the kiss
by Douglas Messerli
Jamieson Pearce (screenwriter and director) The
Fruity / 2016 [11 minutes]
Lindsay
(Cameron Rhodes) enters. He’s evidently a special friend, who feels free to
enter through the kitchen, but also has a tender spot, we immediately perceive,
for the cook Jorge, which he treats, unlike Geoffrey, quite kindly. Jorge also
clearly likes Lindsay, even if the older man can’t say his name properly.
Lindsay loves Spain he declares, even though he’s never been there, his
love clearly influenced by the idea of having Jorge around, a sentiment shared
by the talkative customer, beer in hand, Bruce (Brendan Miles).
Jorge
wonders why Lindsay isn’t eating dinner, but he demurs (“I can’t), while
Geoffrey, now behind the bar, says you’re the one who wanted his special sauce,
Bruce joining in, “Oh, don’t we all!”
“That’s another matter!”
Bruce asks Jorge whether who give him a spanking, but Jorge is not sure precisely what “a spanking” entails. When asked if he might give Lindsay a kiss for singing, Jorge responds, “Sure.” “But”—he adds—"he has to do it properly, like he did when he was drunk!”
It
appears that Lindsay is truly mulling over the matter. Bruce insists he won’t
do it.
Several customers in Valentine’s Day drag suddenly enter and sashay around
the room. Fruity is an Aussie older man’s gay bar in which nearly all the
customers have long known one another.
Geoffrey announces that Lindsay is about to
perform, and the frightened and unsure man stands with mic in hand tentatively singing
Marc Bolan and T. Rex’s “Solid Baby.” The audience soon joins in and Lindsay
becomes more assured, and ends up singing quite splendidly.
The two say goodbye, and Lindsay walks slowly off with a little swagger in his step.
Certainly, there’s nothing profound in his
little film, but it’s sense of realism and depiction of the importance this
slightly sleazy Australian bar has in these older men’s lives provides it with
a sense of humor and gravitas missing in so many short films with far more
complex and consequential subjects. Although the comparison seems absurd, I
might suggest that there is something even Joycean about this work in the way the
great writer’s Dubliner stories manage to genuinely move us through the
everyday talk of people in pubs and dining with their families.
Los Angeles, December 21, 2023
Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (December
2023).
No comments:
Post a Comment