Tuesday, March 18, 2025

Eli Lieb | Boys Who Like Boys / 2021

show me

by Douglas Messerli

 

Paul David Hager (mixer), Emily Lazar at The Lodge Mastering (master), Eli Lieb (music and performance) Boys Who Like Boys / 2021 [3 minutes]

 

We no longer have directors of music videos evidently, but only mixers and masters. Nonetheless, Eli Lieb’s 2021 music video Boys Who Like Boys is most definitely a gay work. I have now created a kind of limit regarding my gay music videos. If the singer, like Lieb, is even known to be gay but sings a song without any aural or visual gay referents that might not be equally applied to a heterosexual relationship, it does not belong in my pages.


      Only in a song such as this, blatantly gay, talking about or visually displaying gay images—this video does both—will I include it. I’ve had enough already about imagining gay encounters through music, even though Lieb, openly gay, makes it quite clear he is generally singing about other men. Talk about it, fine, but show me, I now demand.

      And in his 2021 video Boys Who Like Boys he does precisely that, serving up a host of images of men in LGBTQ-colored tutus, ready men with Love posted on their T-shirts, and cute guys perfectly ready to go straight to bed in a song laced with a plea of total gay acceptance:

     Lieb regularly crosses over to the kinds of songs that any girl might imagine that she is the subject. But when this gay man finally expresses his true loves, despite the pop-lite songs, he comes into his own, and sings quite beautiful ballads of gay love. That is what makes him interesting, despite his own attempts, at moments, to whitewash his gay heritage. He’s a sweet and handsome midwestern boy, who needs to keep making it clear that he’s not waiting in his Iowa home (actually he now lives in Los Angeles) for some chick to come calling. This video makes it quite obvious that he is one of those boys “who like boys.”

 

“When I was younger no one could stop me from acting like a kid

Was who I was there was no pretending lord knows the things I did

Then I got older a little stronger and I'd hold hands with guys

And walk around the cold concrete with a wall of judgment eyes

So what's your problem with boys who like boys

Maybe we just want a little love

Boys who like boys

Know one holds you like a big man does

Go keep on hating I'll just keep dancing

With boys who like boys



Yeah I just want a little love

And now you've made it your little mission to rain on my parade

It wasn't like I woke up one morning and decided to be gay

Look in the mirror and ask the question what are you trying to hide

I hope that you can find it out but I'm gonna live my life

So what's your problem with boys who like boys

Maybe we just want a little love

Boys who like boys

Know one holds you like a big man does

Go keep on hating I'll just keep dancing

With boys who like boys”

 

Los Angeles, March 18, 2025

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (March 2025).

Nick Rowland | Slap / 2014

trying to explain transsexual behavior

by Douglas Messerli

 

Islay Bell-Webb and Nick Rowland (screenplay, based on a story by Rowland), Nick Rowland (director) Slap / 2014 [25 minutes]

 

Young teenage boxer Connor (Joe Cole) is in love with Lola (Skye Ourie). He’s good boxer, winning most of his amateur bouts, due to his father’s training. Lola invites him to her birthday party, which he reluctantly accepts.


     What he hasn’t told anyone is that he is also a transgender man who likes to put on make-up and dresses, and does just that for Lola’s party, arriving basically as a drag queen and outing his secret desires to a group of his peers.

     Even before his public presentation, however, he is faced with his gay friend Archie (Elliott Tittensor) running from a group of homophobes set on beating him, knocking on his door to be let into his house. Connor seems frozen, desiring to save his friend, but at the same time unable to yet reveal his secret. Archie pounds at the door, as Connor slinks down the staircase, horrified of full revelation.



  Yet finally, he can longer accept the fact that his friend is being beaten, and runs, in full dress and makeup to his defense, quickly scaring off the two offenders. Archie can hardly believe his eyes, once he can again open them after being somewhat beaten. Yet Connor invites his friend in to mend his wounds, still in full female attire.

    Archie cannot help but laugh, explaining that his friend doesn’t exactly look like a girl, Connor shouting back that he doesn’t want to look like “a fucking girl, do I?” How does one explain the transsexual to even a gay man. Most transsexuals are not homosexuals, and although gays love their covert performances, they realize that generally the drag queens or even those who simply dress up in female costumes are not necessarily interested in their same sex as bed partners.

    The tough boxer Connor, begs his friend to just “make him feel all right.” And Archie argues that it doesn’t matter. Yet Connor knows it does very much matter to the world in which he lives. Archie, however, asks one of the most tender questions possible, “How’d you do your eyeliner? It’s good.”

