Sunday, June 9, 2024

Uriel Torten | שעשני כרצונו (She'asani Kirtzono) (By His Will) / 2021

the sacred embraces the profane

by Douglas Messerli 

Uriel Torten (screenwriter and director) שעשני כרצונו (She'asani Kirtzono) (By His Will) / 2021 [16 minutes]

Teenager Elisha (Ido Tako) is being raised in a traditional Jewish religious institution and feels not only the regular teenage angst for the separateness of his life, but is simultaneously beginning to feel an attraction to men. This truly open-minded and sympathetic film—which attempts to present the important pulls of both popular culture and religious tradition—with him standing outside of a

door wherein people is age ae celebrating a rather wild party. The girls who arrive recognize almost immediately that he the host’s friend, an invite him in, but in the very act he displays his wide-eyed wonderment at the exciting dancing and sexual activity going on around him, and the necessity of removing of kippa.


      And in the very next frames we observe him davening to his religious studies, with altering frames of his dressing for the party. We recognize almost immediately, according, that this young man is being tortured by his attempt to live in both worlds, those of his peers outside of school, and those within his religious institution.

       Even observing his best friend Daniel (Nir Magen) in the religious setting—someone to whom he’s clearly attracted and with him he has obviously been regularly meeting—sends him running from the room. As he attempts to explain it to is friend: “I don’t know what to do. I have no control over things that happen to me. It’s as if my life is just part of someone else’s grand plan.”


      Daniel simply cannot comprehend what Elisha is talking about. Is it part God’s plan he’s talking about. But Elisha cannot explain it, knowing that the feelings he’s having are not, according to his religious beliefs, what God would plan for him. That bifurcation of the holy and his sensual world feelings his mind and body are telling him about himself are at the center of this short film, which shows the teenage attempting to match up “His will” or God’s will with his own.


        Even his parents have recognized that his behavior recently has been different, and in the attempt to be understanding and loving attempt to understand what it is their son is feeling. Daniel also attempts to call him, but it is unclear whether he know what is truly at the heart of his friend’s problem, although we do see Elisha kissing him on the lips after his previous conversation with at the school. And even the Rabbi notices that his excellent student is now distracted. Although Rabbi attempts to discuss the problems he’s been noticing, and like Elisha’s father is kind in his attempts to comprehend the change in behavior, he also declares it unacceptable.

      It is soon established that he has come very close to having sex with another boy at the part, Idan (Itay Koren), who is frustrated by Elisha’s confused feeling which makes it even more difficult for Elisha to determine whether to follow his religious beliefs or his secular desires.

       Returning from the party Elisha explains his lack of wearing a kippa was that he met up “someone there, but things with her didn’t go as I wanted.” He is finally able to admit to his father that it appears that God has a grand plan for him and that he himself as no part in it. But the father’s answer that “Man plans and God laughs” is surely not what the frightened boy wants to hear to heal the sense of being pulled apart in two directions.

        “It wasn’t a her,” he admits. “It was a him.” His father hugs him close in painful acceptance.


      Back at school, Elisha meets up again with his friend Daniel, the two sitting together hoping to find a way back to their friendship. Daniel puts out an open hand, to which, at first, Elisha closes his own into a fist before finally putting his own hand into that of his friend. Perhaps there is a way to bring his sexual desires and his religious training together.

 

Los Angeles, June 9, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (June 2024).

 

Michael Tringe | Dirty Love / 2006

getting to know the territory

by Douglas Messerli

 

Michael Tringe (screenwriter and director) Dirty Love / 2006 [6 minutes]

 

In Michael Tringe’s tense 6-minute film, a young teen boy Derik (Dustin Varpness) living in a small Western town becomes fed up with his life, particularly after a school day when he discovers his truck marked up with the word “Fag,” and toilet-paper fully covering it over.


     The naïve boy catches the first train to Los Angeles and spends the day wandering Hollywood, West Hollywood and environs, buying a new orange hoodie for the evening. As he walks down the street a pimp (Matt Ryan) quickly points the boy out to his hustler (D. T. Matias), handing him the keys to a warehouse. The hustler leads the kid to the warehouse and, after allowing few a few moments of heavy, nervous breathing from the teen, begins to make love to him, pickpocketing the kid’s billfold.

 

     By the time the pimp arrives, he’s kicked the billfold toward the door, and when the boy, hearing the noise made by the pimp begins to bolt, the hustler bends to pick up the billfold which contains the kid’s money, cards, and probably his major identification.

    For some reason, perhaps remembering his own arrival in town which led him to his current profession, he can’t bring himself to pick-up the billfold, which Derick soon after finds before going on the run.

