Monday, February 19, 2024

Robert L. Camina | Upstairs Inferno / 2015

leaving by the front door

by Douglas Messerli

 

Robert L. Camina (screenwriter and director) Upstairs Inferno / 2015

 

Robert L. Camina’s 2015 documentary personalizes the terrible events that happened in New Orleans on June 24, 1973, by not only providing the history of the terrible fire at the UpStairs Lounge gay bar at the edge of the New Orleans French Quarter, but by interviewing many of the still living survivors.


      The bar, established and run by Phil Esteve, which he opened on Halloween 1970. Having been in both a seminary and the Navy, neither of which worked out for him. He and friends fixed it the second floor up with a front bar, and an open room, and behind it a larger “meeting room,” in which for a while Phil celebrated gay performances and readings but which was eventually used, with his joyful permission, on Sundays for one of the national centers of the Metropolitan Community Church, a protestant pro-LGBT religious denomination founded in Huntington Park, California by Troy Perry, who appears as a central figure in the film.

      Having difficulty finding space in the New Orleans, the local Revered Bill Larson were delighted that Esteve granted them space, although they soon found a larger place a worship nearby. Yet Larson and several other regulars continued to visit and meet at the UpStairs Longue, often before and after services and on special occasions also met in the back room where they had begun their New Orleans chapter.


      On January 27, 1973, in fact, several of their members, including Larson, as well as bar regulars had filled the bar to celebrate a regular “beer bust” drink special than ran from 5:00-7:00 pm. About 110 patrons were visiting the bar when a terrible fire broke up, trapping many within since there were bars on the windows to protect people from falling out, and most of the patrons did not know of the existence of a special back door from the large back room of the space.

      As Christopher Rice, who narrates this film and has written extensively about the event, and others such as Luther Boggs later reported the immediate events, summarized on Wikepedia,

 

“At 7:56PM, a buzzer from downstairs sounded, and bartender Buddy Rasmussen, an Air Force veteran, asked Luther Boggs to answer the door, anticipating a taxi cab driver. Boggs opened the door to find the front staircase engulfed in flames, along with the smell of lighter fluid. Rasmussen immediately led some 20 patrons out of the back exit to the roof, where the group could access a neighboring building's roof and climb down to the ground floor. Others saw the floor to ceiling windows as the most promising means of escape despite the fact that there were safety bars on the windows with a 14-inch gap between them to prevent dancers from breaking through the glass. Several people managed to squeeze through, some still burning when they reached the ground below. Luther Boggs was one who came through the window in flames after pushing his female friend through the gap. The flames on Boggs were extinguished by the owner of a neighboring bar, but he died on the 10th of July (16 days later), from 3rd degree burns to 50% of his body.”


     Some of the men who had escaped found their partners missing and rushed back into the building to find them, only to be consumed in the flames.

    In all, 32 people were killed in the fire, until the 2016 Orlando nightclub shooting, in which 49 people were shot and murdered, the UpStairs Lounge arson attack was deadliest event in gay club history in the US.

    Although Camina’s documentary shows detailed images of the fire and recounts the events from both men and women who experienced the terrible fire itself, the most fascinating and sad aspects of this moving film begin after the fire when concerned figures such as Troy Perry, and others attempted to find a church that would be willing to host a memorial for the victims. Perry’s early presumption was that the arson attack was perhaps related to two other arson attacks on MCC churches at the headquarters in Los Angeles, which resulted in the collapse of the building with no injuries and the complete destruction of their Nashville, Tennessee church in Nashville, Tennessee. Homophobia was clearly behind these events, and it was presumed that the arson fire at the UpStairs Lounge was related.

      The major Catholic Bishop and most other church leaders not only refused their sanctuaries and would not even speak out about the events. Even worse was the media, some of whose members described it as the “fruitfry.” The police department head stated, so the newspaper reported, that this was a bar “frequented by thieves, burglars, and queers.”

       As one survivor speaks, the reaction to the murders spoke to the homophobia not just of the city but of the society in general. Survivors had to return to work the next day and often pretend they hadn’t even heard about it, playing the game of closeted queers of the period: “While instead there was a lump in your throat that could choke you. But that was just part of the play-acting we all learned to do.”