    Connor shows his gay friend his arsenal of make-up, relating that it’s on line; it gives you tips and stuff. And the two now truly bond sharing a world that no one in their world can communicate. It is as if together they are sharing a treasure world which Lola and Connor’s father would find impossible to accept.

     “How long have you been practicing for?” asks Archie.

     “Since I was a kid.”

     Suddenly, it as if the macho boy Connor has peeled away a secret ritual world he has been hiding within himself and enacting only in his bedroom.

     Lola shows up to his gym, having been told by Archie how he has saved his life, but of course Connor might well fear what else he might have said, although apparently he has just expressed the heroics of his friend.

     Yet Connor knows his secret cannot long be kept. Lola once more invites him to her party, saying “dress up, remember?”


     And so in this impossible narrow-minded world, Connor comes dressed to the party as a full woman, coat, dress, make-up, and full regalia of femineity.

      Lola is aghast, but the rest of his peers, seeing simply as a kind of outrageous costume finally clap into their midst, Lola even finally coming to terms with his appearance. But he knows they are applauding the ridiculousness of his dress, not the necessity. And in a sense, his mirror finally cracks as in the bathroom into which he has retreated his first encounters a drunken Lola, who tries to suggests his costume is “cute,” and then is sympathetically greeted by Archie, who simultaneously attempt to express his desire and love of his friend, which lands him a harsh slug, not a slap. At this point Lola reenters attempting to comprehend the commotion, only to have Archie explain that he hit him, and Connor expressing his horror that Archie tried to kiss him, Archie attempting to explain to Lola that this is not a mere “costume.” In a sense, Connor has suddenly been betrayed by both of those he most loves. Archie insists he’s gay, while Connor attempts to explain the inexplicable to a close-minded world: “It’s not like that.” When Lola discovers her own missing bracelet and a bottle of lost Chanel perfume in Connor’s make-up kit, it becomes clear to her that he’s more than a little “different,” but queer in a manner that she cannot explain to herself. It ends, obviously, with a series of slaps from Lola, and cutting off of his relationship with Archie. There now is no going back.


      The movie ends, unfortunately as it must, with Connor returning to the boxing ring and beating his opponent so brutally that even his father has to enter in to end the fight. Connor has sadly lost all perspective about what it means to be a male.

      British director Rowland explains his inspiration: “Growing up my idols were the likes of Eddie Izzard and David Bowie. I have always admired people who have the courage to express themselves in any way they want without it necessarily having anything to do with their sexuality. I’m interested in how people like to put others in boxes. If someone can’t be put neatly into a certain box, people don’t know how to label you and they freak out.”

      In this case, however, it is the performer himself that cannot accept his own problematic cross-over definitions of experience. The disjuncture will probably never be gapped.

 

Los Angeles, March 18, 2005

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (March 2025).

 

 

 

Stephen Winter | Chocolate Babies / 1996

fighting for love and dignity

by Douglas Messeerli

 

Stephen Winter (screenwriter and director) Chocolate Babies / 1996

 

Superficially, as the brief Wikipedia commentary purports, Stephen Winter’s 1996 film Chocolate Babies “follows a group of queer activists of color in New York City that implemented actions against conservative politicians in response to the AIDS epidemic in the 1990s within African American communities.”


     Perhaps that’s why this truly significant and moving work, although receiving a great deal of praise upon its original release, simply failed to gain traction and was left behind on the cinematic shelf, only recently, in 2021, to be taken up again by Criterion Classics and reperceived to be an essential work in the 1990s AIDS canon. The film was also featured this year in New York’s Newfest as one of their lost classics.

     What most critics of the past seemed and critics today still seem unable to do is to individualize the characters of this work, and to discuss them as part of the film’s complex narrative as opposed to a single-minded social statement, which the film is certainly not.

       As a commentator on Letterboxd (Liz) recently opined, quite touchingly, this film is “a dizzying visual mixtape that follows a gang of (mostly) HIV-positive queer people of color and their loud direct action war against the conservative politicians who continue to do nothing to stop the spread of the disease decimating their communities, straight and gay. That’s an irresistible hook, but what really surprised me is how Winter uses this premise as a jumping off point for examinations of addiction, alcoholism, abortion, identity, religion, the closet, and the realities of queer inner city life in the 90s. The result is something that feels wholly unique—loud, angry, transgressive, messy, queer. And get this—it’s really funny, too.”