 

     Derick returns home, a fresh smile on his face that surely includes the fact that he is now safe, but perhaps also embraces a feeling for the first time in his life of the realization that he is gay and, recalling that hustler’s kiss, knows he will truly enjoy sex when he encounters the right guy.

      If nothing else, he now perceives who he truly is, and is no longer afraid of the word used by locals to abuse and attack him.

   Although the tape I watched on Daily Motion 18 years after its original release has severely deteriorated, one can still see that the young University of Southern California director Tringe had an eye for creating some powerful images, and he has gone on the produce several further films.

     

Los Angeles, June 9, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (June 2024).

Fred C. Newmeyer | A Sailor-Made Man / 1921

the sailor’s dance

by Douglas Messerli

 

Jean Havez, Hal Roach, Sam Taylor, and H.M. Walker (screenplay), Fred C. Newmeyer (director),

A Sailor-Made Man / 1921

 

While many of Harold Lloyd comedies feature Lloyd as a weakling, a nerd, and certainly a passive being who at moments is even able to go along with momentary incidents of crossdressing, by and large his comedies are grounded in heterosexual resolution. He struggles to get the girl and often ends up marrying her or at least coming to a positive situation in their relationship.


      That trajectory is at the heart of A Sailor-Made Man, the Fred C. Newmeyer comedy featuring Lloyd from 1921. Lloyd, The Boy, begins as a cane-twirling rich young playboy endowed with all the privilege in the world but without a clue how to best to use it. A self-centered weakling, this Boy sits down on a chair the moment its resident stands to greet someone, hands total strangers his hat and cane, and simply walks around lines entering spaces and rooms that are notably there to exclude others.

      When the beautiful young girl, The Girl (Mildred Davis) suddenly appears at the seaside resort at which he is vacationing, he fails to immediately note her entry as the other young males rush to her side; and when he does attempt to introduce himself, the other boys crowd round her a bit like buffalo, with heads creating an impervious circle at the center of which stands the beauty.

    When The Boy finally encounters The Girl to her face, he wastes no time in suggesting they immediately get married, a further sign of his total lack of social reference.

       As commonly occurs in Lloyd films, her response is to ask her father, which The Boy immediately proceeds to do, the busy businessman responding that it’s impossible until he gets a job and proves his worth.

     So naïve is The Boy, that he doesn’t even take it personally but literally goes out looking for employment, encountering a sign posted outside a small storefront: “Join the Navy.”  He enters and immediately forgoing the long line sits down at the Officer’s desk, pours himself out a glass a water, hands his cane and hat to the Navy recruiter and, offering him a chair, explains that he has decided to “join your Navy.”

       Obviously, he does not impress; but he told to come back in a couple of hours for a physical.

     The Boy returns to the beach where The Girl has just been told by her father that to escape his business activities, he is taking his daughter and anyone she wants to invite on a trip on their yacht around the world; they may not return for years. Gathered around her are those she has invited and upon seeing The Boy with a cane once again, she eagerly invites him to join them. The Boy joyfully agrees, immediately rushing back to the Navy recruiter to tell him that he’s changed his mind. So, evidently, has the recruiter, if he had any questions about The Boy’s abilities he is now determined to demand he keep faith with the signed document, as Lloyd is trussed off for a physical that he cannot fail. The Boy, whether he likes it or not, is now a Navy man.

        In very next frame, The Boy is on board a Navy vessel on his way to somewhere in an imaginary Far East. We soon observe a very different world from the usual Harold Lloyd film as we witness all the Navy boys dancing together, a moment of joy to pass the time in their loneliness. This is an odd homoerotic scene set down in the middle of the usual Lloyd antics, and for a moment, when the men move even closer together in their dancing, holding one another the way men and women dance together we perceive an almost unthinkable if realist phenomenon that would seeming be unthinkable to a Hollywood film even in the less censored period of 1921.


      That year had very little evidence of LGBTQ behavior in its films, almost all of them involving crossdressing, a basically heterosexual trope that allowed men to make others laugh by performing, generally unconvincingly, as women. It had little to do a sexuality. The only serious movie with LGBTQ substance of that year was the German film starring Asta Nielsen, Hamlet, a brave film that suggested a transgender reconsideration of the Danish tragic hero. There was nothing that Hollywood produced that contained such possible homoerotic power as the scene from Lloyd’s A Sailor-Made Man, whose title might even be thought to be somewhat controversial. Obviously, the director and his writers needed a kind of scapegoat, an individual that could renormalize the situation by showing up its apparent perversity. The only man not dancing is the clueless Boy and the character that the credits describe as “The Rowdy Element” (Noah Young), the bully with whom the weakling Boy shares a cabin.