       Both the Mayor, Moon Landrieu and the state Governor Edwards, one commentator suggests thought it was too political risky or simply unnecessary to acknowledge the deaths of gay men. Previously there had been a serious fire in New Orleans that killed 6 people, when the Mayor, Governor Edwards and Archbishop Hannon had made many public statements to the press. Later, a fire at the Howard Johnson’s hotel which killed 10 people, and again all made statements to the press, days of mourning were declared. But none of these men chose to say anything about the

deaths of 32 individuals who died in UpStairs Lounge fire.


       Heroes included, other than Perry himself, Reverend Paul Breton from the MCC church who visited three of the dying patients regularly in the hospital. When he sets up a fund to help the victims, people rose to the occasion; and what he didn’t realize, he explains, is that the process would teach them how to deal later raising support for AIDS.

       When no church seemed available for Revered Perry’s memorial service, Reverend Bill Richardson of St. George’s Episcopal Church offered his space, but was reprimanded by his Bishop, he even offering to resign if his church could not be open to such an act of kindness.

       Perry even considered holding the memorial service on the street outside the burned-out bar.

But finally, Rev. Edward Kennedy of the Methodist Church opened the doors to his church for a filled memorial service. Local businesses even agreed to put up notices for the service.


      As the service came to an end, Kennedy passed a note to Perry telling him that a camera crew and gathered across the street from the church, and offered the congregation of gay people and affected families the possibility of exiting through a side door. Perry explained what the situation was, apologizing for his inability to control what happened outside the building, but offering them the alternative route. A woman in balcony began to scream, “No way. We came in the front door and we’re going to leave through the front door.” Perry claims nobody left by the side door, perhaps one of the first times gay men and women and those who supported their loved ones stood up for themselves and fully faced the camera with pride and a feeling of self-worth.

      Eventually, a suspect was found, Roger Dale Nunez, who had been ejected from the bar earlier in the evening after arguing with several other customers. He had warned to bartender that he would regret it. Nunez who police later found to be suffering from psychiatric problems. He later told a friend that he had squirted the bottom steps with a lighter fluid he had purchase at a local Walgreens before tossing a match. Evidently, the plastic grass covered carpet which the owner had laid down to make the steps attractive immediately caught fire and itself rose up to block any possible exit through the front steps down to the street. Nunez committed suicide in November 1974.

      LGBTQ individuals are perhaps exhausted by watching films documenting their torment and death over the decades, but I would still argue that this film is necessary if we are to know our own pasts and prognosticate about our possible futures.

 

Los Angeles, February 19, 2024

Reprinted from My Queen Cinema blog (February 2024).

Josef Berne | Sweet Kentucky Babe / 1945

fly, fly away

by Douglas Messerli

 

Bob Caver, Eddie Coleman, and Gus Simons (performers), Josef Berne (director) Sweet Kentucky Babe / 1945

 

In another Soundie from 1945, the singing group Day, Dawn and Dusk presented a comic song, “Sweet Kentucky Babe,” this one referring to a female baby played by Gus Simons. Simons begins in a cradle with a small white bib tied around his neck.

      But after the first chorus of the song where Eddie Coleman and Bob Caver sing a cleaned-up version of the original song—losing the demeaning words such as “coon” and most of the fake dialect:


 


'Skeeters am a hummin' on de honey suckle vine,

Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

Sandman am a coming to this little babe of mine,

Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

Silv'ry moon is shining in the heavens up above,

Bobolink am pining for his little lady love,

You is mighty lucky, Babe of old Kentucky,

Close your eyes in sleep.

 

    But suddenly as the tempo increases, the baby jumps out of bed to join in the chorus:

 

Fly away, fly away Kentucky Babe,

fly away to rest, Fly away,

Lay your little head on your poppy's breast.

 

And the original sentimental piece begins to parody itself as the baby suddenly demands that when the nipple is put in mouth he no longer wants milk but “some kosher corn beef … Chinese chop suey, Irish stew, chili beans, and bacon.”  

     Although the music returns to the original sentimental tune and Coleman plants a white baby female baby hat on Simon’s head, the original is deconstructed, enjoyed for the beauty of its tune but parodied for its original sentiment.

     As commentator on the Soundies, Mark Cantor summarizes it:

 

 “‘Sleep Kentucky Babe,’” by white songwriters Adam Geibel and Richard Henry Buck, was part acknowledgment, part parody and caricature, of an African American lullaby. The song was performed by Blacks and Whites alike and was a hit in 1896. The sentimental nature of the song, however, is undercut by the use of such words and phrases as ‘coon’ and ‘kinky woolly head.’

