Sunday, November 20, 2016

A Case of the Not Gays: Hollywood's Subtle Othering

On a rainy Sunday afternoon, my partner, idly browsing Netflix, chose to rewatch TROY. It had been over a decade for her, and nearly as long for me. After a few minutes, I decided to stay put and follow along: the broad acting, telegraphing all emotions for the peanut gallery by (mostly) expert thesps proved too tempting a pide bread to lie uneaten.

Any Hollywood movie set in Ancient Greece (or featuring Greeks) always comes with a bit of a disclaimer: it would be a long shot to ask modern audiences to empathize with characters who engage in educational (!) pederasty, or to face the disconnect that the FOUNDERS OF DEMOCRACY were guys who locked their wives up in the house never to be allowed out.

It's not just the Greeks this happens to: any culture from the past sufficiently alien to ours will experience a moral adaptation. Consider the inspiring Aragorn speech Elizabeth Swann gave to an assembled army of pirates regarding FREEDOM in the third PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN film. Mel Gibson in THE PATRIOT and his salary-receivin' black employees. KINGDOM OF HEAVEN features a 12th century Christian proclaiming on his deathbed that he repented all his sins but one... his illegitimate son who is also the film's protagonist. My friends, I hope you also howl at the idea of a 12th century man saying "I don't regret all my sins" on his deathbed!

On the one hand, I understand. Hollywood blockbusters aren't history lessons, and people just show up to be entertained. Asking someone to experience a -- to our modern eyes -- morally abhorrent culture and empathize with its people is perhaps a mental exercise too great for a relaxing date night.

However, what shouldn't be too out there for a modern day movie is to reflect the diversity of modern day society. It's hard, it's hard, we know. You gotta sell your movie to the fly-over states, to Russia, to China, to India, ... not exactly the most progressive territories. So ya gotta play it safe!

One of the most insidiously abhorrent ways modern movies "play it safe" is establishing a Case of the Not Gays for its male leads. "A Case of the Not Gays" is a term coined by Red Letter Media in their video review of JJ Abrams' Star Trek reboot. In it, they claim the romance between Spock and Uhura is shoehorned into this new continuity so as to dispel any notions that the logical, soft-spoken, page-boy sportin' Spock could possibly be a homosexual. With Kirk, they simply showed him mackin' on a green lady et voilà. Bones? Introduced complaining about his ex-wife! Do not worry my Iowan/Russian/Chinese central government friends... no debauchery here...

JACK REACHER introduces its Reddit fedora hero waking up next to a thong lady. She is an unnamed character who does not appear in the movie further. Reacher is kind of an asexual throughout the rest of it, even refusing sex at some point. But don't worry, he's not, you know...

TROY has Achilles waking up covered in wenches, to reassure everyone that although he's one of them Old Greeks and we're going to lovingly film his semi-naked waxed and oiled torso. But don't worry...

Establishing a Case of the Not Gays is especially evil in my opinion, as it manages the double whammy of objectification of women to serve the purpose of gay erasure. This movie may not feature this character in any sex or romance but believe us buddy he is nothing but straight! Look! A hot chick he just banged that will have no further bearing on the plot!

DR. STRANGE did it masterfully, as all relationships with any story-weight the main character has, are with men. Whoops, better toss in a chick cuz this guy already sorta looks like Liberace!

Like all things patriarchal, Establishing Notgays doesn't just hurt women and queer people, it's bad for cishet young lads as well. By making absolutely sure that every male protagonist in every mainstream movie is not only straight, but also a ladies man, but also monogamous when it "counts" aka when they are with the female lead, perpetuating the bullshit myth that there are "good" women and disposable ones.

Rare is the case where a female character is introduced having sex with an unimportant male character to establish her seduction/libido bonafides (one that comes to mind is Anya Amasova in THE SPY WHO LOVED ME -- that's right, James Bond, of all franchises) without having her be demonized somehow.