    An Officer seeing Rowdy refusing to participate orders him to dance, and when the character turns and puts his hands up as if in defense of the request, The Boy interprets it as an invitation to a waltz, puts his arm around him, and dances off, with the Officer approvingly watching. The minute the office turns away, the Rowdy begins to slug his dancing partner, returning to dance when the Officer turns his gaze upon him once again, the pattern following for a least three long pans of the camera. Early LGBTQ commentator Vito Russo nicely analyzes the situation:

 

“Lloyd, ever the victimized weakling, dances with the sadistic bully of the story, who cuffs him soundly whenever the captain turns his back. Thus the effeminate man, the symbol of weakness, takes it on the chin for everyone, becoming the scapegoat for the unstated homoerotic activity of the real but insecure men around him. Using in each case male intimacy as the thing all males secretly dread, the issue is raised indirectly yet goes unmentioned. In this way, the sissy remained asexual while serving as a substitute for homosexuality.”


     In a real sense, this film returns to the very roots of LGBTQ cinema, with something similar to the dance of the so-called “Gay Brothers” in The Dickson Experimental Sound Film of 1894.

     But the relationship between the two doesn’t end with that scene. Soon after, the still angry Rowdy, furious with The Boy tosses his kit out the door, hitting the Captain in the head. The officer storms into the room insisting to know who threw it and why. The Boy, obviously more fearful of his bully roommate that any punishment the officer might dole out, admits that it is his kit and takes responsibility for the act. For his behavior he is told to swab the deck, which he proceeds to do.

      The Rowdy, stunned by his roommate’s taking on the blame for his own acts, changes his views of his weakling roommate and watches him for a while as The Boy carefully washes down the deck, finally reporting to the Officer that he two was involved with the offense. Accordingly, he also he asked to clean the deck and joins The Boy in the scrub.

      Meanwhile, a group of other sailors, seeing the two engaged in the action, mock and imitate the two, the large-muscled man and the thin, bespectacled Boy working together in an earnest attempt to clean the ship. 

 

    A few minutes later The Boy observes the Officer has joined in conversation with other officer, momentarily laying down his hat. The Boy rushes to retrieve it, and from the corner shouts out to the other sailors, hat on his head, for them to immediately begin swabbing down the deck, an order seeing the cap, they immediately obey.

      Observing them all joining in on the task, the Rowdy looks up and perceives what has happened, joining his companion to praise his ingenuity, the two of them now laughing at the others the way they have previously treated them. But almost immediately the Captain reaches back to find his hat, only to perceive it on the nearby sailor’s head. Finally realizing he’s been caught again, The Boy sheepishly hands it back to the Captain, the latter of whom when he sees all the men at work, realizes what has happened and smiles before opening up in a laugh. The Boy has passed his first test in demonstrating his agility of thought. He and the Rowdy go off together, almost as friends.


      At another point The Boy comes across the Navy boxing champion working out in his gloves alone. As Lloyd watches behind the fighter, he poses along with some of the moves, and finally observing a pair of gloves laying nearby puts them on, and once more mimics the boxer’s actions behind his back. Suddenly, however, the boxer turns and seeing him “suited up,” so to speak, challenges him to a match. The Boy, ever passive, seems no have no other choice, proceeding to put up his arms as the boxer punches in in the chin, sending him across the deck. The action is repeated; but finally we see a bar of soap upon which The Boy slips, sending him across the floor and into the face of the boxer, knocking him out.

     For a moment The Boy looks down upon the passed-out champion, dazed by the event, but then cracks a small smile of delight, Rowdy coming across him at the very moment, amazed that what he sees, the small-framed sissy having just knocked the boxing king of Navy. As the boxer begins to come two, The Boy joins arms with his roomy and hurries off the two having now become fast friends, and The Boy having now passed the second test, one of bodily prowess.


     All he needs prove now is that he can love, to which the rest of the film is devoted as both the yacht party and the sailors go ashore simultaneously in the dangerous city of Khairpura-Bhandanna where the beautiful Girl has just caught the eye of the local Maharajah (Dick Sutherland) who is suddenly determined to kidnap her and hold her in his harem.

      The Boy and The Girl inevitably meet up in delight and touring the market discover a magician who makes The Girl disappear as two of the Maharajah’s men snuggle her off. Once he realizes what has just happened, Lloyd races after. For the last fourth of the film, The Boy bravely enters the palace, escapes various attacks, and finally frees The Girl, returning her to her yacht friends, and family. Just as they are about to kiss, her friends interrupt, and once they have sent them on their way, get ready to kiss once more. But now Rowdy appears, delighted at his roommate’s adventures. When they finally get rid of him, the Navy itself intrudes as it pulls the seaman away in a march back to the boat.

