Overall Quality 4.5 / 5.0 (fun, engaging story)
Gay Inclusive? Moderately – two secondary (but important) gay characters
Gay Positive? Very – both characters are well-rounded and fully fleshed-out

A supernatural (or urban fantasy) mystery adventure. Mercy Thompson is a sassy, free-spirited, and no-nonsense walker – that is, a shapeshifter who can transform easily from human to coyote, thanks to her Native American heritage. She lives in a world shared by werewolves, vampires, witches, and the fae (fairy spirits, ranging from gremlins to ogres to mythological monsters).

She has an uneasy but generally congenial relationship with the werewolf pack next door. In fact, she finds herself torn between the pack’s Alpha (Adam), and a former werewolf flame (Samuel). The romantic triangle is not resolved in this book – in fact, it’s not resolved until the end of Book 3.

The romance takes second place to the main story – a mysterious attack on Adam’s pack that leaves Adam on the verge of death and his (human) daughter Jesse kidnapped. Who would perpetrate such an attack? And why?

Briggs brings a lot of strengths to the book, including great characterizaton and a well-conceived alternate universe in which magic and supernatural creatures are real. The world-building (seeing how the supernatural elements fit into the “real” world) was just as interesting to me as the main plot. Briggs even manages to work a little social commentary into her world-building. The fae, for example, have recently been outed to the public, and most of them have been moved onto reservations.

Gay-wise, Adam’s pack includes a gay werewolf named Warren (who was a cowboy before he was turned), and his boyfriend Kyle. They are close friends of mercy’s, and both of them are sensible and helpful fellows with meaty parts in all three books.

A brief explanation why I included the negative stereotypes of heterosexism and gay without agency. The werewolf world is apparently even less accepting of gays than the normal world, and apparently Warren had a hard time of it until he was finally welcomed by Adam. Well, a harder time of it, because some of Adam’s other werewolves still do not deal well with him. It’s great that Adam is not prejudiced, and it paints his characters nicely, but it’s frustrating to see a gay man requiring a popular straight man’s “approval” to be accepted by the rest of the group.

I don’t weight these factors heavily, however. Yeah, I would have preferred if gayness were no big deal in the werewolf world. But even so, Warren and Kyle are two great characters, and Briggs (through protagonist Mercy) clearly cares about them. Major kudos to Briggs for writing them into the story, making them such great characters, and giving them some substantive scenes.

Story-wise, a minor complaint: the story weakens near the end. In part to increase tension, and in part to conclude the novel’s central mystery, the plot becomes convoluted and twisted as it winds to a conclusion. It’s a little hard to follow, and it throws the novel’s pacing off. Still, the author manages to end the book with a bang, and how’s this for a recommendation: I finished the book and immediately went out and bought the next two.

Overall Quality 4.0 / 5.0 (recommended)
Gay Content 2.0 / 5.0 (a couple of secondary gay characters)
Gay Positivity 4.0 / 5.0 (mostly positive)

Out of the supernatural (straight) romances I’ve read recently, Undead and Unwed is one of my favorites so far. It’s not great literature (none of them are), but all in all, it’s just a lot of fun.

Of course, it helps for me that this book has some actual gay content.

Betsy is an urban, modern, wise-cracking secretary. Until she dies. And then comes back as a vampire. In fact, she returns as the prophesied Queen of All Vampires, a job in which she is not interested. She’s an unusual specimen for a vamp – religious icons don’t affect her, sunlight doesn’t burn her, she can control her need to feed, and she just wants restore some semblance of normalcy to her “life.”

But an evil vampire named Nostro (AKA Fred), and a seductive one named Sinclair, try to sweep her into a giant vampire smackdown. Meanwhile, her sassy friend Jessica and new gay friend Marc try to help her out, but mostly just get in the way.

It’s a fast-paced and energetic story. Davidson’s take on vampires is pretty standard – everything from garlic to sunlight gets them, with the sole exception of protagonist Betsy, who’s as non-standard as vamp’s come. She’s a cool character – through her Davidson is able to spoof vampires and romances.

Unfortunately, she’s a one-note character. I liked that note – snappy, witty, and irreverent – enough to keep reading, but the book would have been much stronger if the author had imbued her with more emotional depth. Instead, it’s just non-stop sarcasm and humor.

For example, at one point Sinclair convinces Betsy to help him by bribing her with designer shoes. It’s funny to read Betsy’s shallowness play out, but it doesn’t endear her to me.

Sinclair, the romantic interest, is an intriguing character, but the romance subplot is inconsistent. (And be advised – the romance is definitely a secondary theme) A couple of scenes reveal Sinclair as a character worthy of the central romance, but other scenes do the opposite, and at the end I couldn’t tell if Sinclair wanted to get with Betsy because he genuinely loves her, or because he wants the status she conveys on him.

The central story is also undercooked. Most of the book is: Betsy becomes a vampire, and then humorously observes what it’s like to be a vampire. The central drama about the power play between Nostro, Sinclair, and Betsy is present from the beginning, but it sits on the back burner until near the end. I wish the author had introduced a few more compelling plot points, which in turn might have given the characters opportunities to reveal more emotional depth.

Over the course of the story, Betsy befriends a young gay doctor named Marc. Like all the characters, his character is not well developed, but he’s a nice guy.

