Actually, it’s not so funny. It’s hard to put my finger on it, but I think it comes down to, the humor feels like they’re laughing at us, not with us.

Brian Juergens at AfterElton.com stated it nicely:

Rampant dated gay stereotypes (hairdressing! fashion! lisps!)? Check. Predatory gay sexuality? Check. Straight white men running around beating gay men in the face with shovels as “comedy”? Check.

The thing is, these guys probably think that they’re being “irreverent” and “daring” by making this. Maybe they’re not homophobic at all. But if so, they’re also apparently too stupid or insensitive to realize that what they’ve created isn’t sending up stereotypes, it’s reenforcing them. And I honestly don’t know which is worse: a “filmmaker” who has a blatantly anti-gay agenda, or a “filmmaker” who is so utterly incompetent in the crafts of storytelling and satire that they don’t realize that what they’re creating is toxic crap.

In the comments, friday13fan has a similar but more measured reaction:

If they would have avoided the limp-wristed stereotypes for the zombies, it would have been more of a funny comment on straight paranoia–how many people think that people can actually be “converted” or what-not. Even more clever would have been to have parents locking their children in closets to protect them from the conversion (and stuff like that). Zombies are great for revealing the absurdity in all types of behavior. So, I don’t think Gay Zombies fails there, but it fails in that it doesn’t make explicit the absurdity of the stereotypical traits that it exploits. To me, guys necking with white makeup would have been enough to sell that they were gay! I think it’s a little hyperbolic to say that the filmmakers are utterly incompetent and creating toxic crap, but I do see where you’re coming from. They could have done much better.

Original airdate: 3 February 1999

Overall 4.0 / 5.0 (entertaining; I always get a kick out of the alternate universe episodes)
Gay Content 2.0 / 5.0
Gay Positivity 1.5 / 5.0

Grand Nagus Zek (Wallace Shawn), leader of the Ferengi people, is trapped in Star Trek’s alternate universe, where the Federation does not exist. To free him, Quark (Armin Shimerman) and Rom (Max Grodénchik) must steal and deliver a cloaking device to the Regent of the evil Alliance (the alternate Worf, Michael Dorn).

In the alternate universe, Kira (Nana Visitor) is both evil and bisexual (well, more precisely, she’s a sexual opportunist). She is, in fact, the classic vision of the stereotypical evil lesbian.

Norman Mailer has written that he believed at one time

“‘that there was an intrinsic relation between homosexuality and ‘evil.” It was a time when homosexuality could be used as a plot device to reduce exposition and simplify motivation. To contemporary screenwriters and movie makers, who have much less time for exposition than most novelists, the device still works” (1).

Alternate-Kira is involved in a lesbian relationship with Alt-Ezri Dax (Nicole de Boer). Alt-Ezri starts out as a greedy, amoral, and self-serving pirate; but she manages to develop a conscience by the end of the episode. In fact, at the tail end of the episode, she and Alt-Leeta (Chase Masterson) flirt with each other. Alt-Leeta appears to belong to the Rebels, who are the good guys in the alternate universe.

If it weren’t for Alt-Ezri’s change of heart and Alt-Leeta’s presence, I’d really be excoriating this episode! It’s still fairly gay-negative, though.

I have two major complaints.

First, the villainy of the gay characters: Alt-Kira is unrelentingly evil, and even though Alt-Ezri seems to turn a corner, she’s otherwise duplicitous and amoral during the episode. Even when her close friend Alt-Brunt (Jeffrey Combs) is killed, she hardly bats an eye. The story portrays her as a cold, unfeeling bitch.

If there were positive gay characters to counter-balance this kind of portrayal, I admit I’d still probably complain about it … “Oh, that old gay villain stereotype popped up again on Deep Space Nine, I wonder what they were thinking” … but I wouldn’t be accusing them of homophobia.

Imagine that Dr. Bashir (Alexander Siddig) were a gay character but all his story-lines remained largely the same. Since he’s an important, helpful, and occasionally heroic figure on the show, I would have to weigh a single episode utilizing a negative stereotype against seven seasons of positive portrayal. But that positive portrayal isn’t there. The handful of other occurrences of gay themes are either minor or negative themselves.