The solution? As ever, more women and queer people in decisions of creative power, producing stories where such folk have agency in the plot. But ayyy y'all probably already knew that.

Establishing Notgays: not just funny, actively evil! Please keep this in mind next time you see a movie. Bring it up in conversation. Be obnoxious about it when someone jokes that you're "overanalyzing" things, or you're being politically correct.

Don't back down, my friends.


Wednesday, November 16, 2016

The harsh light of scrutiny

When I first met my dear friend Travis Kirkland, there was but one conclusion I could draw. I drew it laughing, though with nothing but love in my heart as I did. The inescapable summation of our first encounter was this:

Travis is an American.

His nigh-Gilliamesque accounts of bacchanals at Denny's and Arby's and Wendy's, his encyclopedic knowledge of the Plastic Kingdom of Disney or Jim Henson's Creature Workshop and suchlike are just one side of that equation. His exuberance, his openness, his irreducible enthusiasm, his wonderful sense of humor and his kaiju-sized heart: All of those add up to a person I am honored to know and undeserving to call my friend.  And indeed, a quintessentially American one, no less.

Now, coming from a smug Eurotrash non-binary funny cigarette smokin' socialist, that might mean precious little upon first glance. However, before I became the unbearably ironic internet hipster you all know and love, I was, believe it or not, an earnest child. It's true!

The discovery of World War II narratives around the same time that Peter Jackson's LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy came out seemed like a cosmic serendipity solely intended to maximize my wide-eyed belief in absolute goodness vanquishing absolute evil. If there was any moral imperative inherent to all mankind, surely it was the duty to oppose hatred wherever it appeared.

And oh man, were Americans ever good at that. Nearly every story I grew up watching, reading, experiencing showed me a good old two-fisted blue-collar Joe with some common sense wisdom and witty banter out to stop the baddies who were just out to ruin everyone's good time and take their shit.

The world was essentially okay, but these assholes? Man, they just wanted to ice-skate uphill. Luckily, 90 minutes later, the Bad Things would more or less be removed from the equation and things would be Good again.

These stories were always outsized and simplistic and hilarious and reductive and awesome and, well, American.

"Esagerazione!" I remember my late grandfather exclaim at a toppling and exploding army truck in RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK, an altogether fairly small-scale gag in a -- by modern standards -- fairly subdued movie. This was over the top enough to have nonno exclaim "exaggeration"?

 It has always stood in my mind as the perfect juxtaposition of the Old World vs. the New. My European reality vs. the American fantasy: a raspy-voiced old workman expressing disdain at some guileless fireworks, a decadent entertainment far from the comfort of sausages, cigarettes and greasy playing cards. Any wonder young me chose to escape to the fireworks factory whenever possible?

 The 00s and the Iraq War did their damnedest to disabuse me of any notions of American exceptionalism, although I hope that the sheer weight of growing up brought some sense in itself.

In Garth Ennis' comic book Preacher, an old nazi war criminal in hiding in the small town of Salvation, TX says the myth of America is that she would be a place where everyone could shed their old grievances, their ridiculous hates and begin again.

"Under the harsh light of scrutiny, that myth is false. But it is a good myth to live up to."

Last week, America lifted a rock and shone the light of scrutiny upon a bed of diseased roaches who now scurry about in deluded victory, believing they have forever extinguished the light of decency from their shining city upon the hill.

Yesterday, a cancerous amoeba told my friend to "go back to his own country."

I say he's already there.

I say it is people like him, and all those Americans I am honored to know and count among my friends, that make up whatever fiction or collection of ideals made America that odd, irresistible, glorious melting pot people like me fell in love with.

Under the harsh light of scrutiny, the myth of America is false. No nation could withstand such idealism, arbitrary geographical constructs of an aristocratic 18th/19th century elite as they are.

It is only upon individuals that this light may shine and reveal not a stunted, wretched, hateful thing, but a reflection of ideals worthy of conservation.

To Travis, and to all of you, my friends across the pond, thank you for being just that.

Now join a union and hoist a placard.