      In the last scenes of the film we see The Boy sending via naval signal flags the message “Will you marry me,” which the yacht’s steersman answers back with “I will!”

      The aimless playboy has come alive with a new sense of mind, body, and love to make up a  real man after all. Perhaps he now deserves to celebrate with a slow dance with Rowdy without any cuffs.

 

Los Angeles, July 12, 2022


Dudley Murphy | The Soul of the Cypress / 1921

high and low / romance and reality

by Douglas Messerli

 

Dudley Murphy (screenwriter and director) The Soul of the Cypress / 1921

 

Given his near life-time attempts to blend “high” art and populist works of commerce, it is not surprising that Dudley Murphy’s first film, The Soul of the Cypress made in 1921, might be classified as an art film. Just three years later, he would collaborate with Fernand Léger, Man Ray, and Ezra Pound on the highly experimental piece that was meant to accompany the musical composition by George Antheil of the same name, Ballet mécanique—a work for which scholars now argue he was the central creator. And even earlier, in 1922, he would produce short films which he titled “Visual Symphonies” that were meant to accompany classical music. In 1933, he would direct a version of Eugene O’Neill’s play The Emperor Jones, and, as I have noted elsewhere, much of his life was spent in the company of figures such as James Joyce, Pound, and other writers, artists, performers, and architects.



      The story of this first film contained elements of several Greek fables, including those centered around the Aphrodite myths and Orpheus and Eurydice. Against the backdrop of the California coastline “wind-swept Cypresses,” a young musician appears, playing his pipe. His beauty and song are so moving that a Dryad trapped within the Cypress boughs, suddenly emerges in what is generally described as a “diaphanous dress,” as she dances closer and closer to the musician seated on a cliff as he performs his song. The various cuts between the two of them are brought into a single frame when she finally nears him, he suddenly observing her presence. An intertitle, however, stops the action, declaring “Unfortunate is he, the legend tells, who falls in love with a Dryad—and more unfortunate he who tries to capture her.”


     As the two reappear, she turns away with the musician on the chase. The intertitle tells us that she longs for him but is afraid of “mortal touch,” as she quickly dissolves back into the base of the Cypress. From her safe-haven, however, she tells him that the only way they can be together is for him to give his life up to the sea so in immortality his “Song of the Sea” will serve as a lullaby for her locked away with the Cypress tree.


     For a short while, the musician debates what course to take, fearful of giving up life but still longing for the beauty he has so briefly witnessed. But finally realizing that he cannot live without her, he moves quickly to the highest cliff and leaps from off to the rocks below. Once more the Dryad reappears from the tree telling us, through the intertitle, that now the “Song of the Sea” and the “Soul of the Cypress” are intertwined for eternity, both singing in the waves and wind that whistles through the Cypress and along with the moon hurries the waves to shore.

      The short film, as critic David E. James reports in his 2003 Film Quarterly essay, “Soul of the Cypress: The First Postmodernist Film?,” premiered at the famed Rivoli Theater on Broadway as a prologue to the feature work Conquest of Canaan. The film was evidently successful enough that it was booked at the Rialto for another week, and received positive reviews in four New York dailies: the New York Globe, The New York Times, Film Daily, and Wid’s Daily. James notes that Wid’s Daily…emphasized the excellence of the photography as “some of the best work yet accomplished in this line,” and noted that “a great deal of attention is given to composition and tone, and some of the lighting effects are most beautiful.”

      Today, the highly romantic short does not appeal to our tastes, but its cinematic qualities are still apparent, and in this short work we can perceive the talent that would flourish in his later films.

       The Library Congress holds the only known surviving print of the film, but attached to the original is another shorter piece with different actors. James describes in full what follows, and since apparently he is one of the few who have seen the cinematic add-on, I’ll quote him at length:

 

“…Rather than being concluded by an end title, the dryad’s reverie is interrupted by a rude injunction, “Explain this!” And suddenly the film cuts to a shot of a beautiful woman (not the dryad), visible from breasts to knees as she lies across the bottom of the frame. Apart from thin stockings, she is entirely naked, with her pubis centered in the image. Looking down on her, a naked man (not the musician) scrutinizes it, running his fingers through her pubic hair, shaking his head as if in disbelief or amazement. The lovers are together on a picnic rug with their clothes scattered around, clearly in some rural area. The camera pans along the woman’s body to reveal her face; she looks at the camera and then back to the man. After a title, “We’ll have time—if we hurry,” she changes her position, spreading her legs and proffering her vagina directly to the camera and the spectator in a composition that recalls the cleft in the cypress that the dryad had entered…. With a change in angle, the man climbs on top of her, and as they apparently copulate, two shots of exploding fireworks are intercut—nondiegetic metaphors that, as in countless amateur underground films in the 1960s and then in the signal crossover porn film, Deep Throat (1972), signify orgasmic pleasure.