It bothers me that Betsy meets Marc when he’s trying to commit suicide. It also bothers me that he seems to lack personal agency, which is the real issue underlying “The Gay Best Friend” stereotype. Within a day of meeting Betsy, he falls into her orbit. He has no personal motivation, interest, or goals. I see this less as a slur on gay people, and more as poor characterization.

In fact, particularly in this case, consider the demographic. Sure, I would like the gay character to have a beefier role and his own romantic interest, but I’m a gay guy. The contemporary woman at whom this novel is aimed, wants to see herself in Betsy’s Ferragamo’s, and probably has a close gay friend herself.

A lesbian vampire, Tina, also puts the moves on Betsy. Betsy is put off by the advance, but everything she said was in character, and overall I thought she handled the awkwardness quite well. Tina is one of the more stable characters. She has a sympathetic belief system, and I wish she had enjoyed a larger role.

Overall, a fun if fluffy, mostly gay-friendly read. I am just disappointed because it comes so close to being a really great story, but just misses the mark. Here’s hoping the series matures in the next volume or so.

Overall Quality 3.5 / 5.0
Gay Content 5.0 / 5.0
Gay Positivity 4.0 / 5.0

Homosexuality has a largely unhappy history in Western civilization. Thank God for men like Magus Hirschfeld (1868 – 1935), who stood up against prevailing conventional “wisdom,” and used science and basic respect to advance the cause of gay rights. Hirschfeld studied homosexuality scientifically; although we might disagree with some of his conclusions (he felt homosexuals were an “intermediate” sex), he dedicated his efforts to advocate on behalf of gay people.

The Einstein of Sex is a biopic which explores Hirschfeld’s life and work. The film is surprisingly engrossing. It’s fast-paced and well-acted, and it’s fascinating to watch the tension between Hirschfeld’s tireless work on behalf of other gay people with his inability to process his own homosexuality in a healthy way.

The props, set design, and cinematography also deserve special mention, especially considering the film is a low-budget independent feature. Each component contributes significantly to the film’s interest and success, and many scenes look like recreated photos from that era.

The film contains quite a bit of male nudity, but it never feels out of place. In a couple of scenes it comes close to gratuitousness, but it never crosses the line.

Unfortunately, the narrative structure undercuts the movie’s effectiveness. It’s choppy, rambling, and disjointed. “The Einstein of Sex” tries to cover too much territory:

• a biography spanning Hirschfeld’s entire personal life
• an ode to Hirscfeld’s work on behalf of gay rights
• a pseudo-documentary on the state of gay rights during that era

But this is a single movie, not a mini-series. As a result, everything gets underserved.

So while this film hasn’t earned a top-shelf slot in my DVD collection, I definitely recommend it for at least one viewing. It’s an entertaining slice of important homo-history that’s undertold.

The Gay Positivity score reflects that this movie covers a lot of negative territory ranging from gay-shame to gay-hate, but the central focus in on telling the story of someone who worked positively for gay rights with a tone of hopefulness for the future.

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For more information about Magnus Hirschfeld:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magnus_Hirschfeld
http://www.stonewallsociety.com/famouspeople/magnus.htm

(Please click for Part One of my review and analysis of “The Outcast.”

Thank You, Star Trek…

Let me start with the singular, but important, positive attribute of the show: It brought the issue of sexual bigotry into millions of homes, and made a plea for tolerance.

So before I launch into my criticisms, let me first say: thank you, Star Trek, for making this episode. I have a lot of problems with it, and I think the show could have done more, and better. But at the same time, I appreciate the episode being made at all.

Having said that, I must qualify my appreciation.

…For Stale Crumbs

Defamation by Invisibility

In Part One of this article, I noted other examples of gay content on TV around the time “The Outcast” was aired. I criticized the nature of the content in hindsight, but also recognized any mainstream representation was an improvement during that time period. In the same spirit, I appreciate The Next Generation making any kind of effort for the gay community.

But I have to stress, this show offers no gay content. It is pure allegory. Even when discussing romantic relationships, Riker and Dr. Crusher frame their comments in the context of heterosexual romance – how men and women deal with each other regarding attraction, sex roles, and sexuality. When discussing what men find attractive, Riker doesn’t offer a single phrase to the effect of, “And then some men are attracted to other men instead of women.”

Without some demonstration of inclusiveness, the episode isn’t inclusive at all. Instead, it suggests that gay people don’t exist in the 24th Century, at least not in Starfleet. They preach tolerance for diversity, but fail to demonstrate that value in practice.

Author Henry Jenkins writes:

”If allegory depends upon the readers’ abilities to fill its silences with their own voices, to complete the statements the text has left unfinished, the fans saw only the gaps and the evasions. Nowhere do any of the characters make explicit reference to the possibility of homosexuality nor do they directly confront homophobia. Homosexuality remains a connotative ghost, still that form of sexual desire that dares not speak its name [emphasis mine]…. What made this episode particularly dangerous was its insubstantiability [sic], its refusal to state directly and explicitly what its message was intended to be (6).”

It’s Just a Phase / Not Real / A Mental Illness

And then, the show posits that “deviant” sexuality can be cured, a stance taken by anti-gay activists. Even after Soren’s eloquent and moving plea for tolerance at her trial, the court still finds her guilty and sentences her to psychotectic therapy, which is successful. Riker tries to “rescue” her, but Soren rejects his advances and apologizes for creating such an unpleasant situation.

In effect (if not intent), the episode endorses the idea that sexual “deviants” can be “straightened out,” which will make them happier and more productive members of society. Both the American Psychological Association (8) and American Medical Association (9) take the position that reparative or conversion therapy may be harmful to the individual.