So we’re left with a show that seems to posit that homosexuality is bad; that homosexual characters do bad things. “Their existence in the evil mirror universe, and the simultaneous absence of positive gay characters in our universe makes an unmistakable statement that same-sex attraction has no place in a positive vision of the future” (2).

Second, the lesbianism does not reflect a genuine effort to be gay-inclusive. The show is pandering to the worst instincts of an adolescent fan-boy fantasy.

The lesbianism is hinted at early in the episode, but only fully revealed with a surprise kiss between Kira and Ezri that is clearly intended to be shocking and titillating. “It’s only intention seems to stimulate the straight-male fantasy of woman-on-woman action” (3).

In my analysis of “The Host” from Star Trek: The Next Generation, I try to look on the bright side. Even though the overall exclusion of gay people from the vision of Star Trek is disappointing and offensive, I appreciate even subtle or minor inclusion as a step forward. But “The Host” aired in 1991. “The Emperor’s New Cloak” takes place two Star Trek series and eight years later. If this is the kind of portrayal the Star Trek franchise is evolving toward, it’s heading in the wrong direction.

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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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(1) John Weir, “FILM; Gay-Bashing, Villainy and the Oscars,” The New York Times, 29 March 1992, http://query.nytimes.com/gst/fullpage.html?res=9E0CE4D81E31F93AA15750C0A964958260&sec=&spon=&pagewanted=all (retrieved 30 May 2008)

(2) David Sinclair, “Gay, Lesbian & Bisexual Characters on Star Trek – a 12-year saga of deceit, lies, excuses and broken promises,” 19 October 2003, (retrieved 30 May 2008).

(3) Michael Ricci, “Forbidden Gay Frontier: Where Star Trek Hasn’t Boldly Gone,” AfterElton.com, 20 April 2006, http://www.afterelton.com/archive/elton/TV/2006/4/startrek3.html (retrieved 30 May 2008).

(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).

Ugly, brutish, and more than a little dumb. If that describes your perfect film, knock yourself out. As for myself, I am underwhelmed.

On the bright side, I thought the cinematography was surprisingly well done for a low budget movie. The grittiness meshed well with the material. The principal actors, particularly Bret Roberts as Travis and Brian Austin Green (yeah, that one) as Jacko, did great jobs with their role. Green in particular lent a natural believability to his role, even when the script itself was wooden.

Travis is an aspiring boxer with hopes of moving to Vegas as a professional. His best friend, Jacko, is a mildly psycho and hugely homophobic loser. The main thrust (ahem) of the film lies in how homophobia in the run-down, urban setting plays out in their lives.

Unfortunately, the plot has a couple of serious flaws. For example, it’s too small a movie spread over too long a time. In other words, the movie begs for tighter writing and editing. I’d almost argue the basic story is better suited to a short film: a shorter format would force the filmmaker to be clearer, more concise, and more focused on the central theme of the movie, without muddying it with subplots that don’t really go anywhere (such as Travis’ and Jacko’s family situations).

The most serious flaw is also the most crucial plot point: the idea that Travis, a boxer who specializes in a body-to-body move called the “Clinch,” habitually gets an erection during that move. I found it hard to believe. Outside of that single moment, Travis doesn’t read as gay. In fact, he seems pretty resolutely heterosexual, with no evidence of even internal conflict or uncertainty. About the gayest thing he does in the film is to refrain from joining his friend Jacko in gay bashing some poor soul. In fact, by the end of the movie, I was not questioning Travis’ sexuality as much as Jacko’s. Someone with that much to prove has something to hide.

Oh, and throw in a whole lot of clichés … the broken families, the girlfriend, the aging trainer with one last hope (Travis), the violent northside/southside rivalry, the local cop … yeah, call me underwhelmed.

I also scored the movie low on the Gay Positivity scale, though I have tried to think about this film a little more deeply. Is there a positive side I’m not seeing because I’m so upset about the gay negative stuff? Moreover, am I being overly reactive? That is, am I saying, “Omigod, they’re dissing gay people!” and get all angry, without realizing that’s the point of the film – to explore the issue of dissing gay people, what it means, how it works, why it exists?

On the positive side… Well, for one thing, the one and only clearly gay person portrayed is just a regular guy. Well, sort of. Insofar as regular guys happily duck into a dark and dirty alley in a bad part of town to give a blowjob to an unknown albeit cute boy.