    But not so in this version. Set in a well-appointed living room, with the group members nattily dressed – this includes “Bot” Simons, the baby – the trio overlays parody upon parody, making a mockery of the original lyrics.”

 


     That parody is visualized by the very fact that Simons is being asked to alternate his role as a member of the singing trio and a female baby who is told several times to lay her head down on her pappy’s breast, as Coleman leans into hug Simons, who cries like a baby and attempts to escape. Moreover, they use the lyrics themselves to hint at they attitude toward the original’s values, not only repeating the “fly fly away line” but adding in several phrases to “shoo” the old off and present it in a new light.

     In short, by singing so beautifully while still mocking its minstrel-like black dialect, the group redeems the original, and turns it into a joyous comic romp.

       I have printed the original lyrics of the song below.*

 

* KENTUCKY BABE

 

'Skeeters am a hummin' on de honey suckle vine,

Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

Sandman am a comin' to dis little coon of mine,

Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

Silv'ry moon am shinin' in de heabens up above,

Bobolink am pinin' fo' his little lady love,

You is mighty lucky, Babe of old Kentucky,

Close yo' eyes in sleep.

 

[Chorus]

Fly away, fly away Kentucky Babe,

fly away to rest, Fly away,

Lay yo' kinky woolly head on yo' mammy's breast,

Um Um close yo' eyes in sleep.

 

Daddy's in the canebrake wid his little dog and gun,

Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

Possom fo' yo' breakfast when yo' sleepin' time is done,

Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

Bogie man 'll ketch yo' sure unless yo' close yo eyes,

Waitin' jes' outside de doo' to take yo' by surprise,

Bes' be keepin' shady, Little colored lady,

Close yo' eyes in sleep.

 

Los Angeles, February 19, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (February 2024).

Josef Berne | Faust / 1945

tall skinny mamma

by Douglas Messerli

 

Bob Caver, Eddie Coleman, and Gus Simons (performers), Josef Berne (director) Faust / 1945

 

The singing group of Day, Dawn, and Dusk, appearing in one of over 300 Soundie short films featuring black performers from 1940-1946, begin with a rendition of Gounod’s opera Faust, with Bob Caver at the piano, Gus Simons playing Méphistophélès, and Eddie Coleman performing as Marguerite in drag. When Marguerite actually begins with the rendition of her famous aria as she refuses to join Méphistophélès, sung beautifully in French, Simons sings a pastiche of several silly patter songs to accompany her in what was originally a trio.


     Finally rid of both, the devil and Marguerite join in the lively popular song, “Let’s dance, big boy, let’s dance,” Coleman still in drag costume.

     As film historian Derek Le Beau points out: “He [Coleman] is wearing a tuxedo beneath the dress. It becomes a way for the singer to hold onto his masculinity without being too ‘feminine’ and it works to draw attention to the fact he’s playing a part. It can also be argued that it does the reverse as well; by drawing attention to his masculinity while he’s singing about wanting to cozy- up to another man definitely adds a level of queerness to the musical number.”

     Coleman sings out: “Let’s dance, big boy, let’s dance,” to which the other two respond, “Whatcha waiting for tall skinny momma?”

 


     The Soundies, basically focusing on black entertainers not able to participate in the Hollywood films, were also, as Le Beau points out, not subject to the tight restrictions of the film code: “In Soundies, Black performers had more freedom to use their own stage acts and even appear in roles that didn’t fall into the usual tropes and stereotypes usually seen in mainstream films.”

      One might observe that Joseph Breen and his committee probably simply didn’t care much about these shorts, given their racist and sexist attitudes, and the 3-minute programmers, mostly made for black audiences, simply flew under the radar.

      In this work the performers certainly seem to have more fun than most of the singers of the standard Hollywood film musicals.

      Day, Dawn, and Dusk also did a short film on the opera Rigoletto, but apparently did not appear in drag in that work. But they did play with the notion of a female baby in their famous Sleep Kentucky Babe, also of 1945, which I review below.

    Letterboxd lists the director of Faust mistakenly as being William Forest Crouch, who was the executive producer.

 

Los Angeles, February 19, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (February 2024).

