Martin Brest | Beverly Hills Cop / 1984

learning how to lie

by Douglas Messerli

 

Daniel Petrie, Jr. (screenplay, based on a story by Danilo Bach and Daniel Petrie, Jr.), Martin Brest (director) Beverly Hills Cop / 1984

 

Martin Brest’s 1984 comedy is basically a vehicle for actor Eddie Murphy’s infectious laugh interrupted by his naughty policeman antics and skits in which he mimes various types. It’s a likeable enough film, particularly given the good-old-boy restraints of the Laurel and Hardy-like team of Beverly Hills cops, Detective Billy Rosewood (Judge Reinhold) and Sergeant John Taggart (John Anton). Yet the more I see this work, the more I realize its true emptiness with its often misogynistic and homophobic tropes, and its vaudeville-based comedy antics.

     In fact, there is hardly any meat to it. Viewers early perceive, almost from the beginning, what is about to happen. Axel Foley—bad boy, foul-mouthed cop is a man born to get into trouble. And in this case, after witnessing the death in his hometown of Detroit of one of his best friends, Mickey, he is ordered almost immediately to stay off the case, disciplined for a recent unauthorized sting of a theft of a truck filled with cigarettes. Realizing that the case leads back to Los Angeles, Foley demands a vacation to secretly search out the villains, having heard his friend mention he had worked for a gallerist in Beverly Hills.

    The shift allows the film full range to satirize the wealthy and the pansy art world that has been at the heart of film comedy since its beginnings, even hinting, in this case, at elements of just such an evil trio—the art collector Victor Maitland (Steven Berkoff) and his evil male companion Zack (Jonathan Banks), along with a female friendly-spy who works for Maitland, Jenny Summers (Lisa Eilbacher)—we have previously encountered in Alfred Hitchcock’s 1959 film North by Northwest.

    Once out-of-towner Foley stumbles into the chic enclose of Beverly Hills, he begins to rack up havoc almost everywhere he goes from a hip city art gallery to the hallowed halls of a private club (actually filled in Pasadena), with the Beverly Hills coppers bumbling along after. Before you can even say Rodeo Drive, Foley has topped them in their tracks using—as have so many vaudevillian acts—several servings up of food involving cakes in the face and bananas that slip up the chase.

    Jenny provides the misogynistic fodder while almost everyone else, including the sexually innocent Billy Rosewood and Maitland’s gallery assistant Serge (Bronson Pinchot) kick off the fag jokes.

    Pinchot’s imitation of an effete gallery assistant whose accent (filled with various layers of French, Israeli, and Russian mispronunciations of English mixed together to make him almost incomprehensible) almost gets away with it, beginning with his introductory question “and what is pertaining?,” scolding his handsome open-shirted underling (“cover dis up, you look like a dog to scrub”; “it’s not sexy, it’s animal”) and renaming Axel as Ahmed as he offers him something to drink, “a wine, a cock-tail, [emphasis on the tail], espresso,” “I make it back there myself with a little lemon twist, [almost winking] try it.” In fact, his mishmash of affected art jabber is one of the funniest moments of the film, since he at least Pinchot’s Serge represents a truly original stab at a gay stereotype.

     Everything else from there, however, is downhill beginning with an absolutely fruity black waiter at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, played by Damon Wayans, flailing with limp wrists and a lisp that I had presumed had gone out of style in the 1930s. 

     The writers follow this foul joke up by Murphy’s own pretense of being a highly effeminate lover of Maitland who slips into a private club for absolutely no purpose other than to confront his evil nemesis by telling the host that his 

doctor has just informed him that he is infected with “herpesimplex” 10 and therefore needs to warn the art dealer before things begin to fall off his body. The reverberations of the active AIDS crisis in this scene from 1984, when the media was finally becoming aware of the so-called “gay disease,” makes this one of the most homophobic jokes ever screened, so disgusting that almost any level-headed, sensitive LGBTQ viewer should have fled from the theater, although like me, probably didn’t, having become so resigned to cinema mockery of sexual difference. In fact, Foley even rewards his gallant Beverly Hills foes a free evening at an out-of-jurisdiction heterosexual strip club.

     Any fun the film might offer have offered is now reduced to Murphy pretending to be a customs’ inspector where, after forcing open a piece of freight addressed to Maitland, he discovers coffee grinds associated with the smuggling of cocaine.

