Hostel territory

Here's a blog I originally posted on Myspace (remember Myspace?). I was inspired to put it up on here after reading a clever queer reading of Hostel on Camp Blood, an amusing site that reviews horror films from a gay perspective. (See the newly added link at right.) I've also been psyched since Eli Roth announced a new feature length film based on his brilliantly grotesque "Thanksgiving" trailer from Grindhouse. ... Just saw "Hostel" for the first time. Interesting movie. Fairly creepy, and disgusting as all shit at times. I found the movie to be fascinatingly rife with psychosexual implications, actually. The film, about three horndog guys backpacking through Europe in search of T & A, was both casually homophobic and rather homoerotic. One of the boys teases another for his "fanny pack" and suggests he and someone else at the club have "fannypack sex . . . and jizz all over each other." Their other friend Oli is constantly mooning people and showing off or referring to his "shaved balls." We also see a fair amount of the boys' flesh, and their sexual exploits seem contingent on a camaraderie with each other; in an early scene, we even see two guys in the same room, having sex with girls and banging their fists together. It's all reminiscent of some gay porn fantasy of straight frat guys who might just be open to playing with each other for lack of girls. The Dutch Businessman who is central to the plot also has a notable degree of stereotypical, urbane gay affectation, and freaks out Josh by placing his hand on Josh's thigh. Josh freaks out, whilst his friends tease him for "finally hooking up." Later, when Josh runs into the Businessman again, he apologizes for his earlier reaction. The older man tells him that he understands and that "for me, having a family was the right choice . . . but you have to decide what's right for you." It really does seem like he suspects Josh is in the closet and is encouraging him to pursue his own path. In the next scene, all three boys have sex with women in the same room, and Josh keeps looking over at Paxton; one has to wonder what the meaning of this is. Josh is ostensibly trying to get over an ex-girlfriend, and yet he seems more than a little sexually ambivalent. Eventually Josh settles down, as does Paxton, the girls riding them. They're the ones being f***ed here, not the girls, a dynamic that is echoed later when one of the girls declares "Now you are *my* bitch." The scene ends on Josh, enjoying the throes of orgasm; it revolves around his facial expressions, with the girl more like window dressing. Josh is objectified later on in the movie's first real torture scene, stripped to his boxers and tied to a chair. (Sadomasochism adds a perversity to this gory, disturbing film; the ball gag that Paxton is forced to wear is straight out of the Mr. S Leather catalogue.) There is an interesting dynamic to the interplay among the film's men; they either join in sexual highjinks together or inflict violent pain on each other's bodies. SPOILER AHEAD During the movie's climax, Paxton plays dead and is wheeled right next to Josh's corpse. Josh's lips are sewn shut, and he stares lifelessly (yet soulfully) at his friend, who is obviously shaken by this. SPOILER OVER Considering what I'd heard about director Eli Roth-- that he was suspected of being an asshole because he's homo repressed-- I wasn't surprised to see publicity shots for "Hostel" that depicted beautiful boys suffering exquisite torture. Although it purports to be just another demented, bloody horror flick, "Hostel" is heavily laden with all sorts of social and cultural messages-- about men, about youth culture, about the way Americans are viewed by the rest of the world and the way that we view (and often exploit) people from other countries. And it does seem like the kind of film a man ill at ease with his own sexuality and masculinity would make. The movie both pokes holes in and reinscribes traditional notions of what it means to be a man; Paxton in particular starts off as the standard alpha male, is made confused and vulnerable, and then asserts his manhood yet again, through the saving of a young woman and through numerous acts of violence against other men. SPOILER AHEAD Actually, he isn't able to stop that woman from killing herself, which may be another reason he takes such a brutal, eye-for-an-eye-- or fingers-for-fingers-- revenge on the Businessman. SPOILER OVER The movie is also infused with a fair amount of misogyny; all the women are either sex objects, treacherous bitches, or both. Like "The Devil's Rejects" and the original "Hills Have Eyes," "Hostel" depicts a world in which their are no clear heroes and the victims end up just as vicious as the aggressors. I think it means a lot more than Roth realizes, at least at the moment. After all, I just wrote a ton about the film-- I think there's probably a whole paper here, actually! In any case, I'm glad I saw it and found it a pretty effective little thriller, even if the Grand Guignol schtick got to be a little much. (As did Paxton's clumsily inserted "I didn't save a girl from drowning once" back story.) The characterizations were good and Hernandez in particular did a good job of making us feel for a character who isn't particularly sympathetic until his life is in jeopardy.