     The man rolls off the woman, though she continues to toy with his penis. Another cut introduces a schoolboy in Victorian costume excitedly staring out of the frame to match her eyeline, and then the title, “What—again?” articulates her unsatiated desire. After a title, “Turning back the pages of memory,” the film reverts to the shot of the dryad still looking down into the roiling ocean; and as she stands, the sun sets in the sea behind the trees. A question mark fills the screen, then more titles lead into the final credits: ‘Educational pictures: The Spice of the Program’ and ‘FINIS: An

Ensign Picture.’ A Spanish dancer removes a fan from her face and smiles briefly into the camera before the final title: ‘The End of The Soul of the Cypress.’”

 

     Although no one knows the full history of the cannister owned by the Library of Congress titled “Soul of the Cypress and Miscellaneous Sex Scenes,” James suggests that perhaps some aficionado or enterprising exhibitor spliced the two together, although it appears the pornographic scenes had been filmed at the same locations, so are likely the work of Murphy himself.

      What James argues is that the pornographic addendum, which relates directly to what could not be shown in the original in the commercial venues where it appeared—the physical attraction to the Dryad and her desire for him which is completely represented in the metaphor of physical removal and death, the tropes of all great romantic literature—in its raucous literalization comments on the very culture which represses such expressions and serves, accordingly as a far more avant-garde statement than the original “experimental” mime. It belongs to a long underground tradition of showing an art film in which, after the police have sniffed it out to make certain that it meets the moral codes of the culture, the projectionist brings out the pornographic tapes that the customers have paid to see under the code of “art film.” And accordingly, as James’ title suggests, he finds it to serve a similar role as post-modern “winking” and “coded commentary.”

     Of course, as I have shown in the LGBTQ films I review from that period, the filmmakers of the day were perfectly capable at winking and coding their own works long before there was a notion of “camp” cinema or post-modernism. Indeed, I point to the moment in Roscoe Arbuckle’s 1917 film Coney Island when he begins undress with the intentions of donning a drag costume he “suddenly faces the camera and, in one marvelously post-modern instant, shyly signals the camera and the audience to move their eyes away from his privates while he continues to disrobe. The camera obligingly shifts up to his upper chest, shoulders, and head.”

     Similarly, in Ralph Cedar The Soilers of 1923 and in the British director Adrian Brunel’s Battling Bruisers: Some Boxing Buffonery of 1925 gay figures behave in such an exaggerated manner in their imitation of the standard stereotypes that they rehabilitate their cinematic roles so thoroughly that we can only describe their behavior as “camp,” in just the way we use that word today.

     But in its use of high art and heterosexual pornography, I’d argue that the “revised” version of Murphy’s 1921 film most recalls the French movie of 1920, the year just previous to The Soul of the Cypress, Bernard Natan’s Le Ménage moderne du Madame Butterfly, which thoroughly integrated both heterosexual and gay pornography within its pretense of high art commentary on Puccini’s great opera.

     I might add that I see the young boy in Victorian clothes watching this “astounding real life event” not as James sees it, as an oedipal analogue to the story, but as an emblem of the still basically Victorian audience who might come across the addendum, wide-eyed with equal fascination and horror. And it reminds us that speaking honestly about heterosexual sexual relationships was nearly as impossible throughout the 1920s and particularly after the Hays Board cracked down in 1934, as to speak openly about LGBTQ issues.

     The Soul of the Cypress is in no way a film related to LGBTQ issues in its fully heterosexual depiction of the relationship between the sexes, but I have included my discussion of it in the pages of My Queer Cinema because it helps to reveal how directors such as Murphy—who endured his own scandals concerning his personal sexual behavior (in this film, the Dryad was played by his wife Chase Harringdine, a woman about whom he wrote in his memoirs he never sexually consummated their relationship, while at the same he seemingly had few scruples about having sex with his wife’s friend Katherine Hawley)—learned how to deal with censorship through coding such LGBTQ-related works such as his The Sport Parade and The Emperor Jones.

 

Los Angeles, February 11, 2023

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (February 2023).

 

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 ...