Oh, and then he gets bashed so badly he ends up paralyzed. Maybe not so positive.

Still, the sheer amount of homophobia shown in the movie reflects poorly on the homophobic characters, an important component of off-setting the negativity of homophobia. And yet, the film never really demonizes the homophobia, per se. Rather, the homophobia ends up being part of the texture of the landscape, of the psychology of this particular micro-civilization. The group dynamics that act themselves out over the course of the film take place within a framework of homophobia, with significant plot points prompted by the egregious anti-gay attitude.

But the film never really explores that there’s a deeper underlying connection between homophobia and violence (I mean more than just the gay bashing violence), and it never clearly indicts homophobia as destructive on oneself, not just on others.

Yes, of course, the destructiveness of homophobia is shown in the film: the gay bashing, or how graffiti alleging a gay relationship prompts a vicious, violent triple assault. But is it clear how, say, Jacko’s own homophobia is destructive to himself, his own sense of self, his own healthy self-regard, to his personal experience and hopes for the future? I see it, but it’s an issue I’ve thought about. Would your average person watching this film make the mental leap? Given what’s in the film, probably not.

One Amazon.com review comments that the portrayal of gay characters in this movie is a refreshing change from “easily digestible, non-threatening image of gay men” such as the characters of “Will & Grace.” I disagree completely. Only one (minor) character is clearly gay, and he gets violently bashed. We may question Jacko’s or Travis’s sexuality, but the film presents no real evidence to say either is gay. So, instead, we have a film in which the sole gay, after flirting with Travis, is threatened and victimized. To be a refreshing change from a non-threatening gay like Will, we’d need a tough gay character who can stand up emotionally and physically to the homophobia and triumph in the end. I would love to see that character. But s/he is not found in this film.

“Neverland” recasts “Peter Pan” into modern urban legend. It’s an interesting take, but the film comes across like a first draft.

The pacing is off, and the acting inconsistent. The movie works best when its humor is tongue-in-cheek. My favorite scene introduces the viewer to Hook (Gary Kelley). He’s waxing melodramatic about the importance of his job at a theme park, while trying to fend off amorous overtures from a guy dressed as a crocodile (Kevin Christy).

Unfortunately, most of the movie takes itself too seriously and veers into pretentiousness toward the end.

If you like offbeat, darkish, independent films, I’d recommend this. Otherwise, skip it.

Gay-wise: At the beginning of the film, Peter (Rick Sparks) describes himself as “pansexual,” which to him means, “I like sex.” To me, that conveyed a sense of openness in the film. This is “Peter Pan” for outsiders. A bit later the viewer sees the scene introducing Hook, described above. I’m not thrilled that the bad guy is gay (such a stereotype!), but at that point it seems kind of fun in a subversive way.

Unfortunately, the tongue-in-cheek approach stops there. Hook becomes a gay sexual predator whose ultimate fate follows stereotype, Peter evinces no sexuality throughout the rest of the movie (he’s a little boy who won’t grow up), and the only references to gay people are derisive. For example, the Lost Boys refer to the pirates (Hook’s apparently gay henchman) as “fags,” and Tinkerbell (Kari Wahlgren, my favorite in the movie) tries to demean Peter Pan by suggesting he doesn’t like girls. I’m not impressed.

Summary

Twelve years after the first book, Vanyel has become not only a full Herald-Mage but also the single most powerful one. The story opens after he’s spent an inordinate amount of time along Valdemar’s border fighting off evil mages and demon creatures; he returns to capital city Haven exhausted and depleted. And he needs a rest.

So he heads home to Forst Reach. Yes, relations with his parents are still strained – they haven’t yet accepted Vanyel’s homosexuality – but Forst Reach is isolated enough he can take some time to rest without worrying about being conscripted into a new project.

Naturally, his “restful” trip home turns out to be much more than he expected. A small neighboring kingdom verges on war, and a mysterious massacre only worsens the situation. Vanyel must solve the mystery of who or what killed all those poor people before an evil mage takes the throne and threatens Valdemar.

