Tuesday, January 28, 2025

Don Siegel | Invasion of the Body Snatchers / 1956 [short version]

the perfect society

by Douglas Messerli

 

Daniel Mainwaring (screenplay), Don Siegel (director), Invasion of the Body Snatchers / 1956

 

“I’m not mad! I’m not mad!” shouts actor Kevin McCarthy at the very beginning of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. With glazed eyes (we soon discover he has not slept for days), unshaven face, disheveled appearance, and crazed shouts, he certainly gives one the sense that he may be quite crazy. And once we, along with the doctor, hear his story about an infection of the citizens of his small California town by extraterrestrial pods which replace people with exact duplicates of themselves, it is hard not to shout out, “lock him up!”


     Despite denials from the director and writer, many viewers and commentators have long read this grade B movie, blessed with the grade A direction of Siegel, as a metaphor of the McCarthy (as in the Wisconsin senator, not the film’s major actor) hearings. Certainly, presented with a world in which otherwise normal and friendly people seemingly turn against their neighbors, informing upon them to the authorities, and attempting to conform them into a society with limited viewpoints and no apparent free speech, one might be tempted to read it this way. But I think that is a mistake. The source of the evil presented here comes from outside the society—outside the known universe—not from within, as did the homegrown American fanaticism of McCarthyism. Moreover, the “heroes” of this would-be parable—the doctor Miles Bunnel, his would-be girlfriend Becky Driskoll, and their friends Jack and his wife, have no high ideals, no particular values at all—except their love and devotion to each other. Of course, many who suffered the purges of McCarthy’s hearings were perhaps no higher idealed than these folk, but there is no attempt to connect them with any values whatsoever, let alone membership in or association with members of an political organization such as the Communist Party.

     Indeed, I would argue that—with its implications of outside intruders and presentment of a society in which the group ethic dominates and wherein, having shed themselves of individualistic goals, people work as units—that the target of this film is, not the right, but the left in the form of communism, which it presents as being so pernicious (I remember the myths of the day in which it was suggested that communism discouraged love between individuals) that even the Wisconsin senator might have embraced the movie.


     But Siegel gets away with it simply because he does not let the modest science-fiction yarn become a political statement. The film seldom loses focus of its four, later two, and finally one, individual(s) at war with the world at large.

     Yet there are hints that the world with which they war is not totally bad. Jack, Miles’ friend, argues that he would find everything to be much better if only he’d embrace the new order. And in the midst of Miles’ and Becky’s most terrifying moments, they hear beautiful music from nearby. Surely love and imagination cannot have died. Miles checks it out only to discover it comes from a shed in which workers are cultivating the deadly pods, and by the time he returns to his beloved Becky, she has joined the “living dead.”

      His race to the freeway is a run for the larger urban culture and away from the single-mindedness of his small town. It is a society which functions, it appears, as he has had to, without sleep. Perhaps he has gone mad. The new society he has entered seems to be a bit crazed in finally believing his tale, agonizing him as one of them, a doctor and a man of conscience and truth. Evidence has been found: a truck full of pods. The doctor orders the military and the police to block all highways in and out of the area. We are left a bit uneasy at the very least. For what do they—all these restless authorities—intend to do, shoot and kill the normal-seeming citizens of Santa Mira and environs? I’m not sure I wouldn’t prefer to return to the perfectly functioning world from which Miles has just escaped.

 

October 2004, Los Angeles

Reprinted from My World 2005

 

 

 

Akira Kurosawa | 用心棒 Yōjinbō (Yojimbo) / 1961

silk and sake

by Douglas Messerli

 

Ryuzo Kikushima and Akira Kurosawa (screenplay, based on a story by Kurosawa), Akira Kurosawa (director) 用心棒 Yōjinbō (Yojimbo) / 1961

 

Most critics describe Akira Kurosawa’s Yojimbo as mixing the Hollywood Western with a Samurai movie, and, in large, part of that seems to be the most appropriate way to describe it. But like its sequel of 1962 Sanjuro, I would also see this film as a kind of dark comedy, even if the earlier film, as Roger Ebert argues, is more “subversive.” Kuwabatake Sanjuro—the name itself is a kind of joke, meaning “30-year-old mulberry field”—may be someone tragic, having lost his social position and reason for existing with the fall of Tokugawa Dynasty, but (played by the highly esteemed Toshiro Mifune), despite his desperation in trying to make a living, he seems in no quick hurry to accept the 50 Ryō from either of the two gangs at war in the small village into which he stumbles.


