Saturday, March 22, 2025

Ford Fairchild | Blueneck / 2024 [music video]

who we are

by Douglas Messerli

 

Chris Housman (composer and singer), Ford Fairchild (director) Blueneck / 2024 [3 minutes]

 

In country singer’s Chris Housman’s title song for his album Blueneck, he truly explores the possibility of someone growing up in a conservative Red state valuing and caring for all sorts of controversial issues, in including black and gay rights. In this brave song, Housman not only expresses his commitment to his own gay values, but values that are not all approved in the country western states to which his singing style and songs reference. He is, in fact, challenging the very redneck notion of the genre in which her performs, a quite brave act, and even it his song is not quite profound, I award him the for his singing talent and the lyrics of this song:


Grew up with corn fields in every direction

That’s where I learned all of my lessons

‘bout life and livin’ without fences

In the land of the free to have opinions

If you work a job, you oughta make a livin’

George Straight or George gay, there’s no difference

People need help and I think that we should listen

3 chords and my truth is...

 

I’m good old boy with a bleeding heart

Just a homegrown hick with a hybrid car

I think y’all means all

And I know we all just wanna know that we belong

There’s a lot more color in the mix

When you’re loud and proud out in the sticks

I am what I am, you get what you get

Yeah I guess I’m a red state blue neck

 

My American dream is wide open spaces

Plenty of room for us all to be safe in

Yeah that’s the future that I’m chasing

So I’m gonna go make it

 

….

 

Can’t a country kid wanna see the glass ceiling shatter?

Wanna see a world where Black lives matter?

Liberty and justice for just some of us

Ain’t how the heartland brought me up

 

    How can anyone of conscience argue with that? Well, of course our current leaders do just that. But Housman continually reminds us, hopefully, of whom we really are. And that is why he remains an important performer.

 

Los Angeles, March 22, 2025

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (March 2025).

 

 

 

Robert Ian Simpson and Sara Wolkowitz | Lightning Bugs in a Jar / 2015

family life

by Douglas Messerli

 

Robert Ian Simpson (screenplay), Robert Ian Simpson and Sara Wolkowitz (directors) Lightning Bugs in a Jar / 2015 [19 minutes]

 

It’s truly rare these days when a short US film featuring gay figures is not about the problems and difficulties of their relationship, but employs the strength and love of their relationship as a support for other family problems.

     Robert Ian Simpson and Sara Wolkowitz’s film begins in the house where Max (Devin McDuffee) grew up. His mother, Farrah (a wonderful Betsy Aidem) is selling the place in the beautiful Catskills after years of no one living there, and her son Max and his lover Ben (Ethan Slater) have come over from their university to help pack up. Indeed, by the time the slightly ditzy and seemingly independent-minded mother arrives, the boys have finished the packing, she complaining only that she thought it perhaps would look more “tidy.”


     Yet, she is hardly a “tidy” individual, in the very first scene in which we see here demanding the driver stop so that she can pee by the side of the road. In fact, she is the kind of woman with whom Max’s lover Ben gets on very well, seeming to be a sort of buffer between her and Max, who clearly can’t bear to be around his mother with a history that we discover later on he has never revealed to Ben.

     Most of the early part of the film, in fact, appears to be almost a mystery story as we attempt to discover why Farrah, clearly a larger than life figure and certainly an untypical mother figure drives Max crazy, leading him to demand sex with him the moment her car is heard in the driveway—ending obviously in her discovery of the two boys in the middle of an orgasm—or why, quite inexplicably, he leans far out of the car to smoke a cigarette as they drive to a grocery, Ben explaining to Farrah that he doesn’t usually behave in this manner. Her answer: that she realizes that he saves up all his craziness to react to her the very few times they encounter one another, the two behaving like “lightnings bugs in a jar.”


      There is certainly some truth to her metaphor, as we observe Max buying up 12-packs of beer as if they were intending to stay on for weeks, although Ben reminds his boyfriend that they’re leaving the very next day.