Furthermore, it implicitly supports the view of gay people as sexual predators who seek to convert others into “deviant” behavior. Yes, it’s supposed to a reverse allegory, which could be interpreted as heterosexual society demanding that gay people be “cured.” Probably, the viewer is supposed to leave the show thinking, “Wow, that’s awful what they did to poor Soren; we shouldn’t do stuff like that.”

It’s problematic, however, because J’naii society is used as an allegorical stand-in for both mainstream society and the gay community, and it is they who insist on the reparative therapy.

The Gay Villain

Atara Stein, an associate professor at Cal State University, Fullerton, writes:

“This episode could be read, of course, as a reverse allegory of discrimination against gays and lesbians, but the fact that it is reversed (the character’s rebellion consists of affirming heterosexuality) testifies to how careful Star Trek’s creators are to maintain a level of deniability. In addition, the androgynous species, presumably representative of gays and lesbians, turn out to be the bad guys, enforcing their ‘deviant’ sexuality by means of brainwashing [emphasis mine] (7).”

This aspect of the episode astounds me. The producers have gone on record offering this show as their token gesture to the gay community (even though there’s no actual gay content). But the society supposedly standing in for the gay community turns out to be villainous!

Once again, I wonder how much the final script varied from the original. A lot of people have input into the scripts (other writers and producers, studio approval, etc), and perhaps what was originally a fine story incrementally broke down into a series of mixed messages in order to appease a large group of less progressive people.

“Do As I Say, Not As I Do”

So the episode “The Outcast” makes a plea for tolerance of sexual diversity, while the show refuses to include any openly gay characters.

Worse, when they make an episode intended to placate their gay audience, not only is homosexuality omitted, it is also maligned through the subtext.

As Franklin Hummel, a member of the gay science-fiction group Gaylaxians, says:

“The depiction of Soren’s society seemed to be something taken right from Rush Limbaugh’s show or Pat Buchanan’s campaign literature. [They talk] about how the feminist and homosexual political agendas want to destroy the traditional family and make society into a sexless, genderless collection of politically correct clones, and if you don’t toe the line, you’ll be censored. Soren’s society was a depiction of those people’s worst nightmares. It seems to me that if you were of that mindset to begin with, this show did nothing but confirm those unfounded fears, and nothing to challenge them” (10).

I have tried to seek out its positive aspects (mostly that an episode recognizing gay concerns peripherally was even made). And I want to make one last point in this vein: while I criticize the producers for a homophobic episode, I also have to recognize that they’re creating a product to sell, and they have to appeal to their demographic.

Which means, the demographic itself shoulders some responsibility for the homophobic content of the show. I suspect if the fan base had responded with overwhelming outrage (or even just disdain) at the poor representation, future episodes would have been much more gay friendly.

I complain that this show sends a mixed message to its audience; I also suspect the producers receive mixed messages from the viewers in response to gay content as well. So if I’m going to accuse people of homophobia, with whom should I start?

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Soren’s argument against discrimination after she has been accused of being gendered:

“I am female. I was born that way. I have had those feelings, those longings, all of my life. It is not unnatural. I am not sick because I feel this way. I do not need to be helped. I do not need to be cured. What I need, and what all of those who are like me need, is your understanding. And your compassion. We have not injured you in any way. And yet we are scorned and attacked. And all because we are different. What we do is no different from what you do. We talk and laugh. We complain about work. And we wonder about growing old. We talk about our families and we worry about the future. And we cry with each other when things seem hopeless. All of the loving things that you do with each other – that is what we do. And for that we are called misfits, and deviants and criminals. What right do you have to punish us? What right do you have to change us? What makes you think you can dictate how people love each other?”

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For more posts on all things gay in the Star Trek universe, check out my Gay Star Trek Main Page.

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(6) John Tulloch and Henry Jenkins, Science Fiction Audiences: Watching Doctor Who and Star Trek, Routledge: 1995.

(7) Atara Stein, “Minding One’s P’s and Q’s: Homoeroticism in Star Trek: The Next Generation,” Genders Journal, Volume 27, 1998. The text of the article can be read here: http://www.genders.org/g27/g27_st.txt

(8) “APA Discredits ‘Ex-Gay’ Movement,” 365gay.com, 11 August 2006, http://www.365gay.com/Newscon06/08/081106apa.htm (retrieved 20 June 2008).

(9) “AMA Policy Regarding Sexual Orientation,” American Medical Association, last updated 24 April 2008, http://www.ama-assn.org/ama/pub/category/14754.html (retrieved 20 June 2008).

(10) Henry Jenkins, Fans, Bloggers, and Gamers, New York University Press: 2006 (pp. 106-7).

Original air date: 16 March 1992

Overall Quality 2.5 / 5.0 (not one of their finer efforts)
Gay Content 2.0 / 5.0 (it’s the closest they come to a gay episode, but it’s all allegory)
Gay Positivity 2. 0 / 5.0 (decidedly mixed, leaning towards negative)

“The Outcast” is one of the most important episodes in the Star Trek universe regarding the inclusion of gay content, and certainly the most important in The Next Generation. Note, however, that the episode includes no gay characters nor any gay relationships. The episode does not reference same-sex inclinations or pairings at all.