      The group of activists themselves represent an odd and messy mix of individuals. Sam (Jon Kit Lee), dying of AIDS and accordingly somewhat cynical and bitter, and the flamboyant often argumentative overweight gay man Larva (Dudley Findlay Jr.) are the core of the group, along with the strong female follower Jamela (Suzane Gregg Ferguson) and transvestites/transgender figures Lauretta (Michael Hyatt) and Lady Marmalade (Michael Lynch), the latter a drug addict who, if she is sometimes too incapacitated to fully participate in their activities, has nonetheless been given some of the film’s most poignant and politically charged lines: “Some folks got AIDS, and some folks got Magic Johson Disease. Folks with Magic Johnson disease are innocent victims. Well, I ain’t got Magic Johnson Disease.” Each of these figures is given a rich screen presence, and their interactions, personal fights with one another, and deep love for the others makes up a far more important portion of the film than does their actual attacks on bigoted and ignorant politicians who have not bothered to pay attention to the AIDS crisis of their communities.


      Crucial to this mix is the sort of moral compass to the off-kilter group, Max (Claude E. Sloan), an Asian-American with whom Sam is desperately in love and for who Max serves as a sort of lover/savior.

      The younger Max, however, is also naïve. Working for the local Councilman Melvin Freeman (Bryan Webster), he keeps suggesting that group become more cogently political, engaging in the robbery of files he believes Freeman keeps on all the AIDS patients in his district. But over the time Freeman, a highly closeted black gay man, himself becomes infatuated with Max and sexually approaches him, offering the young Asian a position even if he is elected, as he hopes to be, to Congress.

       It is difficult to determine whether or not Max is himself taken in by Freeman’s sexual invitations or simply sees it as an opportunity to further worm his and his friends into the records which might help to scandalize all those who have not acted to help their constituencies suffering from AIDS. At one point he seems to buy into Freeman’s excuse for not bringing an AIDS clinic to his district, the Councilman arguing that it would only further represent the difficult conditions of living there.

       On the other hand, Max suggests that if they were to kidnap Freeman they might easily be able to unveil the hidden records. But our small “radical” gathering of misfits, to date having only tossed blood (not their own) upon their political victims or threatened them verbally for their political views, have no intention of getting themselves arrested. In a sense, their own loose-ended connections and their obviously weakened health have saved them from being revealed, even though the attacked politicians grossly exaggerate the group’s numbers and power, promising to bring down the “evil gang.”


      None of these misfits bother to listen to Max’s recommendations about serious political endeavors. Suddenly Max himself, after a date or two with Freeman, kidnaps the Councilman, who seems almost willingly to go along with the group, even as they travel en masse to visit Sam’s sister and other family members with whom, because of his sexuality and disease, have long ago cut their ties with him. For a moment, it appears that Freeman, like Sam, is so in love with Max that he’s willing to almost “join the gang.”

      Max himself comes out to his highly distraught Asian mother, whose only solution seems to agree to his being sent away for a while to personally come to terms with his sexuality and racial roots.

       Meanwhile, as these folks’ illnesses get worse, their addictions make life almost impossible, and death begins to descend upon several of them, sans Max they become only a band a ragtag squabblers who can’t even save themselves let alone provide political actions that might ignite their community into action.

       Max returns to a dying Sam, holding his hand and kissing him as the two admit to their true dedication and love, far too late to be able to repair the vast gulf of death now between them.


 


      By the end of this emotionally moving movie, we recognize that Chocolate Babies is not really about political action, despite the tiny brave actions that this “gang” has achieved, but about the last stand of a gaggle of individuals who respect and love each other both for what they share and for what makes them each so very different.

       As director Stephen Winter himself describes his characters and their actions: “They’re brave, individualistic, fabulous and tight. They are fighting for their basic dignity.”

       Along with the most powerful of AIDS films, Arthur J. Bressan Jr.’s Buddies (1985), Bill Sherwood’s Parting Glances (1986), Jerry Tartaglia’s A.I.D.S.C.R.E.A.M (1988), Norman René’s Longtime Companion (1989), Roger Spottiswoode’s And the Band Played On (1993), and Derek Jarman’s Blue (1993), Chocolate Babies leaves one in tears and anger for all those who died of AIDS, both fictional characters and the real human beings who they represent.

 

Los Angeles, November 5, 2023

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (November 2025).

 

Nancy Meckler | Indian Summer (aka Alive and Kicking) / 1996

the prince of the apocalypse

by Douglas Messerli

 

Martin Sherman (screenplay), Nancy Meckler (director) Indian Summer (aka Alive and Kicking) / 1996

 

At first Nancy Meckler’s Indian Summer, known in the US as Alive and Kicking (because of the Mike Binder Indian Summer from 1993), seems like another early-to-mid 90s AIDS film that compares nicely with Philadelphia and The Band Played On, both from 1993 as what I describe as the “second wave” of AIDS movies. The major figure of this film, Tonio (Jason Flemyng), a lead dancer of a modern dance company, is HIV-positive and has lost his lover and numerous friends to AIDS and now is about to lose his closet friend Ramon (Anthony Higgins)— who most believe is also his lover but as he describes it has gone beyond that to a deep brotherly love.