      Farrah meanwhile buys a birthday cake which she asks, in a truly unthinking and spontaneous moment, to top with the name, Tanner, who we soon learn was Max’s adored younger brother, suffering from autism. Knowing that it will send Max into a frenzy, she quickly smashes out the red moniker, making it look like an absurd childish finger painting, which when Max comments on its dreadful appearance, she declares reminds her of one of his butterfly finger paintings when he was in second grade, this one, in particular, she recalls “I can close my eyes and see everything about it, the white spots, the pink wings, how it looked in flight…like it was already leaving us. You captured something right before it was gone.”

      If there was ever a moment for Ben, who has been there with her during the whole time since she rubbed out the name Tanner, to realize the marvelous and daffy creativity of Max’s mother, it is this moment, and the humorous incident draws us closer to her character is well. She lies so deftly about what, at that moment, seems so meaningless, that we are almost left in wonder at the ramblings of her mind.


     But soon after, several drinks and slices of cake later, when she suddenly demands the two boys drive with her, we begin to perceive the truth behind her and her son’s enmity. As they travel along a road when Ben driving and Farrah signaling the directions, Max suddenly becomes aware of where she is taking them and becomes furious, demanding to get out of the car, racing off into the woods.

     The two sit alone in the car together, Ben startled by the event asking her, why his Max still so angry about his brother Tanner’s death. She suggests that he imagines it still as his responsibility, his failure to protect him. But Ben continues in his speculations, why should he feel that way about a boy who died of meningitis.

     Is that what he told you? Farrah, more than little taken aback, replies. No Tanner did not die of meningitis, but following his elder brother’s kite, entered onto the highway where was hit, first by one car and, then immediately afterwards, by another, all in front of the young Max’s eyes. She comments that she doesn’t know if he was already dead before the second hit him.

     Just as this is slowly sinking in to Ben’s and our own imaginations, she adds, and I am so appreciative that he is still protecting me after all these years with his story about meningitis, because he hasn’t explained where I was, drunk and passed out at 2:00 in the afternoon. Her brave admission sadly explains everything and forgives what has earlier appeared as a childishly resentful behavior of her gay son.

     Ben and she drive on to the cemetery to where she has been heading, paying brief homage to the autistic child killed in a meaningless traffic accident. As they drive back home past the place where Max has left the car, she wonders whether they shouldn’t look for Max, but Ben assures her that he’ll call when he wants to. Perhaps it will do him good to be alone for a while.

      Farrah turns to him, almost for the first time admitting his existence, replying that sadly she doesn’t even know his last name, but is so happy that Max has him as someone to love and rely upon.


      As twilight falls, Max calls and is picked up by Ben, the two returning for lovely sex, the curative of sorts for a soul who lost a part of himself in a moment of mutual neglect. The next day, before their return to their college campus, Max visits the grave, Ben obviously waiting in the car, Max’s life support, his gay lover.

      I repeat the sentiment with which I began this essay: it is rare when being gay is not the problem of a film, but rather the answer to the trauma facing all of us, in different ways, of family life. And this beautiful filmed work by Robert Ian Simpson and Sara Wolkowitz is a near masterpiece in that respect, a work justifiably chosen for inclusion in the short film corner of the Cannes Film Festival.

 

Los Angeles, July 19, 2023

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (July 2023).

Alejandro Ibarra | Safe and Sound / 2015

having everything to do with all of us

by Douglas Messerli

 

Alejandro Ibarra (screenwriter and director) Safe and Sound / 2015 [19 minutes]

 

Alejandro Ibarra’s 2015 short film, Safe and Sound, begins with a kind of rehearsal being performed by a handsome young gay man, Sam (Eddie Gutierrez), in preparation apparently for comments he is soon to make to his mother Maggie (Candi Milo), sister Paula (Michelle Prendes), and her husband, Diego (Cesar Sebastian):



“Mom everybody, thank you so much for coming. I invited you here to tonight because no, no, no

     no.”