Characters & Narrative

The Last Herald-Mage Trilogy isn’t a single, epic story that covers three volumes, nor is “Magic’s Promise” a direct sequel that leads into the period following the end of Book One, wherein Vanyel trains as a Herald-Mage. As I mentioned in my review Of “Magic’s Pawn,” these books are more character study than plot-driven works. They explore the life of the last Herald-Mage, Vanyel Ashekevron.

Lackey emphasizes plot a bit more in this novel than in the last. About halfway in, the story takes on a distinct mystery flavor. It would appear that young Treven – citizen of the small neighboring kingdom mentioned above – has a powerful magical gift of which he lost control, resulting in the massacre. But is it that simple? Vanyel must explore and sift through clues to piece the scenario together.

I enjoyed the mystery aspect, in part because it forces Lackey to pay closer attention to the plot as Vanyel puts the clues together, one by one. However, like the first book, Lackey focused much more on character (and specifically, Vanyel).

In fact, the antagonists in this book are poorly developed. Lackey relies mostly on the mystery and interpersonal, interfamilial tensions to provide drama. There’s relatively little action and no Big Baddie, and even the little baddies are minor, uninteresting, and under-developed.

She included some nice side stories, like the resolution between Vanyel and his former Arms teacher Jervis. I like the theme that you can’t ever assume anything, and we often hold on to the stories that cause us to be angry even when they’re untrue. So I like when a story forces a character to confront the truth or untruth of his personal stories.

The Gay

In brief, like the first book, we find both positive and negative representations in this volume. Vanyel is a powerful, moral, and heroic gay man; and the author treats his sexuality sympathetically. In other words, the author is at least gay friendly in tone.

I would also add that it’s an innovative portrayal, since Lackey has created a series of fantasy books centering around a powerful, heroic gay man at a time when the mainstream fantasy genre barely even acknowledged gay people exist.

But the book definitely contains negative elements. The major issues in this volume are:

1. Vanyel is celibate, as if a gay man is only acceptable to the reading public if he’s gay in theory only, not actively gay;
2. gay men are all pedophiles; specifically, two adolescents offer themselves sexually to Vanyel, who resoundly rejects the advances, but multiple people assume he’d gladly take advantage of them. The actual stereotype of the gay sexual predator is not played out in the novel, but the prejudice is present. So, as with the first book, the negative themes have a second side, in this case, that this theme is present; but it’s offset by the character and storyline;
3. it’s just a phase, as one very minor subplot shows Vanyel occasionally questioning whether he’s truly shaych (i.e., “gay” in the Valdemaran universe). I imagine Lackey was full of good intentions with this subplot, the idea something along the lines of “Van questions whether he’s truly shaych, and comes to realize he is, because one just is; it’s not a choice. Unfortunately, the fact that the question was even raised undermines the argument; and
4. a continued difficult coming out, reflected in his strained and difficult relationship with his parents, who continue to feel shame that their son, despite his heroism and fame, is one of “those.”
5. I also get the sense of Vanyel having to compensate for his gayness. That is, if he wasn’t the most powerful Herald-Mage, if he didn’t have the highest ethical standards, if he were just average, he’d be looked upon, and consider himself, to be less than other people because he’s shaych. That’s a little bothersome.

For a continued analysis of the gay content of this trilogy, please see my reviews of “Magic’s Pawn” and “Magic’s Price” (forthcoming).

Overall

“Magic’s promise” is easily the weakest novel of the trilogy. The mystery is an interesting diversion; and the introductory parts showing how Vanyel has grown and mastered his powers is important to the conclusion of the trilogy. But Lackey could have easily reworked this and the last book into a single, comprehensive volume.

Also, please note this is a grim book. The first book was also filled with violence, but the darkness was offset by the innocence and naïveté of young Vanyel plus the abiding love of his relationships with Tylendel and Savil. So, it struck me more as high fantasy than dark fantasy. This book clearly falls into the latter category, however.

Overall Quality 4.0 / 5.0
Gay Content 2.0 / 5.0
Gay Positivity 3.5 / 5.0

My dad calls this show “topless raunch meets Cirque du Soleil.” The word “raunch” doesn’t feel quite right. This is a Cirque du Soleil performance, so everything is highly stylized and metaphorical. And yet, some of the costumes even had fake pubic hair, so it’s not exactly haute couture. Say rather “salty” or “burlesque,” and I’ll agree.