     With Taggart and Rosewood on his trail, Foley finally breaks into Maitland’s armed compound where he encounters the whole force of Maitland’s protective gunmen, the three (Foley, Rosewood, and Taggart) shooting up havoc before the Beverly Hills police Lieutenant Andrew Bogomil (Ronny Cox)—a man who goes “strictly by the book”—arrives with a squadron of black-and-whites only to find that Foley and his fumbling friends have killed the gunman and Maitland, vindicating Foley’s suspicions. Nothing like a cops and robbers shoot out to end such a disgusting American concoction.

     Several times throughout the movie, the honest Taggart and Rosewood have admitted the truth when questions, with the fast-talking fibbing Foley scolding them for having “fucked up a perfectly good lie.” This time around, Bogomil himself fabricates a story to his superior, Chief Hubbard (Stephen Elliott) about the chaos spread out before them. The Beverly Hills police have finally learned how to lie. Surely it’s only a step from there to a constant creator of false realities such as President Trump to call in the Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) to get rid of any other undesirables who might have stumbled their way into that wealthy small city in the middle of Los Angeles.

     In the end, Axel Foley himself, is literally shepherded out of town. Yet we knew that even this clearly racist riddance of rubbish in 1984 would only mean a later meet-up, given how easily Foley has found access to the wealthy white world of criminals. There were two later sequels which only revealed the true tawdriness of the original, which it is almost impossible to believe was the highest grossing movie of the year in which it was released, and shamefully was selected in 2024 for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant.” Sorry to say, it probably does truly represent the US experience.

 

Los Angeles, December 17, 2012; revised January 14, 2026.

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (December 2012)

 

 

 

 

 

Kevin J. Nguyen | Blue Suit / 2020

best friend

by Douglas Messerli

 

Kevin J. Nguyen (screenwriter and director) Blue Suit / 2020 [15 minutes]

 

John (Ivan Mok) has a problem. Over the few months since he has gotten to know Henry (Andrew Gee) his relationship has turned from seeing the other man as a friend to his feelings of love for him.

     In so very many short gay films, the young heroes inexplicably decided to spill their feelings about the other the day before he’s traveling to another city to work, and this film is no exception. Andrew is on his way from Los Angeles to New York where he has a new job lined up—with his own nameplate.

     John is determined, nonetheless, to express his feelings for Henry over a specially planned dinner. He even puts on his special new blue suit for the occasion. But as often happens, John texts him that he’s running beyond in his packing and that he can’t join him at dinner. What other choice does John have but to help him pack over In-N-Out burgers, still aching to tell Henry about his feelings for him. He also notices, however, that Henry is pretty well finished packing; that, in some cases, he is moving things out of boxes to put them back again.

    Just when he is about to express those hidden emotions, however, the doorbell rings and a home group of friends appear at his doorway for a surprise going-away party. What’s such a well-dressed boy supposed to do. Pout a little perhaps, but still make the best of it.

    Meanwhile an openly gay boy, Mike (Jason Dennis Lee), introduces himself to John, complementing his suit, but also apologizing for crashing in on their “intimate gathering.” “So are you two, like dating?”

    John repeats the truth, that they’re just friends, but Mike sees through it all. “Two cute guys hanging out together the night before one of them moves away. That sounds like more than just friends.”

     John smiles, obviously wishing what Mike has said is true. But when he looks he sees that both Henry and the acquaintance he was talking to have disappeared. And now he’s on the chase to find out where Andrew has gone.

     But, no, Henry has not escaped from the event with another guy, but sits alone in his bedroom deeply pondering something, inviting John in to join him at his own party. Actually, Henry is in tears. He has nothing against the party, but, he admits, it just makes saying goodbye that much harder. He wanted just go to bed and wake up in New York tomorrow, he insists.

 

    This might be the perfect time for John to tell his friend about his own feelings, but John is a better friend than he is a lover and insists that Henry still has a room full friends out there, and that he’s wake in the morning hating himself he stayed away from them is bedroom.

      Henry hugs him for his wise words and is about to pull John out with him rejoining the party, except that John, once more the selfless idealist, suggests he go first otherwise people will think they might have just had sex or something.

      What’s a boy working so very hard against his own emotions supposed to do? Finally, they partyers have left, and John remains to help Henry clean up. Finally Henry insists on driving John home.