“Hey guys guess what oh no, I can’t do it like that.”

“You know what, life is just a journey filled with obstacles and stupid speeches. God damn it...”

“Mommy, my heart, my life.”

 

     Nothing seems to be working. We suspect that the young man is perhaps gay and that what he’s about to confess to his family is that fact, all substantiated by the return home of his companion, Daniel (Michael Gmur), who kisses him, explains his lateness (he’s a teacher), and commiserates with Sam’s nervousness about the upcoming event. “Look it doesn’t matter when you tell them or how you tell them. It’s not going to be any less shocking or anything.”

     Sam, who’s been cooking the dinner is also distressed that he has burned the chicken and put another bird into the oven, meaning that dinner will be late.

     We also sense another underlying issue with this couple when Daniel suggests that it’s best to serve the meal first, “your people” respond better when they have something in their stomachs. Sam responds that the statement is extremely racist, but agrees with the sentiment nonetheless.

    Apparently, we now realize not only this gay couple now needs to convey whatever they are intending, but that the difference in their cultural backgrounds makes it even more difficult.

    In short, Ibarra somewhat manipulates us into believing that this short film is going to be the standard “coming out to the family” work, with possibly further kerfuffles due to their cultural differences.

     Enter, earlier than expected, the trio, pregnant sister, somewhat dense brother-in-law, and the mother, who is obviously reticent about the entire situation, while adoring and protective of her son. Sam explains that dinner will be late since “The oven went a little crazy,” a description of the kitchen appliance which more clearly describes his own state of mind.

     Dan is missing from this early scene, so we might wonder if he is purposely hiding out until the news is conveyed, although the family seems to be cognizant that Sam is sharing the stylish apartment with, if nothing else, a roommate.

     The family begins with the usual small talk, but even here there seems already to be rising tensions. Maggie pushes forward with the details of family events: “So let me ask you something you’re gonna ride with us to Lorena’s quinceanera or you gonna take your own car? Also, I couldn’t get a plus one just so you know.”

      Sam’s response, “Couldn’t or didn’t want to?” hints at his mother’s resistance to the inclusion of Daniel in the family events. And at this point we begin to wonder if perhaps the family does perhaps know more about their son and brother’s sexual life than we at first suspected.


     The conversation quickly flips back to the occasion. Why have they been invited? Just as suddenly as there has been a change in focus, the mother puts it all out on the table: is her son breaking up with “what’s his name?”

      Both the derision in which she holds Daniel and the fact that we suddenly recognize that she is quite aware that they have been in a relationship, now puts Ibarra’s audience in the same position as Sam’s family members. Although we now perceive Maggie’s hostility to her son’s gay partner, we now have little clue of what kind of confession to which we are about to play the role of voyeurs. Sam’s uncomfortableness suddenly creates a kind of nervous expectancy within our minds as well.

    As if on cue, Daniel enters the room wondering, quite obviously, who’s breaking up. He briefly kisses is “mother-in-law,” addressing her as Maggie, she coldly replying “It’s Mrs. Gonzalez.”

     Still seeking for answers for their being called together, his sister Paula blurts out, quite in opposition to her mother, “Oh my God, you guys are getting married,” an announcement of which her husband also approves, but further upsets Maggie.

      A bit tired of playing a game like “20 questions,” Sam suddenly blurts out: “I have cancer.”

The pause puts us all on edge, particularly those of us who have lived through the worst of the AIDS decades.

      “Cancer cancer?” asks the rather slow-minded Diego.

      Sam, completely flummoxed by his brother-in-law’s ridiculous question is forced to explain that his disease is skin cancer.

       The family is briefly relieved. After all, that is often an easily curable form of cancer, sometimes with just minor removal of the cancerous skin patches, But their relief is short-lived as Daniel explains: “Sam is sick.”

