treasure hunt
by Douglas Messerli
Mark Christopher (screenwriter and director) Alkali,
Iowa / 1995
Mark Christopher’s short film of 1995, Alkali,
Iowa begins in a field of corn with the central character, Jack Gudmanson
(J. D. Cerna) digging something up. It is, in fact, a remnant of the past, from
the old house in which previous generations of his family once lived, and which
the young man’s grandfather (Ed Seamon) inexplicably burned down in the 1960s.
Evidently, Jack has been long searching on this part of the field when
his autocratic grandfather
Why, he later asks his mother June (Mary Beth Hurt) did his grandfather
burn down the empty house where the family once lived? Her suggestion is that
it evidently attracted local young lovers and others who used it for hideaways.
He wonders whether she and his now deceased father had hung out there at times,
but doesn’t receive an answer.
Meanwhile, the continual appearance of a strange man who almost daily
drives up to the edge of their property and lays out a picnic lunch for
himself, seemingly toasting his champagne in the direction of the working
farmers almost as if he were taunting them, clearly angers the older man. He
calls the picnicking Roger, “Blondie” because of his platinum-dyed hair.
The
grandfather interrogates his grandson as to whether or not he has ever spoken
to the intruder, to which Jack replies, rather defensively, that he has no
reason to talk to him. It’s clear that the grandfather sees the stranger as a
dangerous figure, worthy of bringing out his shotgun to scare him off, action
he takes the second time “Blondie” appears during the course of the film.
More importantly, we observe Jack get into his car and drive a few miles
away to a grove, lined with some picnic tables. Suddenly, we recognize that the
spot is a hide-out for local gay men, farmers mostly. In the woods around and
in a local bathroom they appear to meet up for sex. Surely Jack is a handsome
regular to this bunch of rugged men, desperate for a little companionship.
I
have to say that this scene had great significance for me. Having grown up in a
more urban Iowa, I never bothered to wonder if there might be gay farmers, and
if there were, that they might have their own secret meeting places.
Christopher’s short film, accordingly, takes us into a world we might never
have imagined.
The day after these events, Jack, in the presence of his sister, digs up
something near the same spot of far more significance, a metal box. Since it’s
silver, Carol claims it, but Jack, once he has peaked inside to see the
contents, will not give it up. And that afternoon, while his grandfather is
working in a far field, he enters the older man’s bedroom to discover a strange
Hawaiian record which seems totally out of place in his grandfather’s
restrictive world.
On the back of one of the photographs he also has discovered in the
metal container which looks somewhat like a silver lunch box, is the written
name “Jacko.” a pet name, apparently, for his father, he has never heard his
mother express. The record has been signed, as a gift, to the same nickname.
In this sense, Christopher’s short film is not a trove of answers to the
riddles with which the movie presents us, but is, rather, a series of
unanswered clues to what we obliquely observe: his grandfather’s bitterness and
violence against “Blondie,” his mother’s vagueness about her and her husband’s
relationship. The two children, whose father has apparently died early in their
childhoods, are quite literally on a treasure hunt, Carol for shiny objects,
Jack for untold stories and, we gradually perceive, “evidence.”
Evidence of what he is seeking, we are not quite certain until he
returns to the country male pic-up spot, where “Blondie,” in fear of further
attack, attempts to race off in his car the moment he sees the young man. Jack,
however, simply apologies about his grandfather’s actions. “You knew my
father?” he gently asks. The man shakes his head yes. “Was he, was he like us?”
Jack almost stutters out the question the bits of information have led him to.
“Yes,” says “Blondie” before getting into his car to drive off.
To
my knowledge there is no Alkali, Iowa. And it is still difficult for me to
comprehend that some few of my large family of Iowa farmers might have been gay
and found such isolated spots as portrayed in this film, to satisfy their
desires. In a sense, Alkali, Iowa is related to movies such as Monte
Patterson’s 2010 movie “Caught,” wherein a small Ohio town gay men gather in a
bathroom facility in a rural public park nearby, tracked by police on hidden
cameras. Both films take us to territories we might never have expected in our
close-minded attitudes toward to LGBTQ activity.
This film demonstrates, in a sense, the truth of a litmus test: alkali
is a chemical compound that neutralizes or effervesces with acids, turning
litmus paper blue. Forgetting any political associations, it is interesting to
recall that gays were often described in some societies, and still are in
Russia, as “blues.” Here, their actions truly counteract or even animate the
narrow homophobic anger of those, like Jack’s grandfather, who live amongst
them.
If
Jack’s life may be forever closeted on the farm he works, he is, perhaps like
his father, open to others in the local community to more ebullient forms of
love.
Los Angeles, November 14, 2020
Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog and World Cinema Review (November 2020).
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