Plot Summary

The Enterprise is assisting the J’naii, a completely androgynous race, to track down a shuttle that’s gone missing. Commander Riker (Jonathan Frakes) works closely with a J’naii named Soren (Melinda Culea) to locate the shuttle, and Soren reveals that she is one of a minority of J’naii who was born with a gender identity…female, in her case. They begin a relationship, but J’naii society considers gender identity a sickness, and those who “suffer” from it are subject to psychotectic (i.e., reparative) therapy.

Jeri Taylor, who worked as a producer on the series, wrote the episode. Taylor is probably the most gay-friendly of all the producers associated with the Star Trek franchise (1).

The Strengths & Weaknesses

Commenting solely on the quality of episode, it’s a mixed bag. I found the exploration of an androgynous race to be thought-provoking. It seems unlikely that all alien species would reproduce through sexual dimorphism, and some form of asexual reproduction strikes me as a likely alternative.

But after Soren reveals she’s part of a persecuted minority, the episode changes tone into an issue-driven storyline.

The good part: she makes an intelligent, impassioned, and articulate argument against prejudice, and it’s easy to make the jump from the issue being gender identity to sexual orientation. I have included the full text of her argument at the end of Part Two of this article.

The bad part: delving into an issue-of-the-week story introduces an artificial feel to the plot, and forces the characters to become mouthpieces. That in turn alienates the viewer from the story, and the viewer becomes aware of the episode as a narrative with an agenda. It feels heavy-handed and forced, and it’s just less engrossing and enjoyable.

I wonder how much the final product diverged from Taylor’s original script. Taylor has proven herself a talented writer at other points, and I question whether the same or a similar message could have been conveyed through a more organic and engaging story.

It doesn’t help that the plot contains a series of contrivances. Why is Riker working on the project, and piloting the shuttle, instead of Geordi or Data? Because he needs to be working closely with Soren to develop feelings for her; screw the chain of command! Why would Worf make a blatantly sexist comment, and neither Doctor Crusher nor Counselor Troi get in his face about it? That’s out of character for all three. It’s because the script needs to make a point about gender and sexism, and they are the tools through which it’s done. But it’s jarring, and once again forces the viewer out of the story.

The Gay Content

Let’s place this episode in context. The year is 1992 (over 15 years ago from the date of this writing). In 1991, the sitcom Roseanne introduced a regular gay character, Leon (played by Martin Mull), which was extremely progressive at the time. Also in 1991, the red ribbon made its debt as a symbol of the campaign to stop AIDS.

Ellen wouldn’t come out until 1997, and Will & Grace wouldn’t premiere until 1998. Philadelphia, Brokeback Mountain’s spiritual precursor, wouldn’t open until 1993.

The major shows with gay characters or content in 1992 included: Roseanne, Northern Exposure, The Simpsons, One Life to Live, The Real World New York (the premiere season), and Melrose Place.

All of these shows were cutting-edge in their inclusion of gay characters or stories, and many fell far short of ideal. For example, Matt (Doug Savant) on Melrose Place was basically a genital-less Ken doll. Billy Douglas (Ryan Philippe) on One Life to Live was a troubled teen struggling with his sexuality in a homophobic environment.

Still, they all occurred at a time when any kind of representation on network TV was a step up from invisibility. And I think it’s important to remember that when considering “The Outcast.”
Expectations and Disappointment

Star Trek: The Next Generation’s two major mistakes were (A) trying to be inclusive by making homosexuality itself the story, and (B) including homosexuality only through allegory. The episode, on a literal level, isn’t gay inclusive at all.

Rick Berman says in Star Trek: The Next Generation Companion,

“We thought we had made a very positive statement about sexual prejudice in a distinctively Star Trek way, but we still got letters from those who thought it was just our way of ‘washing our hands’ of the homosexual situation” (2).

I suspect the producers thought that gay people wanted a “gay episode.” In the early days of gay inclusion on TV, that’s about the most we could hope for: that one episode that might revolve around gay themes, such as the gay wedding on Northern Exposure.

But that’s not really what gay and gay-friendly Star Trek viewers desired. Rather, they wanted full-throttle inclusion in the Star Trek universe. They wanted to see themselves portrayed within Starfleet, not necessarily as objects about which a story is told, but as part of the social milieu in which the stories are told. Gene Roddenberry’s 1991 comment only fueled the desire:

“My attitude toward homosexuality has changed. I came to the conclusion that I was wrong. I was never someone who hunted down ‘fags’ as we used to call them on the street. I would, sometimes, say something anti-homosexual off the top of my head because it was thought, in those days, to be funny. I never really deeply believed those comments, but I gave the impression of being thoughtless in these areas. I have, over many years, changed my attitude about gay men and women” (3).

Note that Roddenberry also told The Advocate that the fifth season of The Next Generation would include gay crew members (4). His comments raised hopes and expectations for gay inclusion, but I suspect a comment made by Ronald Moore in 1997 summarized the prevailing attitude in 1991:

“We have no plans to [include gay characters], chiefly because dealing with one’s sexual orientation in Gene’s 24th century is kinda simple: ‘Hey, Captain, I think I might be gay.’ ‘Okay. Now get back to fixing those transtators.’ It’s not really an issue to these people, so ‘exploring’ it doesn’t hold much promise” (5).

In other words, if a character’s sexual orientation is not explicitly and specifically germane to the plot, why bother addressing it at all? This homophobia is unintentional, the product of missing the point; but it still renders the gay person an outcast from the Star Trek universe. What an ironic title for this episode then.

But I digress from the show itself.

Please click for Part Two of my analysis of “The Outcast.”