        Sam, however, returns to the positive in his assurance that he has a “great” doctor who’s positive about the prognosis. “So I just have to start treatment.”

        I’m being specific here just to make clear that the radical alteration that is about to occur is given context. For at the very next moment, like a cobra which has been waiting to strike, Mrs. Gonzalez, pointing at Daniel, hisses out the words: “This is because of you.”

       Perhaps in our illusionary “post-AIDS” day these words seem utterly illogical, which is how Daniel, Sam, and the others all treat it. Yet for those of us who lived through that period, we comprehend that the kinds of cancers caused by the full name of the disease, “acquired immunodeficiency syndrome” focuses first on the acquisition of the ailment from another human being with whom the victim has had sex.  Maggie clearly recalls the time when patients and their doctors were forced to link their sexual partners with their own suffering.

      For her, as she puts it to Daniel, “Ever since he met you his own life has fallen apart.  Everything that is wrong with him is here right now.”

      From the young teacher’s point of view, her accusations are utterly without foundation. Is she trying to blame him for Sam’s cancer, he lashes back, before reminding her of the many instances, evidently, of her recriminations since the two young men first met. As he argues, she is afraid of losing the power she has over her son. But she also has not yet completely assimilated herself to her son’s homosexuality and his needs for a love other than hers. And in that respect, the film is strangely connected to what we first thought Sam was intending to confess.

      Finally, Sam, unable to bear this new squabble between those who love him demands for it all to stop. What is the very worst thing for a cancer patient he demands someone tell him? Quieting down Daniel states the obvious: “stress.”

      During the melee, the chicken dinner has again burned up in the oven. Diego and Paula joyfully call out for pizza and the family sits down at the kitchen table to share the carry-in dinner, the soon-to-be mother Paula chowing down on several slices of a Hawaiian version of the Italian favorite.

       After a few moments of communal dining, Daniel’s seemingly racial epithet seems to be a true assessment, as Maggie, turning to her son, conciliatingly inverts the focus of her former charges against Sam’s lover: “This has everything to do with us. This has everything to do with all of us.” Focusing on Sam, she emotionally stammers: “I cannot lose you. I cannot lose you.”

     “And Daniel,” she continues, “I just want—”


  

     Daniel interrupts her: “I know. Me too.”

     Sometime after, the two are sitting on their bed, with Danny observing “As weird as that was I would say it went surprisingly well.”

     Sam pulls a large tuft of his hair out. This will only be the beginning, he indicates. We’ll shave your head, I bet you’d be stunningly beautiful as bald man, suggest Daniel in an attempt to calm his lover.

      But their fears are hard to contain. And Sam wonders about whether he might still be loveable in his altered state. Daniel, who has been hiding a gift for him, retrieves it: a ring, with Sam gradually realizing that he is being asked to marry Danny.

      This is a comedy, after all, not an AIDS-era drama. Sam joyfully says yes before realizing: “Oh you know what? I guess we’re going to have to invite my family over again to tell them what happened.” “I take my proposal back,” Daniel laughs.

 

Los Angeles, November 18, 2020

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog and World Cinema Review (November 2020).

 

Damon Carasis and Nathan Larson | Saturday Church / 2017

get me to the church on time

by Douglas Messerli

 

Nathan Larson (music and lyrics), Damon Carasis, (screenwriter and director) Saturday Church / 2017

 

I know it is no longer popular to use the word “transsexual.” But I do feel it is still a useful word to distinguish between the transgender changes some people seek, which involves a much fuller alteration of gender. In most cases the drag queens and others who dress up as women are basically cis-gender, but like to explore and work within the context of other sexual possibilities. In the case of the young beautiful 14-year-old boy in Damon Carasis’ quite lovely film from 2017, Saturday Church, the young black man, Ulysses (Luka Kain) is simply interested in exploring the world of women’s clothing and the community of voguing than in undergoing a sex change. In fact, he quickly falls into a rather gay relationship with a young man named Raymond (Marquis Rodriguez).



