Overall Quality 2.0 / 5.0 (a lot of potential, but hobbled by inconsistent storytelling)
Gay Inclusive? Very – one of the two main characters is gay, and the other is at least bicurious
Gay Positive? Mixed – these people have a lot of growing up to do, and they don’t do it in this film

An odd movie. In some ways, filmmaker Damion Dietz displays remarkable talent. The story continually defies expectation, he manages to draw some fine scenes out of his acting talent, and the script successfully forces the viewer to think about the story being told.

Weak-willed (but very handsome) Nate has recently enlisted in the army at the urging of his critical mother and self-involved girlfriend. He decides to seek out his biological father for the first time before he leaves for Iraq. Meanwhile, gay emo boy Andy is reeling from the death of his marine lover and struggling with his responsibilities as a young father (he is gay; apparently the conception was lubricated with tequila).

But. The movie is riddled with plot contrivances, the characterization relies far too much on stock clichés and still manages to be inconsistent, and the ending simply fails to satisfy.

As a result, I cannot recommend the movie without qualifications. It’s above average among independent gay films, thanks to a deep story and fair-to-good acting. It’s also a very sexy film. At the same time, all of that is faint praise – most independent gay films suck, and handsome man-flesh only compensates so much.

Regarding the gay positivity of the film, I’m puzzled by its mixed messages, which are the result of terrible and inconsistent characterization.

Andy is easily the most inconsistent character, sometimes mournfully deep, other times shockingly immature and irresponsible. He’s pining for a marine lover who died (recently, by implication); he was alternately distant and clinging with newly enlisted Nate, but rarely displayed the emotion that made sense at the time.

Nate, meanwhile, is a straight guy who enjoys one night of passion with Andy. It was hard to buy into – I never understood Nate’s journey in this film. I had no sense that either Andy or Nate had really grown as people by the end of the film.

The ending. It’s not a matter of how the relationship between Andy and Nate changes at the end. I kind of like that it defies expectation. But the conclusion doesn’t answer any questions, nor does it manage to capitalize on any of the film’s themes in a meaningful way. I get the sense the film ends the way it does because Dietz doesn’t know how to end it otherwise.

Teaser:

Overall Quality 4.0 / 5.0 (engaging and interesting)
Gay Inclusive? Very – the subject is a gay man and his beginnings in gay porn
Gay Positive? Mostly – a positive tone undercut by negative implications that go unexplored

A fascinating look into a culture and man full of unexpected contradictions.

Jeffrey Schwartz’s documentary explores the evolution of Jack Stillman – a small, unathletic child of Beverly Hills privilege – into Jack Wrangler, who epitomizes rugged male sexuality. The evolution is far from linear. Jack begins in gay porn at a time when pornography was produced for the big screen, and acting was actually expected of the stars. Sometimes adult films could even get reviews in venues like Variety.

Stillman forged Wrangler in the fire of the gay porn business in the 1960s, during the time of the sexual revolution. The gay experience was fraught with peril; the documentary largely ignores that and focuses instead on the sexual openness of the pre-AIDS period.

The documentary strikes me as a bit one-sided in this sense. In fact, with Jack as the chief narrator, the film seems more like an autodocumentary. The overall tone is self-congratulatory, although to his credit Jack seems as startled by his successes as anyone. Still, I can’t help but think there’s another side to this story not being told.

I do deeply appreciate one of the themes of the documentary: a presentation of gay men counter to common stereotype. In fact, he’s one of earliest media images that counters the stereotype of gay men as effeminate sissies; it’s interesting that his image is not just masculine, but powerfully sexualized. Jack Wrangler represents a “manly man” – rugged, handsome and sexual – who is also gay.

Which makes it so odd that Wrangler moved into straight pornography. He had his first sexual encounter with a woman on-camera. He managed to become successful even in straight adult films, including The Devil in Miss Jones 2 and Debbie Does Dallas 2.

He’s also one of the few porn stars to bridge the gap from porn to mainstream theatrical work.

Perhaps most curiously, Jack became romantically involved with vocalist Margaret Whiting, a woman twenty years his senior. They have since married.

I’m not straight, and I’m not bisexual. I’m gay, but I could never live a gay lifestyle because I’m much too competitive. When I was with a guy I would always want to be better than him: what we were accomplishing, what we were wearing — anything. With a woman you compete like crazy, but coming from different points of view, and as far as I’m concerned, that was doable. (1)

It’s a puzzling development in the personal life of an otherwise openly gay man. Watching this portion of the documentary, part of me shrugs it away: to each his own. At the same time, I can’t help but notice that it’s suggestive that gay men can “change” their sexual orientation, and that the image of a manly gay man “turns out” to be straight … or at least turns to a straight lifestyle.