       Despite his expertise at killing, he almost immediately takes on a new identity: that of a moral arbiter, determined, after hearing the town’s history and observing its citizens’ behavior, that hardly anyone in this nasty little community is worth being alive.

     Taking the high road, quite literally, as he moves up to a bell tower to observe one of the warring gangs’ daily stand-offs, as he further pits the Seibei against the Ushitora group as he negotiates with both to become their bodyguard; to prove his worth, moreover, he quickly dispatches three thugs to their deaths. In short, this ronin’s disparagement of their worth along with the comic gestures assigned them by Kurosawa, turns them into cartoon figures, as they gradually push forward and just as quickly retreat in cowardice. Certainly, the audience can have little feeling for these figures as real human beings.


      Similarly, the director mocks everyone else in this town, using the hilarious Japanese version of High Noon’s peeking-out citizens, too frightened to save their own community through a series sliding doors and windows and opening and closing of shutters. As film critic Michael Richie has astutely noted, all the citizens of this community move in straight lines along rectangular borders, while the would-be bodyguard alone travels at angles and moves into territories in which he is least expected, in this manner overhearing the plot against his own life only minutes after he has made an agreement with the Seibei to work for them.

     Kurosawa further mocks the Western genre by delaying the inevitable show-down by the unexpected arrival of a government official who, being as corrupt as everyone else, is willing to write up a good report if he and his men are awarded by the town’s Seibei-supporting mayor enough in bribes of money and prostitution. The visiting official is so pleased with his treats, he has to be made to leave town by the purposeful killing of a man in a nearby village by the Ushitora gang.

     Even when the director introduces a far more serious problem in the form of the return of the Seibei son, Unosuke (Tatsuya Nakadai)—this time toting a gun, a weapon which now makes him the equal of swordsman Sanjuro—he is so inept with it that he is even more comical than the others. And what immediately follows is not another show-down but a mad series of kidnapping and swaps which involve both sides, particularly when a local farmer’s wife (a couple Sanjuro encountered before entering the town, and who has since been sold into prostitution for her husband’s gambling debt) is kidnapped and traded for Seibei’s son.



     His discovery that the beautiful farm woman has been used by the mayor and others as a prostitute, finally engages the previously aloof Sanjuro, and leads him to visit the farm house, where he kills the guards and frees the women, reuniting her with her husband and son. Yet even here there is a fierce sense of humor as the appreciative family keep returning to express their appreciation to Sanjuro when they should already be on the run.

      War between the feuding factions is now declared, as both silk and sake—the products which help fuel the warring sides—are destroyed, and the hero, again in a parody one might never find in any Hollywood Western—is forced to hide out in large sake vat before he is discovered, imprisoned, and beaten nearly to death. When he finally escapes he hides out, again in a dark comedic trope, in the local cemetery in order to recuperate.



      It is only after the destruction of the Seibei clan by the Ushitora that finally forces the bodyguard to take full action, as he kills the remaining Ushitora members and faces the final man standing, the Seibei son, gun in hand.

     Roger Ebert describes Sanjuro’s passivity in this scene as representing “the act of a samurai aware that his time has passed and accepting with perfect equanimity whatever the new age has to offer.” But it is also the action of a man who sees the comic insanity of the world around him; besides the wild young would-be cowboy can’t shoot straight.

      The still penniless Sanjuro leaves the town, somewhat like one might quit a computer game, with only one bewildered young survivor left alive. The comedy is over.

 

Los Angeles, August 23, 2016

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (August 2016).    