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(1) It is said that Taylor suggested that Seven of Nine (Jeri Ryan) on Star Trek: Voyager should be a lesbian, although this idea was discarded. She also wrote a couple of important Star Trek: Voyager novels, including Pathways, which included secondary gay characters.

(2) Larry Nemecek, Star Trek: The Next Generation Companion, Pocket Books: 1992.

(3) David Alexander, “Interview with Gene Roddenberry: Writer, Producer, Philosopher, Humanist,” The Humanist, March/April 1991. The text can be read here: http://67.104.146.36/english/STAR_TREK/humanistinterview/humanist.html (retrieved 11 June 2008).

(4) Joe Clark, “Star Trek: The Next Generation – Queer Characters Join the Enterprise Crew,” The Advocate, 27 August 1991. The text of the article can be read here: http://www.webpan.com/dsinclair/advocate.html (retrieved 11 June 2008).

(5) “Answers,” Star Trek News, 16 July 1997, http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/6952/ron41.txt (retrieved 11 June 2008).

Overall 4.0 / 5.0 (recommended for fans of the series)
Gay Content 2.0 / 5.0 (three minor gay characters)
Gay Positivity 4.0 / 5.0

Welcome to The Canterbury Tales meets Star Trek: Voyager. The central story posits that aliens capture the Voyager command crew (with the exception of Captain Janeway and the Doctor – must be lonely on the Voyager bridge) while on an away mission. The aliens take the crew to a prison camp.

Through the process of planning their escape, Chakotay, Tuvok, Tom Paris, B’Elanna, Neelix, and even Kes tell their personal stories leading up to their involvement with the initial Voyager mission, before the ship got lost in the Delta Quadrant.

Quick note – the story is set after Kes’s departure from the ship, and shortly after Seven of Nine’s arrival.

The individual stories make for fascinating and illuminating reads. Taylor enjoys a clever and engaging writing style. It would be easy to lose momentum in a novel like this, but the author manages a brisk pace through a series of unique stories that range from moving to revealing to amusing. The individual stories certainly outshine the more prosaic and implausible imprisonment/escape plot.

A word of warning – these stories will probably hold little interest for anyone who doesn’t know the characters from the TV series.

The book includes three minor gay characters. George Mathers is Harry Kim’s roommate from Starfleet Academy. He has an unrequited crush on Harry, who responds to the situation with grace and compassion: “An immense wave of friendship, of caring and concern and, yes, of love, swept over Harry” (115). It’s mildly disappointing to see a gay character fall in love with an unavailable straight guy (I’d much rather see a successful gay romance), but I’m thrilled with both the inclusion and Harry’s response.

Meanwhile, Noah Mannick and Brad Harrison are part of the Voyager crew stranded in the alien prison camp. They have “only recently become a couple” (176). One frustrating aspect of their relationship: at one point Noah suffers from severe cramps, probably the result of contaminated drinking water. Then we never hear about him again.

So was Noah okay? Did he and Brad make it back to the ship? The novel doesn’t tell us either way. Unfortunately, Noah and Brad are very minor characters, present more to flesh out the situation and, perhaps, demonstrate some gay inclusiveness. To that end, once again, I am delighted to find them present in the novel. I just wish we had seen more of them.

On the whole, could she have done better by the gay characters? Sure: they could have enjoyed beefed up roles, with more compelling subplots of their own, or at least a bigger role to play in the overarching story, and positive endings. Nevertheless, I’m happy to find them at all. Star Trek: Voyager has been one of the least gay-inclusive iterations of the Star Trek franchise, so I’m glad that gay people are represented somewhere in the Voyager universe.

As an interesting side-note, fictional Star Trek novels are not usually considered canon, or official. But Jeri Taylor wrote Pathways (along with Mosaic, which details Captain Janeway’s personal back-story) to provide reference material for the show’s main characters. She specifically intended the books to be canon. We never see Noah or Brad on the show, but presumably they’re in there somewhere. IMDB.com does indicate a Crewman Noah Lessing (played by Rick Worthy).

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For more posts on all things gay in the Star Trek universe, check out my Gay Star Trek Main Page.

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The movie derives most of its drama from the protagonist’s difficulty in accepting his own homosexuality, and from the fag-bashing of his boyfriend, bringing the Gay Positivity score down.

Taking a hit on the “Positivity” scale doesn’t mean the quality of the film was bad. It’s just that most images of gay people in the media (movies, TV, and books) are negative, involving discrimination, beatings, disease, death, and other tragedies. That is not to say these things don’t happen in real life, but the sheer volume of these negative images, in my opinion, reinforces the already strong but false notion that if you’re gay, it automatically follows that either bad things will happen to you, or you ARE bad. The “Positivity” scale is intended to indicate to the potential viewer where the movie falls in this spectrum.

This movie has a sweetness to it, and ends well, so I would say it is more positive than not, but it is nevertheless one of the pool of movies that focuses on the negativity of being gay (the trauma of accepting, gasp, oh my god, how horrible, I might be gay! as well as a vicious assault on a gay person).

The acting is a bit wooden at points, but there’s an earnestness to the performances (especially the protagonist Griff, portrayed by Daniel Chilson) that make the characters endearing and engaging. In fact, despite the heaviness of the storyline (this is no comedy, folks), the script is relatively low-key in its presentation, and the film rarely falls into melodrama.