The most interesting-and perplexing-event of his life is his relationship with Whiting. Wrangler is a self-professed gay man who, according to the film, can´t see himself living with another man. As a condition of moving in with Whiting, and subsequently getting married, the actor agreed to give up performing in porn films as well as having encounters with other men. He makes light of it, saying he has a healthy masturbatory life. However, for a generation of gay men who looked up to Wrangler-not to mention the era he ushered in-I have to think this is a slap in the face. Certainly there is not a list of requirements to be considered gay; what fits one person doesn´t necessarily fit another. But a out gay man married to a woman and abstaining from sex with other men? Does that even qualify as being gay anymore? (2)

Again, I return to the point that the documentary doesn’t present “another side” to the story. Despite including interviews with colleagues from his work in porn, the documentary never delves into what it all means.

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Theatrical trailer:

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(1) Brother, Job. “The Anatomy of Jack Wrangler.” The Advocate. 5 November 2008. http://www.advocate.com/print_article_ektid64690.asp (retrieved 30 November 2008).

(2) Vargo, Jason. “Review of ‘Wrangler: Anatomy of an Icon.’” DVDTown.com. 26 October 2008. http://www.dvdtown.com/reviews/wrangler-anatomy-of-an-icon/6426 (retrieved 30 November 2008).

Overall Quality 3.5 / 5.0 (recommended)
Gay Content 1.0 / 5.0
Gay Positivity 2.0 / 5.0

I enjoyed this novel, but it is not Simmons’ best work. That said, he is one of my favorite authors. If you are new to his books, start with “Hyperion” (if you like Sci-Fi) or “Summer of Night” (if you’re a horror fan).

“Ilium” stands as one of the most unusual Sci-Fi reads I’ve enjoyed in a long time. The narrative follows three overlapping threads. First, on Mars we find the Greek gods enacting or re-enacting the Trojan War (explicitly, “The Iliad” as written by Homer). These gods seem suspiciously high-tech. Unfortunately for them, thanks to our intrepid scholar-protagonist Thomas Hockenberry, events don’t go quite as planned. Second, the reader follows a group of sentient robots from Jupiter, who travel to Mars because of dangerous quantum distortions emanating from the planet. Finally, human civilization on Earth has seemingly returned to the semi-dark ages, and a group of old-style humans are trying to re-discover the universe.

The three storylines dovetail nicely with each other, and I liked the skillful juxtaposition of history, literature, philosophy, and Sci-Fi. Welcome to science fiction for college professors!

Simmons has mastered the art of raising intriguing questions while offering just enough tantalizing answers to keep the reader hooked. Who are the post-humans? Are the Greek gods post-humans, or something else? What happened to the old-style humans? What are the mysterious voynix? How is Odysseus apparently existing in two places at once? How and why can the old-style humans on Earth “watch” the re-enactment of the Trojan War? Simmons tends to end each chapter with the reader hanging on some important question or dramatic plot point; it can be hard to put this novel down.

On the other hand, I found myself skimming quite a bit. A lot of the conversations (which I assume he intended to be thought-provoking or literary) are prosaic and off-putting. I also felt strung along at times: there’s a fine line between withholding information to create tension and doing so to drag the story out. Simmons also occasionally gets lost in the minutia, for example, when the Jovian robots navigate the Martian seas.

Note that the novel ends with a cliffhanger. The story concludes in “Olympos.”

On the whole, “Ilium” presents an unusual and well-written read. I would recommend it for science fiction devotees, or fans of Homer’s “The Iliad” who are open to Sci-Fi. If you like this novel, definitely try Simmons’ stellar “Hyperion” series as well.

Regarding gay content, to my surprise the author makes several explicit references to homosexuality. Nevertheless, most of the mentions are brief: no characters are clearly gay, and there doesn’t appear to be any gay subtext in the novel, so I rated the Content Scale very low. Similarly, while Simmons never crosses the line into blatant homophobia, his comments hardly qualify as positive.

His novel involves several historical persons who are known or rumored to be gay, such as Shakespeare, Proust, and Achilles/Patroclus. In most cases, Simmons dismisses the theory. In fact, in one sequence one of the robot characters speaks with Shakespeare (don’t ask; it’s science fiction) and explicitly asks the Bard, who reacts violently. In the case of Achilles/Patroclus, the author allows some homoeroticism to exist between them but clearly (through sex acts) establishes them as heterosexual.

The overarching vibe of these mentions is that straight somehow trumps gay. His dismissive and lowbrow use of gay references disappoints me.