Howard Hawks and Arthur Rosson | Red River / 1948

what the night does to a man

by Douglas Messerli

 

Borden Chase and Charles Schnee (screenplay, based on a story by Borden Chase), Howard Hawks and Arthur Rosson (directors) Red River / 1948

 

Howard Hawks' 1948 film, Red River, is certainly one of the greatest of Hollywood westerns. If its plot and even cinematography is a bit old-fashioned, the inter-relationships between characters and the film’s presentation of a stampede, Indian attacks, and the plain dust and dirt of a cattle drive are incomparable.

 

    I've never truly been a John Wayne fan, although I've enjoyed several of the movies in which he acted. But here, as the autocratic rancher Thomas Dunson, Wayne comes alive in the role, playing it at both ends, from the hard-hearted, stubbornly overbearing settler to the sometimes surprisingly tender and sympathetic man, worn out by the loss of his sweetheart to Indians and the years of hard work he has put into creating his ranch. As director John Ford is rumored to have said:  "I didn’t know the big son of a bitch could act."

    Part of Wayne's power comes about because of those with whom he is cast. Walter Brennan, playing Wayne's right-hand man, nurse, and conscience, Nadine Groot, not only serves as chorus of Dunson's acts, but puts much of the serious goings-on into a humorous perspective. Without him, the entire film would be much darker, and clearly less enjoyable. Groot does his own serious mumbling—throughout the film Dunson demands he speak up and talk more clearly, but he has lost his teeth to Chief Yowiachie (Quo)—commenting on his employer's often brutal behavior. But his homespun observations pepper the action with a hardheaded wit, as when two strangers appear in the distance:

 

                               Never liked seeing strangers. Maybe it's because no stranger

                               ever good-newsed me.

 



   At the other side of Dunson (Wayne) sits his adopted son, Matt Garth (broodingly and beautifully played by Montgomery Clift). Although tough in his own way—after having seen the Indians destroy his family and, later, having served in the Civil War—he is a far gentler and ruminative version of Dunson. Dunson has certainly plotted out his path in life, but Garth time again describes himself as having "figured it out." Unlike Dunson, he has done serious thinking about the choices before him, and ultimately, despite his loyalty to Dunson and his love for him, that difference in perspective will be at the center of their parting ways.

     Both writers and director cleverly underline Garth's differences with Dunson by suggesting opposing sexualities. In fact, the film books report Wayne and Brennan did not at all get along with the homosexual Clift, keeping their distance throughout the shooting. Others involved in the film were worried that John Ireland (playing the cowboy Cherry Valance) and Clift might not get along because of different and outspoken political views. But it is Valance and Garth in this nearly all-male epic, who invoke any possibility of sexuality. From their very first meeting, the two obviously discover in each other a deep sensuality, which is played out in the nearly over-the-top exchange of guns and the shooting competition which follows, recently satirized in the Coen brother's True Grit.

 

Cherry: That's a good-looking gun you were about to use back there. Can I see it? (Matt turns, strokes his nose with his thumb and looks a bit amused, then hands his gun over. Cherry takes the gun.) And you'd like to see mine. (Cherry draws his own and reciprocates by handing it to Matt. Cherry examines Matt's gun.) Nice! Awful nice! (Looking somewhat sideways at Matt) You know, there are only two things more beautiful than a good gun: a Swiss watch or a woman from anywhere. You ever had a good Swiss watch?


Matt: (pointing toward a tin can in the distance) Go ahead! Try it! (Cherry fires a shot and knocks a can into the air. Matt also hits the can in the air with a shot of his own)

Cherry: Hey! That's very good! (Matt shoots at another can, knocking it into the air. Cherry hits it in the air with a shot of his own.)

Matt: Hey! Hey! That's good too! Go on! Keep it going!

 

It's clear their shooting serves them as a kind of orgasm that they hope may never end.

     One can only presume, given nearly everyone's revelation of this scene, that the people in the Hayes office were so literal-minded and stone deaf that they could not comprehend the laden sexuality of the lines. In any event, from that first meeting on, despite Groot's prediction that the two will end up fighting, there is a deep relationship between them, including Matt's obvious jealousy when Cherry hooks up with a girl in a passing wagon train. Whether it's true or not, as the trivia people claim, that Ireland and Clift actually were having an affair during the shooting of this film (Ireland was married to Elaine Sheldon at the time), they hint at a simmering love on camera, or at least, an almost uncontrollable fascination with one another.