Wiktor Grodecki | Mandragora / 1997

gruesome beauty

by Douglas Messerli

 

Wiktor Grodecki and David Svec (screenplay), Wiktor Grodecki (director) Mandragora / 1997

 

Because of its biological combination of active tropane alkaloids, the mandrake plant (or Mandragora) has a root and leaves that produces anticholinergic, hallucinogenic, and hypnotic effects and is often poisonous. Because of its hallucinogenic and narcotic effects, it was used in ancient times as a surgical anesthetic, and believed to cure sterility and enhance the effects of lovemaking, gradually coming to be described, especially in Hebrew, as a “love plant.” Jacob’s infertile second wife Rachel, barters with Leah for her son’s mandrakes, eventually becoming pregnant. In medieval times and even today, the mandrake is associated with witchcraft.



    The magical love root which is also a potent drug that is dangerous even to the touch—all has significance in the third installment of Polish-born director Wiktor Grodecki’s study of the Czech boy prostitution scene. But in this case, instead of interviewing dozens of male hustlers, the director focuses in on two figures, one who appeared in Body without Soul, David Svec, known only as David in both works, who already in the second of the trilogy seems older and more knowledgeable than his peers, and who now is 16 going on 17, having been in the business, we discover later in the film, since was a child in the Podolí swimming pools—from the evidence of the pictures, of age 9 or 10. Being in the business as long as he has he has not only lost his boyish looks, but his charm. None of Germans and other foreigners want someone beyond his prime.

     By the time he meets Marek (Mirsolav Caslavka), based on David’s real boyfriend, he has become a cynical insider who still, however, feels for the clueless kid who, having just run away from home, has already been “hooked” like a rabbit by the monstrous pimp who scours the railroad station daily for new boys, Honza (Pavel Skirpal), who connects him—after the boy has been beaten up and robbed by other young railroad station prostitutes—drugs him so that a disgusting older customer can fuck the virgin, Marek waking up from the pain.


     By the next evening Honza has introduced him to one of the clubs where Marek is again beaten by older boys who resent the presence of a cute new competitor, afterwards meeting up with David who quite literally takes control of him, introducing him to clients and pimps, while turning Honza into the police who arrest him due to his long record of past convictions and David’s testimony of what he did to Marek—although when the boys are asked to come down to the station to give evidence they understandably go on the run.

    In the meantime, David makes certain that through Marek’s 15-year-old looks and the robberies they together pull off, convincing him that the two can survive in a relationship between the two that evolves, although unsaid, is something close to their being lovers.

     They bring in enough money eventually to begin to imagine how they might invest their “savings,” Marek arguing for a restaurant at the Czech-German border, but David, always the anti-romantic insisting that it has to be a border whorehouse. But we perceive already that there will soon be no savings.

     Marek soon realizes, moreover, that his friend cannot completely be trusted when he takes him to a sleazy game room where several pimps and their “gangs” (color-coded by outfit) hang out. Most of the “gangs” of young boys work the streets or the train stations, but Krysa (Kostas Zerdolaglu) uses his boys in porn films, missing, however, the one essential link he needs to make it big, a “striker,” a beautiful bottom willing to be fucked. His boys, David reports, wear red. Whereas, the more successful Sasha, is in charge of several groups of boys in yellow.


    David, having taken over all their money, invests in his group of boys with Sasha (Karel Polisenský), paying him a substantial amount to become a “partner,” meaning he and Marek will also head up a group of boys. One of his first proofs of commitment, however, requires that Marek hook up with a well-known Czech art connoisseur, who for much of the evening places the boy on a small turning pedestal, handing him a sword in order to appear like a bronze sculpture. Simply watching him as a kind of art object results in a free-handed ejaculation in his dressing gown. But the moment he recovers, he begins to critique what he previously admired about the boy, insisting his balls are too large for Donatello’s David and demanding that something must be done about them.