Original air date: 20 November 1996

Overall 4.0 / 5.0 (entertaining; great Kes episode)
Gay Content 1.0 / 5.0 (some odd gender-bending situations)

Voyager comes across a damaged ship and rescues its three occupants; one of them dies, but not before transferring his consciousness into Kes (Jennifer Lien). Turns out that fellow, Tieran (played by both Lien and Leigh J. McCloskey), is a warlord hell-bent on re-conquering a world from which he was exiled 200 years before.

Like most Star Trek episodes with any content of gay interest, “Warlord” dances around the issue. It’s another case of “fake-gay” arising from the story playing around with gender.

Tieran is male and clearly heterosexual, as he’s married to a female (Nori, played by Galyn Gorg). But when he takes possession of Kes’s body, he finds himself in a female form.

First, we have the odd interplay between Tieran-as-Kes and Nori. Nori, understandably, expresses concerns about what this means for their relationship. Tieran doesn’t seem to see any problems; in fact, in one scene they nearly kiss.

Then, it gets even more complicated! Tieran apparently decides to take advantage of the situation. He arranges a wedding with a male in order to consolidate power; remember, Tieran is in a female body. I doubt he would have made that move if he’d remained in the male body.

Also while occupying Kes, he kisses Tuvok. It’s a physically heterosexual kiss, but it’s a male personality doing the kissing.

The episode might have offered an interesting commentary on gender identity. Is gender intrinsic to one’s consciousness/personality, transcending the physical form? If I were transferred into a female body, would I still identify as male? Does this situation make Tieran/Kes into a transgender person? Unfortunately, “Warlord” doesn’t explore any of that; the story is about the possession and attempted coup, and the writers just milk the gender element for more drama.

Meanwhile, the gay element exists only peripherally and as an abstract.

Star Trek: Voyager is probably the least gay inclusive of all the TV iterations, and an episode like this just highlights the exclusion.

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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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(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).

Original Title: Just une question d’amour

Overall Quality 4.0 / 5.0 (recommended)
Gay Content 4.5 / 5.0
Gay Positivity 2.5 / 5.0

University student Laurent (Cyrille Thouvenin) is terrified to come out to his parents. His cousin Marc came out to his own parents (Laurent’s aunt and uncle), who promptly kicked him out. Laurent’s parents, meanwhile, supported that decision. Laurent does not want to lose his parents, so he lives in the closet. In fact, he uses his best friend and roommate, Carole (Caroline Veyt), as a beard to deceive his parents.

So far, not very gay positive. We have the tired old story of the gay child in the closet, and we have parents who are rampantly anti-gay when it comes to their children (oddly, they seem amused by gay couples shopping for condoms at their pharmacy, but they resort to physical violence with their own flesh-and-blood). Laurent, for his part, is mostly okay with being gay. Except when it comes to his parents, and then he seems to feel deeply ashamed and disappointed in himself. He even tries to make himself straight for their benefit.

Yeah, it’s gay-positive-challenged.

Then Laurent meets the handsome Cédric (Stéphan Guérin-Tilli), for whom Laurent interns in the field of agronomy. Cédric’s mother Emma (Eva Darlan) is openly accepting of her son and tries to help Laurent’s parents to understand and accept their child. Cédric finds it difficult to accept Laurent’s closetedness and pushes Laurent to come out to his parents, causing their burgeoning relationship to splinter.

This made-for-TV French film is extremely well done, and the love story between Laurent and Cédric sweet to watch unfold. The two actors have real on-screen chemistry, and the movie does a great job of portraying their interactions realistically, from playfulness to passion to tenderness to tension. The acting is top-notch, and the story exceeds the scope of the clichéd coming-out tale with its involvement of Laurent’s best friend and Cédric’s mother. Laurent’s uncertainty about his sexuality is balanced by Cédric’s quiet confidence, and both characters offer the viewer enough depth and breadth that neither are stereotypes or caricatures.

Okay, I have to admit it. I watched this movie because Lee Rumohr, who plays protagonist Troy, is hot. Totally hot. That’s the only reason. And having seen it, there’s no other reason to bother with it. (And dammit! The most skin we see of Rumohr are a couple of scenes in his underwear).

The basic story is sound, but the execution is weak. Troy (Rumohr) is a gay man who’s fallen in love with his slacker friend, Merrick (Matt Austin). Mr. Merrick, meanwhile, is a total closet case who willingly sleeps with Troy but refuses to kiss him or acknowledge their relationship publicly. Unrequited love can make for a powerful and universal story.

At any rate, I think that’s what the film is about. What’s happening isn’t at all clear until a third or so into the movie. Between a messy script and confused direction, it’s hard to follow what’s going on. A good script lays out the conflict and then carefully builds the story, building tension inch by inch. This script meanders and can’t make up its mind what it’s trying to say.