And as I mentioned, there is also a tenderness to this movie that makes it very re-watchable (I’ve seen it two or three times now). Also, although I personally tend to prefer happy gay movies (rare though they are), I recognize the importance of telling stories like this one.

I particularly enjoyed the scene when Griff (Chilson) and his best friend are on a mountaintop reflecting – the bonding between the friends, Griffs positive self-realization, and the tantalizing and brief flashback create a thoughtful scene that exceeds the sum of its parts. These factors give the film most of its points in the “Quality” category. Otherwise, the movie is a bit more pedestrian – decently scripted, directed, and acted without being truly standout.

Just your average boy-meets-girl, girl-sends-boy-on-impossible-quest, boy-meets-fallen-star-who’s-a-girl, boy-falls-in-love-with-star, what’s-a-boy-to-do kind of fairy tale.

Specifically, a star named Yvaine (Claire Danes) falls into Stormhold, a magical realm completely contained within England. Our hero Tristan (Charlie Cox) promises to retrieve the fallen star for Victoria (Sienna Miller) in order to win her hand in marriage. But others also seek the star for more sinister purposes. The fratricidal sons of a recently deceased king want the enchanted gemstone that knocked poor Yvaine out of the sky, because the heir who retrieves it becomes the next king. Additionally, a fantastically sinister witch (Lamia, played by Michelle Pfeiffer) desires the star with the hope of cutting out Yvaine’s heart and eating it, and thereby gaining immortality and renewed youth.

The diverse plot threads interweave – and coalesce at the finale – organically, poetically, and cleverly. The screenplay, direction, and cinematography demonstrate a gestalt effect wherein the result is greater than the sum of the parts. Altogether, “there is a narrative flow that makes you want to be swept along” (1). Kudos to Matthew Vaughn (director and screenwriter), Jane Goldman (screenwriter), Ben Davis (cinematography), and Gavin Bocquet (production design)! The magnificent and sweeping imagery of the movie, and the dramatic musical score by Nan Eshkeri, serve to accentuate the mythicality of the tale, and lend an epic feel to the fairy tale.

The actors contribute to the gestalt effect and help the story shine. Michelle Pfeiffer is radiant in her role as evil witch Lamia. She provides depth and humanity to an otherwise cartoonish, classic fairy tale villain, and her own enjoyment of playing the character comes through. She owns every scene in which she appears. And my goodness, she has aged gracefully and gorgeously!

Claire Danes has certainly grown up (into Gwyneth Paltrow) since her days on the TV series “My So-Called Life.” Her attempt at an English accent threw me at first, but she brings a soft-edged sarcasm to Yvaine that I enjoy. The unusual character makes for a challenging role; and although there are some miscues, on the whole Danes navigates the role ably.

In fact, she and the adorable Charlie Cox enjoy an easy on-screen chemistry that makes their love story believable and adds texture to the film. Cox plays Tristan as a sweet-natured, endearing, fumbling lad who grows into a good-natured, heroic, and dashing protagonist.

Thematically, the metaphor-rich, mythic movie has a lot going for it. Most obviously, “Stardust” is a love story that also asks what true love means. Common fairy tale form demands that the hero go on an epic quest in order to win the heart of his true love. But “Stardust” posits that true love demands nothing in return: no quests, no prizes, no proof.

Furthermore, “Stardust” emphasizes the importance of looking past the surface. Nothing is quite what it seems; and in the realm of Stormhold, that truism is taken to extremes! No character turns out to be what they seem. The story allows various characters to reach inside and find their true selves; it also forces exposure of the characters trying most desperately to be what they’re not. “Each character undergoes a transformation that reveals his or her hidden, truer self, and potential for both good and for evil” (2).

That being said, the movie misses some wonderful opportunities to probe more deeply by tending toward the lowest-common-denominator presentation of many of its characters (more on this shortly), and failing to stray too far from fairy tale convention. “Stardust” is a quirky tale in many ways, innovative in a few, but revolutionary in none. Perhaps we will someday have a fairy tale that is unmistakably contemporary in tone and texture, if not content, but “Stardust” is not that tale.

Still, “Stardust” is a fantastic, lovely story. “While many big stars grace the cast, the film’s real star is the sense of wonder and boundless possibility that [this] magical world creates: [that] even a country boy can become a dashing hero and find true love with a fallen star” (3). The movie is sweet and charming, with feel-good positive messages, and awe-inspiring presentation. “Stardust” will appeal most to those who enjoy love stories and/or fantasy tales. Otherwise, its charms probably won’t have much sway over the viewer.

The film may well have a difficult time finding an audience. In fact, the movie should have done better box office thus far. But “Stardust” has received relatively little publicity, and the studio seems uncertain how to market it. And even though it’s based on a work by well-known and respected author Neil Gaiman, neither he nor the book have the name recognition of many other book-based fantasy films. It’s unjust that “Eragon” (2006) did better box office in its first few weeks than this beautiful story.

“Stardust” is probably more comparable to “The Princess Bride” (1987), or perhaps “Willow” (1988). Many reviews have noted the comparisons. Both “The Princess Bride” and “Willow” are unconventional fairy tales which didn’t find a core audience until release on video and DVD, after which they achieved cult followings. Indeed, the similarity is particularly striking between “Stardust” and “The Princess Bride,” which share a narrative style, light-hearted approach, and true-love story.