     Marek attempts to escape, but another man grabs him and takes him into the next room where we can here the boy screaming. It appears that in a kind sadistic act, either he ties knots around the boy’s balls, sticks it with pins, or in some other painful way forces him to suffer. We never know quite what goes on in that room, but when Marek is finally returned to the street he is horrified to know that David knew of his client’s past tortures of boys and nonetheless sent him there. The two briefly take up knives to fight one another, but Marek turns the knife on himself, foretelling his own end. Indeed, from this moment on we recognize that everything that will transpire from here on represents a vortex into hell, as the two spin around each other as doomed boy dreamers in love.


       One might imagine that as the man insisted the beauty would become that night, that Marek suddenly is “awakened.” But still he trusts David, as their bevy of boys do not at all pay for the room, let alone bring them in thousands of crowns as they hoped. The two want out of the deal, but Sasha will not refund their money, offering only to send them out with to a wealthy American customer, a former Czech, Rudy (Pavel Kocí) for no cash except for what they might rob from him.

        Set up in the Praha hotel, the man challenges them to a kind of strip-tease game of pool, where they must take off a piece of clothing for each time he is successful it putting a ball in the pocket, demanding that they play the game also with drinks after each successful pocketing. Finally, they succeed in getting him so drunk that he collapses, the boys scooping up every object of value they can find, David finally discovering the man’s hidden wad of money in the base of small model of the Statue of Liberty.

      This time they are forced to leave town, David taking Marek back to his hometown where he declares the air is fresher. In fact, the ugly, small industrial village where he grew up stinks of bad air, and looks as grim as any place might be. David has brought a bag of gifts for his family, planning to surprise his father on his birthday. He asks Marek to join him, but his friend, tired of family he insists, waits by the car as David walks up the several stairs of a delipidated Communist-built apartment complex where he hangs the package on the doorknob, unable to even to knock at the door.


      We see him quickly sprinting back down the stairs, the young boy he must have been when he first left the building.

      The boys are soon drunk, David completely breaking down over the fact that he hadn’t even the courage to see his father. And suddenly, we recall that he too is still a teenager of only 16, despite his pretense of control over his totally out-of-control life. At a local bar, he attempts to hook up with his old girlfriend, who rejects him, as several men in the bar, tired of seeing young Prague hustlers return to wave their money in their faces, determine to beat and possibly castrate the boys.

     His girlfriend attempts to interrupt their intentions, but when they make it clear to her that he is a male hustler, she backs off, the men beating both boys severely. Time and again David and Marek are beaten by gangs. Even if they might fight back against one or two, they turn only to find others approaching from different directions. One might describe these boys as being gang “raped” again and again by forces of all those in the society who join to destroy them, which, we soon recognize, is nearly everyone outside of a few friends who will themselves turn against them if they are provoked.

      They return to Prague completely broke and broken, unable to function any more as boy prostitutes, now being wanted for their heist. They have no choice but to join up with Krysa in the porn world, Marek gaining favor only by permitting himself to be become Krysa’s missing striker, shocking even David by his willingness to be fucked. 


     Both, however, are terribly uncomfortable in the household where Krysa’s wife and baby boy h ang out in the kitchen offering the duo dinner while in the next open room Krysa prepares for the final series of boy ejaculations. They attempt to leave, but are once more met with others who stand in their way, the boy Libor (Miroslav Breu) who they long ago rejected for his effeminate and drug-addict addiction and a group of others. David finally does escape, but Marek is forced to go through with the shoot, despite the fact that Krysa mocks him when he demands a condom to protect himself. The Germans, the porn director insists, will not permit condoms in their films.

     Without any other recompense, David is now hooked up with foreigner for sex, but almost immediately he recognizes the room: “I’ve been here before.” It is the same room where the boys played pool with and robbed Rudy and, yet again, before he can run he’s met with a team of Rudy’s men, as the disgusting new American now determines to punish him by jamming a pool cue up his ass and allowing his confederates to savagely beat him.