       This, in turn, further underscores the impending alienation between father and son. Dunson is a strong-headed conservative, determined to try no new routes to the Midwest, despite the near-starvation and exhaustion of his crew. Rules are rules and, as his cowboys sneak away, they are rounded up to be shot or even hung, after which Dunson, as he puts it, "reads over them," as if the burial and service redeemed his acts.

      The more sensitive and thoughtful Matt, a softhearted soul, as both Dunson and Valance have described him, cannot tolerate the hanging of two defectors. Grabbing the reins of the cattle run and sending his own father off into the wilderness alone, Matt is determined to move in a new direction along the Chisholm Trail, leading to Abilene where, it is rumored, a railroad now runs.

     The question remains, of course, whether they'll get there before Dunson rounds up other men and returns to kill his "softhearted" son.

      One of the most spectacular scenes of the film is the Texans' arrival in the city of Abilene, where they are heartily greeted as they drive thousands of long-horn cattle through the streets, accompanied as always, by Dimitri Tiomkin's powerful score. The terms they're offered create a financial windfall for the cowboys. But vengeance, we know, is certain to rear its ugly head.

     Dunson returns with new men intent upon accomplishing his blind, cold-hearted vision, despite the wise observations of Groot. Demanding that Matt draw, Dunson is ready for the showdown, which Matt refuses him, throwing away his gun. Inevitability seems to have won the day, until Matt's new girl, Tess Millay (Joanne Dru), interrupts the fight by drawing a gun on both men, insisting that they face their love for one another.

      It's an irony that strangely could never be played out in real life. It's also worth noting that Ireland divorced his first wife a year later, marrying Dru, as if she were a trophy won away from the Matt Garth character Clift portrays—a marriage which lasted until 1956, the year in which Clift's automobile accident basically destroyed his career, described as "the longest suicide in Hollywood history."

    Two years after his accident, Clift turned down the role offered him in Hawkes' Rio Bravo, a role reassigned to Dean Martin, a drunk with a clearly heterosexual history, but with homoerotic emotions for the character played by Wayne.

     But let us forget all that: this film says everything that needs to be said. 

 

Los Angeles, March 4, 2011

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (March 2011).

 

 

Joel Coen and Ethan Coen | O Brother, Where Art Thou? / 2000

in a tight spot

by Douglas Messerli

 

Joel Coen and Ethan Coen (screenwriters and directors) O Brother, Where Art Thou? / 2000

 

You can almost hear the Coen boys giggling when they prefaced their comedic masterwork, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, with a translation of the opening line of Homer’s The Odyssey, "O Muse! Sing in me, and through me tell the story..." The story they tell is not exactly Homer’s, but it has enough clever parallels to please almost any classicist and pique the interest of almost any literate moviegoer.


      The escape from the Parchman Farm by Ulysses Everett McGill (George Clooney) chained—for life it seems—to the not so very bright Pete (John Turturro) and Delmar (Tim Blake Nelson) begins with a hilarious attempt for the three to hitch a ride on a freight car. Ulysses (better known as Everett in the Coens' telling) makes it on, and, finally Pete, as Delmar fails, pulling the other two back to earth with the recognition that, like the mythical man, the foolishness and mutiny of his crew will result in failure for the hero time and again. He is, after all, the only one of three with the ability of abstract thought. 

     Everett has told them he has buried $1 ½ million he has stolen from an armored car, a treasure that needs to be retrieved quickly before it is flooded over in the creation a new hydroelectric project in Arkabulta Lake. Yet the three are apparently going nowhere—that is until they meet up with Tiresias, the blind prophet who predicts their future, while carrying them away on a slow-moving railroad hand car.

     At Pete’s cousin’s house they are freed from their chains, whereupon Everett carefully applies his Dapper Dan pomade, (later the self-conscious lothario is seen wearing a hair-net), one of his ridiculous eccentricities that gets him into trouble throughout their voyage. And no sooner do they get a moment to rest in the cousin’s barn than their Poseidan, the sheriff, rolls in, the cousin having turned them in for monetary reward. If Ulysses was a hero, this modern-day version is a terrified fool, shouting over and over again, “We’re in a tight spot!” Despite a fire, they escape.

     They are now stuck in the middle of nowhere, sitting in a field as they ponder what each may do with their money. Everett will return to his family, he declares, while Pete is determined to become a maitre’d; Delmar plans to buy a family farm.