The Movement Must Go On

It’s not every night that you get to see Wonder Woman, a Golden Girl, and Barbarella on the same stage—but then, Monday’s Defying Inequality benefit concert was no ordinary night. Next secured me a pair of press tickets to the event raising money for marriage equality organizations. The star-studded lineup included the radiant Lynda Carter, Rue McClanahan (who spoke of her own right to marry—and remarry!—as she pleased), and Jane Fonda. The latter announced that the creators of Wicked (the event was held at the show’s home, the Gershwin Theater) had jointly contributed an additional $250,000 to the cause. Though the show was overlong and had some slow bits (the men of The Little Mermaid massacring “Part of Your World” was a low point), it offered plenty of great entertainment. A sing-along by cast members from Sesame Street made us all feel like kids again, and we were also treated to memorable performances by Ugly Betty’s adorable Mark Indelicato, comedian Mike Birbiglia, and the dancers from The Color Purple doing an exuberant take on the “Single Ladies” choreography. (Having three sassy male dancers lead that performance underscored the evening’s theme: let us put a ring on it, already!) Cyndi Lauper, alas, did not sing, but the Sicilian spitfire delivered an impassioned if meandering speech. She also got some of the night’s biggest laughs when she referenced Harvey Fierstien’s letter to the President and accidentally said “Harvey Weinstein.” Oops! As the crowd guffawed, Cyndi exclaimed, “That was last night! Damnit!”
But beyond the show’s undeniable entertainment value, it was a powerful reminder that we are in the midst of a true social revolution. After seeing and reading about Harvey Milk and the beginnings of the gay movement, I wished I could have participated in those historic events; but last night it hit me that there is an important battle for equality raging right *now,* and every one of us can participate. Again and again performers last night emphasized that the fight for civil equality is one we can and will win. We need only to keep fighting. I’m reminded of young Cleve Jones (Emile Hirsch) in the movie Milk: “I don’t do losing.” We should all be so stubborn and tenacious.