      I suspect that most young gay men and lesbians go through a period in which they wonder about their own gender identity. In this case Ulysses’ father, a soldier, has just died, and his truly loving mother, Amara (Margot Bingham) has to undertake another night shift at her job in order to make enough money to support Ulysses and his younger brother Abe (Jaylin Fletcher).

      To look after her sons when she is not at home, she brings in her Aunt Rose (Regina Taylor), a woman who sees herself as kind and helping, but is, in fact, a kind of religious bigot. And she has no room at all in her life for a young man questioning his gender or even bothering to explore who he is. She quickly challenges him to become even more involved in her church by signing him up as an acolyte to the priest.


    Yet, like the mythical Homer character, this young Ulysses must find his way out of family life to undertake his own voyage. After one of her strict corrective lectures, the young central figure of this work escapes from his Bronx cage to the streets of downtown Manhattan where he accidentally encounters a group of young drag queens with whom Raymond somewhat explicably tags along who regularly attend what they describe as Saturday Church. Critic Sheila O’Malley, writing in Film Comment, nicely summarizes his other world encounter:

 

“Fleeing the stress at home, Ulysses takes the train down to Greenwich Village, where he wanders around aimlessly, staring at the people who come out of gay bars, trailing along after them. During one of these field trips, he ends up on Chelsea Piers, where he meets a group of gay and transgender people—Ebony (Mj Rodriguez), Dijon (Indya Moore), Heaven (Alexia Garcia), and Raymond (Marquis Rodriguez)—who take him under their collective wing, and drag him to “Saturday Church,” run by a trans activist named Joan (Kate Bornstein) who feeds and clothes the kids, helps with medical care, and provides them with a safe space, if only just once a week. Ulysses looks around him, agog, at the kids dancing, laughing, talking, and just being. The people Ulysses meets are older than he is (but not by much), and they razz him, but also support him. He is drawn to the gently flirtatious Raymond and the feeling appears to be mutual. Here, in this tribe, Ulysses can be himself. How could he ever explain any of this to formidable Aunt Rose? Or his mother, who has also made it clear she doesn’t want him wearing her shoes?”



      At one point, unable to find a place to spend the night, Ulysses prostitutes himself to a delighted older man, who fortunately wants only the sexual encounter with a young man and does not further abuse him.

      I think if this movie had just focused on Ulysses’ discovery of a new world, it might have been a quite superb realist film, demonstrating just how important it is for young boys to explore their own identities. But, alas, Carasis also wanted to create a musical, partnering with songwriter Nathan Larson to intrude into his film a number of unmemorable songs which interrupt rather than move forward his narrative. These musical numbers (and anyone who knows my writing will realize how much I love theater musicals) make little sense and truly offer no deep psychological insight into the characters who are quite nicely developed within the story itself. A theater version is planned for later this year, but have my doubts whether or not it will be able to heft itself unto a Broadway stage.


     In the film, upon realizing that her beloved Ulysses has gone missing, Amara fires her temporary solution to her own absence, Aunt Rose, while as expected, the voyager eventually returns home and falls into her open arms.

     What is revealed in this work is just how important volunteer church programs such as the one featured in this movie are to the survival of at-risk teens. And this film also makes quite clear why the kind of club membership and voguing featured in Paris is Burning, this film, and several others is popular. It allows young men and women to explore their own desires, to determine the limits of their identities, while also finding support (and sometimes a meal and a clean bed) with others who are not afraid of that youthful exploration. The Aunt Rose’s of the world should keep their church-going activities to Sundays, leaving Saturday or any other day of the week to those who are less self-righteous and closed-minded.

 

Los Angeles, March 22, 2025

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (March 2025).

Moshe Rosenthal | שבתון Shabaton (Leave of Absence) / 2016

a night with the boys by Douglas Messerli   Moshe Rosenthal (screenplay and director) שבתון Shabaton ( Leave of Absence) / 2016 [19 m...