But an important difference separates the two: “The Princess Bride” benefits from a relentless sense of humor that helps broaden its attraction; it’s as much comedy as fantasy. Along those lines, “The Princess Bride” eschews the conventions of fantasy and fairy tales in favor of skewering them with satire. While “Stardust” doesn’t take itself seriously (it’s just a fun movie, and knows it), the fantasy emphasis, relatively conventional fairy tale form, and lack of a comedy-all-the-way vibe narrows the demographic appeal.

I have tried to do my part, though. I saw it first on a Friday, and then went again the following Sunday. I’ve talked this movie up to anyone who will listen. And I’ll be first in line to buy the DVD. Let me state it plainly: unless you hate fantasy or love stories, watch this movie!

That is not to say the film is perfect. Minor inconsistencies pop up repeatedly, likely stemming from the adaptation and condensation of the book. Then there are two things about this movie I simply don’t like. Well, more precisely, one thing I don’t like and another about which I have mixed emotions.

I don’t like the sexism of the film. It’s very conventional regarding sex roles. All the women in the film fall into one of two distinct categories: damsel in distress requiring rescue, or evil hag. These folks would probably have a heart attack if they ever met Xena the Warrior Princess.

True, Yvaine has a dramatic moment at the film’s climax, “and it would seem for a moment that women’s agency has been recovered and the gender story of the movie has been somewhat redeemed. But then Tristan asks her why she didn’t use her special powers earlier in the story. Her answer, ‘I can’t shine without you’” (4). The only women who exercise personal agency, power, and/or independence, are evil.

The sexism creeps into other areas as well. For example, Captain Shakespeare (Robert De Niro) teaches Tristan how to swordfight and be a pirate, while teaching Yvaine how to dance and play the piano. Not to mention that when he dresses the two, he directs Yvaine to the silky gowns, because those are of course the most sensible clothes for cross-country adventuring.

Apparently the sexism doesn’t bother too many women, though. As mentioned, I’ve seen the movie twice. I had two female companions my age at the first viewing, and they walked out of the theater chatting wistfully about meeting prince charming someday. My mother saw the movie with me the second time, and I explicitly asked her if the sexism bothered her, and she said, no, it’s just like any old-style fairy tale.

For myself, I agree with Debbie from the blog Body Impolitic: “Lots of fairy tales are like that: 21st century ones don’t have to be, and shouldn’t be” (5).

I understand the book (which I have not read) is much more nuanced regarding characters and relationships. It would seem the movie sacrifices shades of gray for black-and-white, and takes a reductionist approach to all its characters by fitting them into familiar, conventional roles.

Which brings me to the other item, about which I have mixed emotions: the gay content. It’s never explicitly spelled out that one character is gay, so I’ll put it in the “gay vague” category, but it’s pretty obvious what the filmmakers intended. The portrayal is more disappointing than insulting, and decidedly mixed: kudos for inclusivity and friendly treatment; scorn for negative stereotypes.

(WARNING – Moderate Spoiler as I discuss the gay content and positivity in greater detail)

Robert De Niro plays Captain Shakespeare, a pirate with a fearsome reputation who aids Tristan and Yvaine. In fact, his role is absolutely crucial in the movie and impacts multiple subplots. But he has a secret softer side.

Again, it’s never established clearly that he’s gay. He may merely be a mincing transvestite. But in Hollywood, that’s usually code for gay. The stunt casting of De Niro for this role, and his completely over the top performance, does prompt some laughter, but sometimes it was the kind of chuckling that’s half because it’s funny, and half because I-can’t-believe-he-just-did-that. As Orson Scott Card says, the laughs he earns are “hearty but cheap, like a character in a lowbrow sketch-comedy show. I’m not saying it’s not funny; I’m just saying it doesn’t fit in this
movie” (6).

The aspect of the character that bothers me the most is his ultimate lack of agency, which defies the logic of the story. Captain Shakespeare teaches Tristan how to fence. At the beginning of the movie, Tristan tests his fencing skills, and turns out to suck hardcore at it. After Shakespeare’s done with him, he’s a master with a blade. And yet, when Shakespeare himself is later threatened by Prince Septimus (Mark Strong), he’s completely at the mercy of his aggressor. What?!

Oh, right, I forgot. Because gay men are weak, of course, and couldn’t possibly overpower a straight man. In fact, Tristan’s training ends with his requisite victory over Captain Shakespeare, followed later by Prince Septimus completely overpowering Shakespeare, who then must be rescued like the aforementioned damsel in distress.

I do see some off-setting factors that make the gay positivity mixed rather than purely negative.

1. The inclusivity. Frankly, “Stardust” has broken new ground by including even a “gay vague” character. It’s a wide-release, fantasy-genre, fairy tale-style, family-friendly movie with gay content in it. It speaks poorly of the gay-friendliness of the fantasy genre at large that such inclusion should be remarkable. But there it is, and for this particular film, I have to say kudos. I really do appreciate the gay element, even if it is minor and clichéd. I feel frustrated being so grateful for crumbs, but considering other fantasy movies give the gay community nothing, I have to take what I can get. And the inclusion has a gay-friendly vibe to it. Largely because…
2. …the character is a good guy, and the script and story treat him sensitively (relatively speaking). His crew ultimately accepts and embraces him, even though they always knew he was “woopsie.” And Captain Shakespeare aids the protagonists tremendously, imparting wisdom, important skills, and saving their lives. It could be argued the character serves as reminder that even effeminate guys can be commanding and possess warriorly skills; Tristan starts the movie as a very poor fencer, and it’s Captain Shakespeare who teaches him the impressive and successful swordplay he later employs.
3. The film even implies a happy ending for Captain Shakespeare, as he flirts with a handsome lad during the movie’s denouement. Or, as AfterElton.com phrases it: “Hot fop action” (7)!
4. The subplot is thematically rich. If they’re going to be clichéd about it, they might as well mine the stereotypes for as much meaning as they can. And happily, they do. The role provides a nice point-counterpoint to the whole gender role issue, to reputation versus being true to oneself, and to the outside mask versus the internal truth.