     At one point he and his female buddy Millie (Diane Parish) gossip about all of the company members in a manner that you might imagine and are, in fact, encouraged to believe are all having affairs and relationships with one another, homosexual and heterosexual. Millie is herself lesbian and has apparently just broken up with her lover.

     In the first episodes of this film, accordingly, we are presented scenes about dance, including a meeting with the dance company’s founder and major choreographer, Luna (Dorothy Tutin) who is now suffering from severe Alzheimer’s and is herself unable to lead the company into the future that Ramon might been able to. In these scenes we get to know the company members quite intimately, even following them into the showers.

     When the performances at night are over, Tonio, Millie, and the company manager Tristan (Bill Nighy) rush to the hospital to cheer up the Karposi-suffering Ramon. As they have to admit, what with Ramon’s illness and Luna’s condition the future of their world does not look positive. The only positive sign is attached to the terrible HIV that has begun to show up in Tonio’s legs and his stormy pessimistic view of his life ahead. Sex for him seems to now be an impossibility, and even the new drugs which have become available that are helping to extend lives, he chooses to refuse because of the effects they may have on his bodily coordination.


     Almost as soon as we come to know this group of dancers, they receive a call from the hospital reporting that Ramon is dying, and rushing en masse to his side they perform the rituals they have gone through for so many of their friends, talking them into death, and simply being there to help one another bear the pain of losing yet another friend with whom they have daily worked and deeply loved. A nurse scolds them for trying to communicate with a man who can no longer hear them, they responding that at this point they are highly experienced pros when it comes to death and know the territory surely as well as she does, quieting her up.

     Yet all of them have committed their entire lives to Luna’s group, living dance morning, afternoon, and evening; and even later, as their only method of release from the various pains of body and soul, they go “dancing” in the gay bars.

      So likeable and truly beautiful are all these dancers and their dying friend that we can hardly imagine how the film will suddenly take a turn into a more mundane relationship involving far less beautiful bodies and irrepressible energy beginning with their night at the club.

     The beautiful Tonio is obviously a club favorite with several men attempting to make a date with him, all of whom he off-handedly refuses. Indeed one might interpret his behavior as  representing his self-centeredness were it not clear that Tonio is so obviously conceited that such an analysis would be meaningless. He is beautiful and he knows it; but since he is also dying probably sooner than all the others, he commands a central sense of affection and admiration, which strangely some of those who are still healthy resent. His attitude is obviously one of seizing the day.

    After turning down and away from several handsome boys Tonio comes face to face with Jack (Antony Sher), a short and stocky, bald and bearded man who seems to have known Tonio’s beloved Ramon, the fact of which immediately arouses his interest and suspicions—at the funeral a couple have obviously crashed the event claiming to have been in Paris with Ramon, frauds since Ramon had never been to Paris. And he has also quite literally run into Jack at the funeral, no one recognizing who he might be, with Tonio commenting “He’s certainly not a dancer,” and Millie wondering whether he might not be a trick. Tonio comments, “Not his type.”


   In a sense he is intrigued also by the clever responses he receives by someone who seems not as enchanted with him as are all the others, yet still has a connection to his world. At one point. In fact, one might describe Tonio, as Jack almost does, as almost being the self-centered Prince of the Apocalypse. What he actually says, when the two find themselves alone together in a side room, is, “On closer look you do not strike me as that sexy.” When Tonio later leaps on his lap and gives him a kiss, asking “how was that?” Jack responds “You’re too conceited.”

     The two again oddly end up alone, apart from all the others, when finally Tonio demands to know how he knew Ramon, Jack admitting that he is a therapist and Ramon had come to see him for counseling. Tonio can hardly believe the “joker” works by day as a therapist.

      Yet they wind up together at a nearby coffee shop to sober up, Tonio from his spent energy and Jack from the gin he has slugged down throughout the evening. Jack finally explains that he is an AIDS therapist and daily deals intimately with people who have AIDS, revealing why he is hardly taken aback when Tonio tells him, as if to get rid of him, that he is HIV-positive, Jack arguing that every sexual partner should be thought as being just that. But the possibility of a hook-up appears to go no further, with Tonio suddenly admitting that he has been flirting, but he’s now tired of it, as he walks away.

