made everyone feel special. He was the most amazing person.

Why are doctors so afraid [to treat transsexuals]?

I don't really know. I attribute some of that to ignorance. It's not like there are all these evil doctors who are bigots and who have decided that they're not gonna treat trans people.

Could Robert have gone for treatment someplace more metropolitan?

Here's somebody who was on disability, he had limited income, so his choices were limited. He ended up finding somebody in Augusta, which was like a four-or five-hour drive. He loved the doctor, who was really kind to him and very supportive. But it was, like, just too late.

Is that how he got admitted to the hospice?

That was later. That was done locally. He was dying, and we had to do something.

Did you have trouble then?

No, the hospice was wonderful. They were nothing but kind to all of us and respectful.

Tell me about your partner these days.

I'm in a lesbian relationship. She had gone through all these gyrations with her parents to get them to understand and approve of her lesbianism, and now this. It's strange. I have yet to meet them, but they sound really great and like they want to meet me.

Is she a trans person also?

No.

Do you mind if I ask how old you are?

[Laughs] Yes!

Find more on Southern Comfort and links to related Internet sites at www.advocate.com

Stuart is film critic and senior film writer at Newsday.