Of additional gay interest:  Rupert Everett has a minor role,  and Ian McKellen narrates.

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(1) Ebert, Roger. “Stardust.” Chicago Sun-Times.
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20070809/R EVIEWS/70710009/1023, 10 August 2007 (5 September 2007). Please note, I am quoting a positive line from Ebert, but I don’t want to misrepresent his review: he gave the movie a decidedly lukewarm reception.

(2) Tubbs, Gregg. “Movie Review: Stardust.” UMC.org.
http://www.umc.org/site/c.lwL4KnN1LtH/b.3090985/k.72C0/Movie_Review_Stardust.htm (5 September 2007) More than a review, Tubbs’ piece aims to stimulate discourse on the deeper meaning of the movie.

(3) Ibid.

(4) Debbie. “Neil Gaiman’s Stardust: Evil Crones, Decorative Maidens, and One Shackled Mother.” Body Impolitic. 12 August 2007. http://laurietobyedison.com/discuss/?p=417 (5 September 2007)

(5) Ibid.

(6) Card, Orson Scott. “Stardust: the book and the movie.” Uncle Orson Reviews Everything. 12 August 2007. http://www.hatrack.com/osc/reviews/everything/2007-08-12.shtml (5 September 2007).

(7) Juergens, Brian. “Stardust? More Like Fairydust!” AfterElton.com Best. Gay. Week. Ever. 16 August 2007. http://www.afterelton.com/bgwe/08-17-07?page=0%2C3 (5 September 2007).

Propsero lives in a veritable garden of Eden with his daughter Freia, but inwardly he seethes: his brother Avril took the crown that Prospero felt is rightfully his. The story begins with Prospero planting the seeds of a rebellion to seize the throne. Into the story wanders a powerful but strange sorcerer named Dewar with secret connections to both sides.

Hm. I’m actually making the book sound more interesting than it really is. I found the plot uninventive and formulaic, with the only surprises (most notably Dewar’s connection to Prospero’s interests) seeming contrived. The language didn’t help: Prospero and a few other characters speak something that I can only call pseudo-Shakespearean, which interrupted the flow and pace of the story.

But the real failing of the novel are the characters. I simply don’t care about any of them, and I dislike more than a few. But even those I dislike don’t engender enough passion for me to, at minimum, admire them as villains. In fact, I wonder if the clear lack of a villain hobbled the story. I suppose the author intended Avril the Emperor as the central antagonist; but he plays a relatively small role, mostly off-stage. Prospero is certainly no more likeable, but Willey can’t seem to decide if she wants to reader to root for, or against, Prospero.

At any rate, lacking a worthy adversary, perhaps protagonist Dewar never really has a chance to shine. As it is, Dewar is lackluster. It doesn’t help that he makes a couple of morally questionable choices. Additionally, the book is filled with all kinds of subtle inconsistencies. For example, Prospero supposedly loves his daughter dearly, but he’s consistently mean and demeaning to her. Now, if the story had centered around Freia escaping the yoke of a sexist, manipulative, controlling father bent on world domination – that might have been interesting.

Additionally, the introduction of the book is jarring – it focuses on Prince Josquin as though he’s the protagonist, but then he turns out to be a very minor character. The tone of the book is also inconsistent. The story mostly reads like high fantasy, a happy-go-lucky tale (which matches Dewar’s happy-go-lucky attitude) in a Medieval-esque setting with magical elements.

But then the story would dip into very dark territory, most notably with a couple of violent assaults on women. Dark fantasy can make for compelling reading if handled well (see George R. R. Martin for evidence), but Willey doesn’t seem to have the stomach for it – the story would diverge into a darker area, usually offstage, only to return to the high fantasy tone. The darker elements make for an uncomfortable fit into an otherwise lighter story.

The ending is also underwhelming and certainly poorly foreshadowed: a whole lot of buildup for not much payoff.

The story does contain some gay content in the person of Prince Josquin. The story opens with the Prince being ensorcelled by a mysterious, handsome man, and it’s made perfectly clear that the Prince is quite fond of the company of handsome men. Ahem. But then it’s revealed later that his dalliance with the mysterious stranger was perfectly chaste. Go figure.

Unfortunately, Prince Josquin is not terrible impressive. He has no personal agency; he goes where and does what others tell him. But then, he doesn’t seem to have any particular goals of his own, nor the strength of will to pursue any. The narrative also implies that he’s irresponsibly promiscuous, as when his uncle warns him against “fraternizing” with the soldiers. It’s also stated fairly explicitly that he’s borderline incompetent, especially in manly endeavors like war. In fact, I see similarities in Josquin’s relationship with his family and Freia’s relationship with her father. If Freia and Jos had been built up as characters more, it might have been interesting to see those relationships play out in tandem.

Overall, I’m not impressed. But I am frustrated. Despite all my criticisms, I see a lot of potential in this story. A tighter narrative, more elaborately contoured characters, different emphases, and I think “A Sorcerer and a Gentleman” might have made a fascinating read.