       In the midst of this, Marek suddenly discovers where David is and, as if he might be able to stop events, speeds via taxi to Praha Hotel, only to be turned away at the door, helplessly watching his now bloodied friend be led down by the police and taken away to prison for his previous robbery. Marek himself is now in danger, having been spotted, for his role in the affair.

      Finally, realizing his inability to alter anything and the fact that, despite Libor and other’s enjoinder that he return for another shoot, having become famous in Germany for his last film as a bottom, he begs him for cocaine instead. Marek has previously always refused drugs, but now, having reached bottom, snorts enough almost to knock him out, returning to his room only to have a dream that the absent David has returned, his body covered with the sores of AIDS. And soon after, he is told that indeed David was found in the police hospital to be infected with the disease.

     Meanwhile, Marek’s father (Jiri Pachman) has arrived in the city, almost in a stupor as he tries the various spots where he son might be—and has been—without displaying any of the conversational talents to be able to simply ask about his son’s whereabouts. When he finally attempts to, his inquiry only makes Sasha and others believe he is asking for a boy, and they offer him up another Marek, a boy named Mark. Furious, he begins a brawl, and later shows up at a game room, where a boy that seems to be of 12 or 13 asks him if he wants to have sex with him in the toilet.

     As if stunned, it appears that he is ready to join the boy, as he asks him his different rates for a blow job or anal intercourse, but finally only pays him and leaves, the child prostitute proclaiming that “There are a lot of sick men out there.”

     Meanwhile, perhaps on tip from Marek, the police raid one of Krysa’s shooting sessions where he, in what seems to be an S&M-like film, he is torturing a boy for stealing from him. When the police have left Marek breaks into a utility box outside of Krysa’s apartment which contains a block of heroin in a plastic bag.


     As his father prepares to leave Prague from the train station empty-handed, Marek takes over a bathroom stall, heating up the heroin as he prepares to shoot up, slashing his legs over and over again with a knife while is father, using the bathroom just before his departure stands unknowingly just a few feet away from his now almost dead son. As the father’s train pulls out, another train arrives, from which a young teenage newcomer exits, looking about the place with wondrous eyes, as he moves to the main waiting room where surely he will face....we now sadly know the story.

      Grodecki’s work, far more tragically moving and brilliantly shot than his documentaries is a painful work to watch. Yet there is something stunningly beautiful about it as well, a kind of gruesome beauty that you might not have imagined him capable of in the other two darkly-lit series of interviews and scenes of the boys in action. In Mandragora he achieves an intensity that brings his message of the hopeless condition of these ill-fated boys into focus in a way that their own words could not.

     Yet we recall one boy in Body without Soul declaring he had not seen his close friend David for about a year. And it is clear, despite my ending quotation on that film by a commentator who despaired at hearing nothing about any of these young prostitutes’ survival, that the two stars of this work indeed, at least temporarily at, become actors in portraying their own stories.

     One person leaving a reply to the poster of this film on YouTube insists that David is now working at the Barrandov Film School in the Czech Republic, and that family members are still looking for him. She claims that he is married and has a child named Brett, now 18 or 19 years of age. But obviously this is no better that rumor or gossip. And the events he suffered have surely had an immeasurable impact upon his life even if today if he still survives, 26 years after his first appearance in Grodecki’s films.

 

Los Angeles, November 6, 2021

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (November 2021).


Johannes Pico | Projekt baby (Project Baby) / 2018

the difficulties of becoming a good gay dad

by Douglas Messerli

 

Johannes Pico (screenwriter and director) Projekt baby (Project Baby) / 2018 [24 minutes]

 

Christian (Marcus Christensen) and Sebastian (Rasmus Hougaard), a gay couple, are seeking to father a child in whose life they might later be invited to participate as he or she grows up. But most of the lesbian couples with whom they’ve met seem far more interested in semen than in fathering or mothering their offspring.