      Meanwhile, back at the dance studio Tristan has decided, after the summer break, to stage an older but renowned piece, “Indian Summer,” which Luna choreographed from Ramon years before, Tristan desiring for the company to go out of business in style. He plans to feature Tonio and another dancer Vincent (Aiden Waters) in the major roles of two male lovers (Luna, having lost memory of the dance itself, describes the work: “It’s about queers, and queers have made my dance company great. Queers have the gift of laughter, as one of the dancers attempts to control his guffaws). Arguing against Tonio’s outright rejection of the idea, Tristan explains that they will recruit an older dancer Duncan, who performed the other role in the original production, to explain the details of the movements.

   We soon begin to perceive, moreover, that the real joys of this film are in precisely such details along with the kind particulars of their behavior I have begun to mention above. For Meckler’s film has suddenly morphed from a story about AIDS to a work centered on a love relationship that outwardly makes no sense, as Jack shows up after the last of Tonio’s performances for the current season, and almost inexplicably the two find solace in one another, having sex, sharing a bed, and finally an apartment as a couple, even while that designation itself becomes a bone of contention between them.



      I will spare the reader the specific details which make this movie so very rich in the viewing of the work, but  in summary, I’ll reveal that Jack finally convinces Tonio to vacation in Greece with him, and the two begin to realize, in the glorious white light of a Greek summer sun and surrounded by cultural monuments to a great world that no longer exists, that aside from their clever jests and significant verbal parries, they are both terribly selfish men, Tonio having chosen Jack, a man who he can safely describe as not “his type” because he does not represent the world of beautiful bodies which have constantly betrayed him through their deaths, and can depend on the down-to-earth hard-working AIDS therapist to be there as his illness begins to progress.

      Jack, on the other hand, has been awarded a beautiful and sexy lover he might never have imagined as well as a real person with whom he can apply his true expertise as opposed to the empty world of evaporating finances and paperwork which is what the AIDS-related job has become.


    Tonio cannot at all comprehend the deep thirst for alcohol that doctors, nurses, and therapists have acquired in their frustrating encounters with the death of their AIDS patients on a daily basis, realizing that things could be different if only authorities might take the disease more seriously and provide financial support. It was at this moment when doctors and therapists began to perceive that there were finally restorative if not curative medicines on the horizon but that governments had put the “gay” disease at a low priority, dooming people just like Tonio and Ramon to death.

      Jack cannot, on the other hand, comprehend why Tonio is not as angry as he is, that he has focused any political anger instead on his attempts to mold and shape his body into movements that represent the great stories of love and death.

      Their clash by night, so to speak, is the age-old struggle between politics and art, an irresolvable battle played out in despair by both sides.

       The most moving moments of this film are when they finally sit down in an attempt to thrash out their differences, the nearly always clever protector Jack finally breaking down into convulsive sobs of a despair which now only the artist can help to qualm.

       When on the very day before the premiere of “Indian Summer” Jack wakes up unable to move his body, suffering from a brain nerve condition that is curable and not directly related to AIDS, but which nonetheless will prevent him from dancing, we almost want to shout that an injustice has been served, surely the script might have suggested another route to our comprehension of the frailty of arts to heal.  Strangely, it is the lost Luna, facing the strange lunar eclipse of forgetfulness, who offers an odd solution: “Why does he have to move his legs?"


      And suddenly this film becomes also a powerful tale of physical impairment, as Tristan selects other members of the company to carry Tonio about space as he, having somewhat recovered the movement of his limbs, makes the important physical gestures of the love and longing which the dance portrays. The dance of the two male lovers, in fact, becomes far more homoerotic and sensuous as we observe Tonio being borne aloft by two other male dancers and he encounters and makes love with his male partner.

       The film ends with a now limping hero, newly released from the hospital, insisting that he and Jack walk home instead of taking the taxi, as he finally speaks of a future in which he will have to teach dance rather than perform it. And Jack, in turn, promises him that he will be there, no matter what happens. At least, although the movie doesn’t say as much, Tonio can begin on a regiment of drugs which will give him a longer life, and, as the Julian Hernández movie I watched the other day argues now provides individuals with a life every bit as long as those who are not HIV-positive. As they walk evidently past the point when they should have made a turn toward their apartment, Jack asks where they are going, Tonio replying that he has no idea, but hopes Jack will join him.

     Of course, it’s a sentimental metaphor, but also an important one for a generation finally beginning to perceive that some relief for AIDS was in the near future if only…. After decades of darkness for that generation, it seems almost criminal, but may still be useful for a younger generation to suggest that such a moment as something like coming out of quarantine after two years of COVID-19. The fears and terrors are still present but renewal seems possible through our commitment and love of our fellow beings.

 

Los Angeles, August 24, 2022

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (August 2022).

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 ...