The Films of 2008: My Favorites

Sorry this list is a little late, but New Year’s week was a bit hectic for me. (Jacob came into town; much merriment—and a touch of drama—ensued.)
Cloverfield—The first film I saw last year is still my favorite. Yes, it’s high concept, but more importantly it’s ferociously entertaining, using special effects sparingly and generating gargantuan amounts of suspense and terror. By depicting a monster movie scenario via shaky camera work and naturalistic performances, Cloverfield accomplishes the difficult feat of making its Godzilla-esque premise believable. Some criticized producer J.J. Abrams and co. for exploiting 9/11 imagery to unnerve their audience, but the best horror filmmakers have always used real fears to underlie fanciful stories.
Forgetting Sarah Marshall—Hands down, my favorite comedy of the year. Writer director Jason Segel established himself as a rising talent to watch with this hilarious and relatable film. All the pain of breakups is made as real as it is hysterical, as hapless Peter (Segel) tries to escape to Hawaii, only to run into ex Sarah (Kristen Bell, always perfection) and her vain new rock star beau (Russell Brand). Luckily, adorable and caring hotel clerk Rachel (Mila Kunis) is there for support—and maybe more. By now, we all know the raunchy/sweet, improvisational MO of the Judd Apatow gang movies (he produced this), but Forgetting Sarah Marshall distinguishes itself with strong storytelling and vivid characterizations that go just far enough to amuse without devolving into Cartoon Land.
Iron Man—If not for a Certain Acclaimed Blockbuster, this would easily be 2008’s best superhero film. As is, it’s a fantastic film that delivers the action goods without sacrificing story or character. Robert Downey, Jr. brought his career roaring to new heights as the funny, evolving Tony Stark, who has a traumatic experience in Afghanistan and decides to change from weapons magnate to advocate for peace. The scenes with Stark developing his super suit have the same sense of wonder and discovery that made Spider-man such a delight. Meanwhile, Gwyneth Paltrow imbues Stark’s long-suffering (and smitten) assistant Pepper Potts with enough depth and likability to remind us why she became a movie star in the first place.
Sex and the City—No, I’m not one of those gays who gathered around the television for each week’s installment of the HBO megahit. But I was game to see the big screen version with my friend Elon (a devoted fan) and was pleasantly surprised by just how good this movie is. Yes, it’s an entertaining and often witty romp filled with glitzy fashions. (This has to be the biggest ode to conspicuous consumption since The Devil Wears Prada pretended to condemn materialism while celebrating it in every frame.) But it’s also a surprisingly dark and affecting look at broken hearts and the enduring power of love and forgiveness. Besides, the cast’s lived-in chemistry with each other is an alluring entertainment in its own right.
The Strangers—The horror genre is in a weird place right now. We’ve got torture porn, a trend that mercifully seems to be on its way out (though I anticipate annual Saw sequels through 2015). We’ve got a seemingly endless stream of remakes, most of which are as bland as they are unnecessary. But here’s a movie that’s simple, stark, and incredibly effective. The best elements of Halloween—from the shadowy camerawork to the masked killers and spooky sound design—combine into a power house scare show that knocked this horror junkie off his feet. Liv Tyler’s vividly emotional performance as the victimized Kristen helps sell the harrowing this-could-happen-to-you-scenario. Why’d the killers pick them? “Because you were home.” That lack of rhyme or reason may be The Strangers’ biggest scare of all.
The Dark Knight—What can I say about this massively popular, tremendously lauded film that hasn’t already been said? That it’s deftly plotted? Politically relevant? Fabulously acted—especially by Heath Ledger as an indelibly vivid Joker? Said, said, and said. Aaron Eckhart probably hasn’t received enough attention for his complex and sympathetic portrayal of Harvey/Two Face, though, and I will say that the action sequences are killer—just because a movie is deep and dark doesn’t mean it can’t have bad-ass set pieces.
The Pineapple Express—Compared to the humanistic Forgetting Sarah Marshall, The Pineapple Express is business as usual for Judd Apatow: broad characters, wackiness, and a secondary plot. It’s a 21st century stoner movie with an action template: Dale (Seth Rogen) and his dealer Saul (James Franco), two sorta-buddies, are forced to go on the run after Dale inadvertently witnesses a murder. What elevates this farce beyond being merely entertaining is Franco’s outstanding performance (he inhabits this lovable flake in the deepest way possible) and that trademark dash of sweetness that balances out all the drug and sex jokes. By the end, Dale’s come to see Saul as more than the “loser” who supplies him his weed—he respects and cares for him as a friend. Altogether now: awww.
Milk—It took years of development and half a dozen false starts, but the wait was worth it for this biopic of legendary gay activist Harvey Milk. Sean Penn gives a bravura performance as the charismatic Milk, who overcame the odds to become America’s first openly gay man in office; the film tells the story of his years in San Francisco, where he became “the Mayor of Castro Street” and helped mobilize an entire generation to fight for gay rights before his tragic assassination by a disgruntled colleague. None of the criticisms that have been lodged at this film—that it’s built on biopic clichés and is occasionally preachy (both of which are more or less true)—have diminished my tremendous affection and respect for it. It’s a hopeful and inspiring tale, full of detail and brilliant acting—standouts in the latter category include Emile Hirsch as queer spitfire (and future AIDS Quilt creator) Cleve Jones and Josh Brolin as the conflicted and murderous Dan White. As Milk says in the movie, “You gotta give ‘em hope”—and that’s exactly what this beautifully rendered film does, at a time when the gay community (youth especially) needs it more than ever.