    Now far from the city in which they live, Copenhagen, they have traveled via hired car to a rural retreat to visit Kathrine (Ditte Maria le-Fevre), Julie (Maria Aarup-Sørensen), and their young daughter Sofia (Elana Rønsbæk) where they plan to have dinner and discuss, after much on-line communication, the possibilities of one or the other being a sperm donor, and their possible involvement with the baby after its birth. They stare off, somewhat smugly in Sebastian’s case, in opposite directions.

   Their first impression of this small-town house is not necessarily positive given that upon the couple’s white door is the word “skrid,” which, in nicer quarters means something like “scram,” but in Danish director Johannes Pico’s film is translated as “piss off,” evidently a marker of rural boys’ feelings about having a lesbian couple in their neighborhood.


     Inside, however, things are quite cheerful, both Katrine and Julie being quite the perfect couple with an already perfect table setting. The only problem is that Christian doesn’t eat fish, which is clearly to be the central dish of the meal.

     Sebastian, the younger of the two of them, is warm and friendly, clearly the force behind their decision to seek out what is described in Scandinavia as a “rainbow child.”  The older Christian actually appears to be somewhat curmudgeonly and bit on the difficult side. Immediately, Katrine lays out the terms. For the first year, it will be just the mothers and then shift to a 90/10 percent relationship, obviously the lower percentage being the fathers’ (or father’s) involvement, two weeks with the mothers as opposed to one weekend with the dads. Besides, they are still are not sure if they might not simply use an anonymous sperm donor.


    Just as it is Sebastian behind the gay men’s determination to be involved in a child’s life, so it is Julie, the younger of the lesbian couple, who most wants one or two dads for her daughter or son.

    As they show them through the house and into the room they are planning to use as the baby’s bedroom, Katrine explains that she plans posters and drawings on one wall. On another are two paint swatches, one blue, the other green. Christian is clear to point out the she evidently as already determined the sex, obviously a believer of the old school that blue is for boys. Kathrine declares that “in my family we most have boys,” while Christian counters that in his family it is mostly girls. Katrine cuts him dead: “You might not be chosen to be the dad.”

     In fact, it quickly becomes clear that the two urban men stand at opposite ends of the women, who in their quite self-sufficient attitudes, far prefer the country. The women are delighted when Sebastian is described as a musician who has just received a quarter of a million Euro grant from a noted arts organization. When asked what he does for a living, Christian responds that he is a financial controller, not at all a suitable position in the liberal, left-leaning lesbian visions of Katrine and Julie. But actually he works for a large broadcasting organization, not as a nefarious money broker. “Sebastian,” as Christian modestly puts it, “is the star of our relationship.”



      By this time, the skeptical Katrine, utterly disenchanted with Christian, asks a strangely private question: “When did you come out?”

      Christian can even imagine what and why she asking such private information, she insisting that it is, after all, a valid question. He reports that he was 26, with her immediately responding, as if there were some pre-determined date to realize one’s sexuality, “That was late.”

    With that statement, we can already imagine her regulating her lover’s periods. Just as Christian is a kind of conservative introvert, Katrine is a judgmental controller, convinced of her own righteousness. These two individuals are now quite clearly at odds.

      When Julie asks if they attended the Pride Day festivities, Sebastien jumps it to proclaim that he heard they were wonderful, while Christian suggests that they had “other plans.”


       And when Christian goes on to explain that he’s not crazy about the Pride Day events, Katrine sniffs out his so-called conservative nature. Christian attempts to defend himself, an argument I am all too acquainted with, “It categorizes gays as men who only want sex and partying. It was one of the reasons I didn’t come out earlier.”

      Echoing the wonderful defense of Pride marches presented in Albert J. Bresson Jr’s remarkable 1985 movie, Buddies—arguably one of the most significant gay films of all time—Katrine goes on the attack: “I think the Pride is incredibly important. It’s important to show the world that we exist.” But Christian, again showing himself in our times to be an unenlightened gay man, argues that he doesn’t want to be defined by his sexuality. Her response is, quite frankly, justified but also unempathetic for so many men of the older generations who fought to free themselves from being defined by the narrow cultural notions of what it meant to be queer (John Cage, John Ashbery, Leonard Bernstein, and so very many others never fully publicly revealed their sexuality for precisely those reasons).