Meanwhile, the director seems to give the same direction to the actors in every scene: “Lee, you’re so fed up you’re emotionally dead in this scene. Matt, you act like a jerk.” Particularly in Rumohr’s case, while I usually prefer understated performances, he seems almost absent in the role. Between the script and inept direction, the actor doesn’t have much to go on. It’s unfortunate: assuming any of the actors are capable of a breakout performance, the film’s other weaknesses hobble them.

As a side-note, Rumohr also played a gay man named Troy in several episodes of Showtime’s “Queer As Folk.” QAF Troy, however, is not nearly so sympathetic as our forlorn romantic in “Denied.”

Regarding the gay positivity, this film’s portrayal is hard to read. Rather than a single Gay Positivity Score, I almost want to offer a range. The unfocused script makes it unclear if Troy is a proud gay man (he doesn’t seem to have any issues being or admitting he’s gay), or a furtive one (at the same time, he’s apparently not out to his friends, although he seems unconcerned at the prospect of being outed later in the film). I’ll say, though, that Troy’s relative comfort with his sexuality gives the film a solid, fairly gay positive foundation. Merrick, on the other hand, clearly has issues with same-sex intimacy. Sex is fine as long as it stays secret. But full-on romance? That’s just wrong. Other characters react badly. Fowler (Matthew Finlason), a friend of Troy’s from high school, doesn’t even want Troy to touch him. The film’s conclusion is a mixed bag, positivity-wise: it ends predictably regarding Troy’s and Merrick’s relationship, but it’s arguably a healthy development.

Overall, if Rumohr and/or Austin someday become major stars, this movie might make an interesting footnote in their early careers. Otherwise, skip it.

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.

A clumsy and uncomfortable comedy that relies too heavily on tired stereotypes and whiny pathos for its humor. A few appealing performances and a nice ending help salvage the film from utter ridiculousness but fail to redeem it entirely.

Angelo (Luke Kirby) is a 20-something gay Italian-Canadian who decides to move out of his parents’ home, an unusual move in Italian culture, and one that leads to tension with his parents. They don’t realize he’s in a relationship with his childhood friend Nino. The same Nino who ignored him completely in school because he didn’t want to be associated with “the fag.” Not a good sign. In fact, Nino wants to remain deeply in the closet and instantly quashes Angelo’s inquiries to the contrary. Bad sign #2. Naturally, it all comes out, leading Angelo’s and Nino’s parents into subterfuge and intimidation to make their sons straight again.

Nino’s role is mostly to look good. Actor Peter Miller succeeds at that but little more. Kirby and Claudia Ferri (playing Angelo’s sister Anna) offer the most appealing performances, bringing a vulnerability to their characters that raises them above cardboard cutouts. In fact, Anna becomes the most interesting and well-acted character by the end. Angelo (or perhaps I should say Kirby) suffers from the most awkward scenes (such as a crude sequence of disastrous telephone counseling sessions) as well as an incomprehensible strain of self-hatred that’s clearly intended to be funny and fails completely in that regard. For example, Angelo states that he hates effeminate gay men and they better stay away from him. Uh huh.

Blame the script more than the actors. A scene where Angelo confronts Nino and their parents with all his pent-up frustration and rage feels self-indulgent, almost as though screenwriters Steve Gallucio and Émile Gaudreault (the latter also directed) are saying to the fictional parents what they themselves would have liked to say to their own parents. In fact, the movie has a strong autobiographical vibe, emphasized by its story-within-a-story as Angelo tries to write a sitcom based on his family. The movie itself originated as a stage play by Steve Gallucio.

A good director has the power to take an uneven, mediocre script and, with competent actors, make an emotionally engaging story. Gaudreault is not that director. If anything, he encourages the unsubtle and uncomfortable stereotypes. The Italian parents, for example, might as well be cartoons. They’ve been caricatured into the least common denominator of stereotypes.

The movie actually finds its emotional core in a character who has maybe ten minutes of screen time: Peter, in a understated performance by Tim Post. I say “understated;” his performance approaches flat, but his character provides a nice and much needed counterbalance to Angelo’s manic foolishness. It’s pure fantasy, though. What the hell would a well-adjusted and mature person like Peter see in a character who declares on their first meeting that he hates effeminate gay men?

Admittedly though, I love the final scene in the movie. In fact, the movie successfully tricked me into expecting one ending and then believably delivering another. That always impresses me.

Peter provides the only real gay positivity of the movie by presenting an emotionally healthy, mature, and well-adjusted gay man. By contrast, the script predicates the rest of the story on self-hating, maladjusted gay men and their virulently antigay families. The comedic approach softens the homophobia, but there it is.