Viva Hollywood: Me thinks the lady doth protest too much

Last night I caught the second episode of "the greatest show in the history of reality television," VH1's Viva Hollywood. It had more of what made me love the premiere so much: copious amounts of eye candy, bad acting, and brilliant cheese. This week's Deadly Sin was "Lust," so first off the contestants were ambushed by a yoga lesson that they were encouraged to do... in the nude. First the male instructor stripped down, his naughty bits covered up by a giant cartoon sombrero. Then a few of the guys followed suit, and while we couldn't see any of their naughty bits, either (more sombreros), it was still kind of hot to watch. To quote Vinci (above), I almost wished I were "watching TV, you know... by myself." The only girl to bare all was Jenn, and the poor thing endured no small amount of taunting from the other women. Gisel, that bitch, took the opportunity to hurl insults at her along with all the others; no one seemed to acknowledge the fact that they had all been told to do this, yet were all too chicken to do so. Next up, two telenovela stars came on to coach the contestants on their love scene challenge. Last week's winner, Roseny (the one who insulted the famous star she won dinner with) got to pair up the others, and she threw in some nice wrenches: Gisel was matched up with Janet for a lesbian scene, while macho guys Berto and Vinci were paired for a gay one. While Gisel was stymied, her reaction was nothing compared to Vinci's: he promptly threw a fit, started crying, and stalked off to his room to start packing. While the others trained for their scenes, Berto was stuck trying to coax Vinci out of his room. "Come out!" he cried, which made me happy to no end. The guest trainers attempted to reason with him as well. While Berto was willing to do the scene, since it's an acting challenge, Vinci was throwing a baby-ish fit. All of it seemed to indicate someone who's not at all secure in his sexuality. (Earlier Vinci had also noted his discomfort with doing yoga so close to the naked Enrique, who seems to be gay himself.) While Vinci did agree to do the scene, he insisted on changing the script, ostensibly to "show his acting skills" but in truth to remove any kissing or excessive touching. Ultimately, the "love scene" basically amounted to Berto's character coming on to his friend and being gently rebuffed; at the end, they hugged and Vinci gave him a superficial pat on the back. It's too bad, cause both guys have great bodies and played the scene in shorts and towels, all sweaty-- so if they made out it might have been fun to watch... you know... by myself. Meanwhile, prudish Gisel suggested she and Janet get liquored up to practice their love scene; Kalain continued to demonstrate his lack of any acting talent whatsoever as he mumbled, "Your husband will be home any minute"; and Roseny regretted choosing Geovannie as her scene partner, since he became extremely hands-y during rehearsals and filming. I was irritated by this last bit myself, since a few of my girlfriends have suffered similarly unpleasant situations. In the end, Berto won the challenge, which made me happy; he turned in a great performance as the gay friend, and he'd also had to put up with more crap than any of the others. Still, when he won a $10,000 shopping spree and was given the option to share it with someone, he picked Vinci. I would have smacked the goon for what he put me through, but it does seem to have been a calculated move on Berto's part, since he was heard commenting that "I know this will make me look good." I think I may have found someone to root for. Meanwhile, Alexcy was chosen as the loser, and while he wasn't stellar, I would have picked the emotionless Janet, who was actually praised for her wooden performance. (Maybe because it was somehow an improvement over her losing one last week?) The housemates deliberated and went to the chapel to pick Alexcy's duel mate (where many of them had decided to vote for Geovannie in some sort of strategery). Vinci got his share of votes, too; if you ask me, he should have been the landslide "winner." In any case, Alexcy and Geovannie's face-off was not nearly as dramatic as the sob fest between Jaimny and Janet the previous week. Alexcy acted all cocky and went on about his star quality, while Geovannie resorted to lots of big hand gestures. In the end, the hosts decided to give Alexcy the ax, or the bullet in this case. He and Geovannie's death scene ended with Alexcy's character lying on a bed, apparently shot to death with no wound of any kind. (I was amused by the scene's start: Geovannie walks in to find the other man lying in a robe, taunting him with the line "If you come close, you can probably still smell her perfume on me." Mmm... hot.) Next week looks like more of Vinci being a primadonna (how butch) and, hopefully, loads more shirtlessness from all the guys. I can hardly wait.