     Kathrine, quite avidly, dismisses his reasons: “People have to know that we exist, even if they don’t like it.”

     Christian’s response is that of the gay conservatives: “Do we have to force-feed it to them with G-strings, sex, and feather boas?”


     And Kathrine’s response is the knee-jerk liberal one to which I too subscribe: “Keep a low profile and let the rest of us fight. Then you can benefit from our hard work.”

     Later in a private conversation with Kathrine, Christian makes it even worse by presuming that all lesbians have cats.

     It is little wonder when, later in this now quite significant film, Julie and Kathrine reveal they would like Sebastian to be the egg donor, but what no part of Christian’s being involved with their daughter and son’s upbringing.

    They tell this, of course, to only Sebastian, who must pass the unfortunate news on to his lover: “They want to have a child with me. But only if you’re not involved.” Neither the characters nor us as viewers can even imagine what that might mean. And for a few moments, the distance and anger it puts between them suggests that perhaps their own relationship has been long on tenterhooks and, given their apparent differences, may not last.* Does Christian really want what Sebastian is so very committed to?


     But our prejudices, as this film makes clear, are not necessary representative of the whole picture of any individual. At the very moment when Christian asks what his lover is actually saying, the house is attacked with garbage and other missiles by local homophobic gangs. The noise itself is quite horrific, but the danger seems imminent. All the adult fall to the floor in positions of self-protection, but Christian quickly stands, running off to Sofia’s room to check on the young daughter of Katrine and Julie. As Katrine and Sebastian run out of the house to confront the attackers, Katrine immediately dialing up the police—who later admit, in their own somewhat homophobic questions of the relationships of the two men and women—that they can do nothing—Christian gently comforts Sofia, suggesting she cover her bruise with band-aid he first applies to her teddy-beat Oskar so that the young child might willingly accept it. Although both Julie and Kathrine finally observe just wondrous a father Christian might have been, they have already rejected his gifts, the truly tender love he might have to offer.

     Watching Sebastian attempt to clear up the mess thrown against the window, Christian soon after attempts again to explain how alien this world is from his own upbringing: “Sebastian, I come from the kind of home where a fag was something you smoked. And only women and homos had weak handshakes. I love you. And all the things that you want.”

      Attempting to put things back to order, Christian manages to swallow the servings of fish and is even offered more as an award for his appetite.


     The two gay men escape back into the world to which they are acquainted, escaping what might have been perceived as a bad dream, not so very different actually from what the equally

business-oriented hero of Martin Scorsese’s After Hours encountered in a voyage into the underworld of New York City’s Village life. This time, however, they look loving at one another, face to face; they have returned to their basic relationship of love. But actually, what this remarkable little film has revealed is the vast gulf, at times between the two centers of the LGBTQ world, gay men and lesbians, each of whom have their own prejudices and misperceptions of the other. In this case, it appears, the self-sufficient lesbians simply want sperm to help them bring new beings into the world, while the needy would-be daddy gay boys simply want to be understood and loved.

 

*I have purposely, I admit, withheld a couple of other truly sexist and problematic issues. For one, although Sebastian early on proclaims they have been together as a couple for 5 years, in fact, it appears, he has exaggerated in order to impress the lesbian couple. We don’t at all know the length or the sustainability of their relationship. Later in the film, as an aside, Christian explains in rather misogynistic locker-room terms why he doesn’t like fish. Seems he had his first heterosexual experience when he was asked to lick a woman’s “pussy,” and coming out of the event was served a dish of fish that tasted…well you get the absurd and ridiculous comparison without my having to explain it. His papillae were evidently influenced by thousands of school-boy jokes of their first experience with cunnilingus. I was frankly horrified by Pico’s unnecessary reference of this to explain his characters dislike of all marine delicacies, which I might mention are especially divine in Copenhagen cuisine.

 

Los Angeles, December 28, 2025

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (December 2025) 

 


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 ...