     Before long they are the road again, this time to encounter the Lotus Eaters in a mass gathering of religious congregation of seemingly hypnotized believers heading toward the river to be have their sins washed away. The event is so mesmerizing that Delmar quickly joins in, joyful in having a chance for a new start.

     Their accidental meeting with a young black man, Tommy Johnson (Chris Thomas King) who claims to have sold his soul to the Devil, leads the trio onward in the direction of a small radio station in the middle of nowhere, ending with their being paid to make a record; the movie is transformed to a musical, Tommy, an excellent guitarist, joining the three who now call themselves The Soggy Bottom Boys, in a rendition of “Man of Constant Sorrow.”



     Unknowingly to them, the song becomes one of the most popular pieces of music in the South. The Coens’ movie score, which includes dozens of bluegrass and country western classics, won a Grammy award for the album of 2002, bringing platinum sales of 7,421,000 copies sold in the US by October 2007. Several of the film’s real singers gathered for a concert tour, “Down on the Mountain,” which itself was filmed.

      Other adventures follow. At one point a lone car arrives to save the day, but within, we soon discover, sits a young bank robber, Pretty Boy Floyd, as if the trio had suddenly entered another film like Dillinger or The Grapes of Wrath. Perhaps, in fact, they have, for the writers-directors have not only layered their comic froth with references to The Odyssey but riddled it through with a whole series of Hollywood films. The title itself is a reference to Preston Sturges’ comic masterpiece, Sullivan’s Travels, a movie whose scenes parallel those of the Coens' work throughout, particularly when they later sit in a theater where their former prisoner cronies are brought in for a moment of pleasure en masse.

     Accordingly, it is not surprising that the three participate with Floyd’s brazen bank robbery, following it up with another Odyssean encounter, this time with the sirens. Upon awaking in a daze, Everett and Delmar find Pete’s clothes without him in them. When a small toad pops out of Pete’s coat, Delmar is convinced that he has been transformed, as were some of Ulysses’ men, into a beast—instead of a pig, in this case into a frog.

      The two soon meet up with a traveling bible salesman right of Flannery O’Connor, who promises to involve them in the business. But as soon as the two join up with for a country picnic with the one-eyed salesman (the incomparable John Goodman), this Cyclops wallops them over their heads and steals their money.

      A later hitch takes them back through the chain gang where they discover Pete has again ended up, having divulged the fact of the treasure and their destination. By this time, however, the movie has grown so giddy (at least its creators have) that the hero admits it has all been a grand whopper; there is no treasure! He was arrested not for stealing but for passing himself off as a lawyer, and his goal all along has been to return to and reclaim his own Penelope, Penny (Holly Hunter), a woman who has told his children that he’d been hit by a train and has since taken up with Vernon T. Waldrip, an effete man who, we later discover, is involved with the Ku Klux Klan.


     Another escape results in their accidental confrontation with a grand Klan meeting, where they discover Tommy Jones is about to be hung. This time, the reference is to another kind of musical, The Wizard of Oz,, where, like the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion observing the evil army of the Wicked Witch, they quickly change into the clothes of the enemy, grabbing Tommy and escaping once more.

     It hardly matters that behind this new adventure lies a couple of battling governors right out Finian’s Rainbow (one of them the Grand Dragon of the Klan). The adventurers, transforming themselves once again into singing sensations, win the day for the good old boy incumbent, outing the would-be upstart. A full pardon is granted, but before the boys can let out even a Hallelujah, Everett’s Penelope proclaims she will not take him back until he has retrieved her ring!

     Strangely enough, accordingly, the Coens' shaggy-dog tale ends up in Wagner, as the three return to the very same cabin nearby which Everett once told them he had buried the treasure. The sheriff, having done digging up of his own, awaits their arrival, and this time it truly does look like they’re in a tight spot from which they cannot possibly escape.

     Remember that hydroelectric project? Well, today is that day, the water flooding over the region, helping them to escape yet once again, ring safely in Everett’s hot little hands, as our weary heroes return home.

     But just as in The Ring Cycle, the whole thing has the potential to begin all over again, particularly when Penelope announces that he has returned with the wrong ring!!

 

Los Angeles, February 21, 2001

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (February 2001).

 

My Queer Cinema Index [with former World Cinema Review titles]

Films discussed (listed alphabetically by director) [Former Index to World Cinema Review with new titles incorporated] (You may request any ...