“Zumanity” displayed lots of beautiful bodies in a variety of choreographed scenes, but it also incorporated different kinds of physiques. A couple of players were large women, for example, and the cast also included the most muscular little person I’ve ever seen. The show was not so much erotic as titillating, including such fare as a fishbowl swim-dance routine with two topless Asian women and a mid-air gymnastics routine posing as bondage play. A relatively small cast and theater gave the show a more intimate feeling as well.

My favorite part of the performance involved a sequence of scenes that provided a wonderful metaphor for male sexuality. First the male performers play-act an audience for a strip show with a dominatrix brandishing a whip. Other female strippers then come out and offer the men lap dances. They maneuver the men into a common area and then disappear. A cage descends from the ceiling and traps the men (what a great metaphor)!

The men then become aggressive, sublimating their sexual energy. Two of the men begin a choreographed gymnastic routine-cum-fight. And yet, they intersperse the fight with brief intimate gestures, before resuming the assault. The fight ends with a full on kiss between the two men. How interesting that the show chose to portray male-on-male sexuality through aggression rather than affection.

Admittedly, much of the erotic content of the show as a whole seemed divorced from love, affection, and intimacy. Were the producers highlighting the frequent homoeroticism present in male aggression? Or did they feel homo-affection would alienate the primarily straight audience? When the two men kissed, the audience audibly gasped.

At the end of the show, the same two men also engaged in simulated and clothed but surprisingly graphic gay sex. The emcee (a drag queen who strongly hints at her own gayness) highlights the act and makes a joke: “They may not repopulate, but they sure can decorate.”

I consider the gay content to be vaguely disingenuous, but I give the show’s producers kudos for incorporating it to the extent they did. And I love a show that can make me think. Add in the delightful comedy which begins pre-show and continues throughout, and we have a winner.

Overall 1.5 / 5.0 (not recommended)
Gay Content 1.5 / 5.0
Gay Positivity 1.5 / 5.0

The story follows Danny’s (Thierry Pépin) progression from college student to aspiring model to stripper to porn actor. And truth be told, this movie is a form of porn. It’s not about selling sexual acts, but it’s using beefcake and sexual suggestiveness to sell a weak story. In place of a stronger script and more clever editing, the main character takes off his shirt, hoping to distract the discerning audience with his chiseled torso.

The basic story is sound. Danny is estranged from his father, who is concerned that Danny is going to follow his deceased mother by leading a wild life full of drugs. Danny doesn’t strike me so much as unstable as adolescent. He still has a lot of figuring out to do, and the filmmakers could have made a very interesting, thought-provoking story following that line of thought. They could have done it with the same characters and even many of the same major plot points.

But the presentation is poor. The viewer never really delves deeply into any of the characters. I don’t know any of them, not even Danny, who’s at center stage throughout the whole production. In the same way, many scene transitions felt abrupt, and so did Danny’s growth. The movie tells us at the end that he’s ready for a new start, thanks to the love of Karine (Véronique Jenkins). A revelation that left me thinking, “Where the hell did that come from?”

To my dismay, I understand why this movie was marketed so heavily to the gay community. It’s filled with beautiful young men baring all (in a couple of full-frontal scenes, and a plethora of shirtless shots). Some characters are strippers catering to a gay audience. Two male characters (Greg, played by a smoldering Jessie Beaulieu, and Danny) share a brief, homoerotic moment. And Danny’s father (Eric Cabana), a minor character, is gay. So yes, there are a number of elements of peripheral interest to the gay viewer.

But none of the main characters are gay, and Danny’s father barely appears in the film. The storyline is not gay; in fact, Danny is “saved” from self-destruction by falling in love with a woman, Karine. The one brief homoerotic moment leads to nothing except an apology. The word “fag” (or, more specifically, the French equivalent) is used liberally, and in a soliloquy, Danny reveals that being gay was so terrible for his father, that THEY HAD TO MOVE, because they were just that reviled by the community where they lived.

And in fact, the sole gay character is slightly unhinged (as when he chokes his son) and clearly wounded (alone for fifteen years, withholding affection from his son, and then when his son confesses that he wanted more from his father, the father turns around and tells him, ‘I’m putting myself first now.’) No, not a gay positive film.