1996-03-15
N/A
102 min
Exuberant, eye-opening movie that serves up a dazzling hundred-year history of the role of gay men and lesbians have had on the silver screen. Film contains fabulous footage from 120 films showing the changing face of cinema sexuality, from cruel stereotypes to covert love to the activist triumphs of the 1990s.
Ok, so perhaps some of the claims made in the narration about some of the stars featured here are a bit optimistically speculative, but it still manages to use some very well researched archive and the benefit of hindsight to portray a sort of “Hollywood Babylon” approach to a century of gay Hollywood film-making. Starting way back, pre-code, with films from the likes of Cecil B. DeMille, it presents and engaging analysis of cinematic history that includes some of the talked-about regulars like Greta Garbo, Dame Judith Anderson, Rock Hudson and Monty Clift, but instead of reverting to the gossip columns of the likes of Louella Parsons, it sees contributions from the likes of Tony Curtis, Shirley MacLaine and particularly Gore Vidal to shine some spotlights on the subtly of messages like the censored oysters and snails scene from “Spartacus” (1960) that did actually make it past those implementing the Hayes code. Some of the commentaries quite potently focus attention on the innate conservativeness of an industry that either in content or via it’s highly paid and profiled personalities was unwilling to rock the boat of an America that viewed any semblance of same sex relationships with disdain - unless, of course, it involved Jack Lemmon or a camp “sissy” mincing around offering a comforting foil to the likes of Marilyn Monroe or Jane Russell. Once the breakthrough came, in the USA long after most of Europe and even the UK, it opened the flood gates and soon A-listers like Susan Sarandon and Tom Hanks were topping the bill with overtly gay, or mischievously nuanced, characterisations. It also draws an interesting distinction between the perceptions of man on man and woman on woman stories. The latter seemingly proving less provocative and the former bringing into question the entire concept of masculinity and weakness. It’s down to Vidal, though, to steal the show with a recounting of a conversation on the set of “Ben Hur” (1959) where he and William Wyler discuss just whether Chuck Heston and Stephen Boyd might just have an hidden reason for that glint in their eyes at the start of the film? Well, Boyd anyway! This is an entertaining chronology that casts it’s net far and wide, and comes up with some surprising substance but keep the salt nearby.