      Now is the time, and John tries again, reminding him of his comments that just because he’s moving, it doesn’t mean the end of friendships…. It’s a clear move to suggest that he want to maintain their friendship out of love. But this time Henry interrupts to tell him: “I was so scared that once I moved away everyone would forget about me, but you reminded me that’s not the case. Relationships still go on. I guess what I’m trying to say is I took your words to heart and I told Mike how I felt about him, and how I’ve felt about him for the past year. He even said he’d be out to visit me in a month or so. Can you believe it?”

    Unfortunately, John can as all sound is now just reverberations. There is way now that he can express his love to Henry.

    When they finally reach John’s house, Henry gets out, gives him a hug, and coos: “Friends! I gonna miss you bud.”

     “I’m going to miss you is what I meant to say. And thank you for sharing so much tonight.”

     So John stands there left with unanswered prayers, not future with the man he thought he loved.

     But writer/director Kevin J. Nguyen doesn’t end where it’s supposed to. Four months later, he wakes up to a short message from Henry, and in the process rediscovers his old letter, unsent, to him written the night Henry was moving away.

     John deletes in, no tears, no long pause of sorrow. He has simply moved on.

 

Los Angeles, January 14, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (January 2026).   

Jacob Tierney | Heated Rivalry (Ep. 1, Season 1: "Rookies") / 2025 [TV series]

turning the ice into something warm and nice

by Douglas Messerli

 

Jacob Tierney (screenwriter and director, based on the novel Game Changers by Rachel Reid) Heated Rivalry / 2025 [TV series]

 

Episode 1, Season 1 “Rookies”

 

After repeated suggestions for changes from the American producers to whom he attempted to sell the series, screenwriter and director Jacob Tierney took his TV series to the Canadian online producer Crave, with the American company HBO Max picking it up afterwards in the US and selected territories, Neon in New Zealand, and Movistar Plus+ in Spain.

     Although the creators had imagined, at best, a minor success in Canada the series eventually resulted in such positive review attention and audience support that it became a phenomenally successful series, transforming its central actors—Hudson Williams as Shane Hollander, Connor Storrie as Ilya Grigoryevich Rozanov, François Arnaud as Scott Hunter and Robbie G.K. as Christoper “Kip” Grady—into top stars and gay sex symbols, popular equally in the heterosexual world, particularly among its large female audiences.

     The success of this series might be said to rest upon the fact that, despite some American producers’ warnings that there should be no sex until at least the fifth episode, Tierney wrote in three steamy sex scenes and a rooftop love moment into the very fist episode, “Rookies,” and didn’t stop there! Right away he made clear what so many filmmakers of gay films have never been able to comprehend, that sex is the original binder of many gay relationships, even in the case of two closeted males playing at the top layers of their sports. Deeper love, even relationships, and coming out may follow, but it is the simple lure of the two lean hockey player’s bodies that bring Shane Holland, an Ottawa-born, Japanese-Canadian ice hockey player who soon becomes captain of the Montreal Metros and Ilya Grigoryevich Rozanov, a Moscow-born Russian hockey player who is selected to become the captain of the Boston Raiders.

     From the beginning these two top layer players have been pitted by the press as fierce competitors. The two, in fact, are truly competitive as they have to be to get to their positions on their respective teams. But the more they are staged as rivals, asked to repeat a quick skate into the position of standing head-against-head over a hockey puck, the more they begin to perceive their own opposition as a staged role, in one case resulting in open laughter for the absurdity of repeating the scene over and over.

   In fact, even perhaps unknowingly, they have a great deal in common. Ilya is a true outsider, a Russian who speaks with a heavy accent (Storrie just happened to be a student of Russian language and literature, perfect for the role) as well as facing constant pressure from his brother Alexei Grigoryevich (Slavic Rogozine) to pay for his family expenses, and Shane feeling some ostracization despite the Canadian culture that has embraced him because of his own bi-cultural heritage.

    They are also just beautiful human beings and, at first without even knowing it, are gay-oriented, although Ilya has a former girlfriend, Svetlana Sergeevna Vetrova (Ksenia Daniel Kharlamova) who visits him, particularly after a planned meet-up in Montreal with Shane falls through due to weather, when he engages with her in sex.

    Yet, in this first episode, all other figures remain deep in the shadows as the two men face off on the ice, get hot and steamy in the shower, and finally fellate each other in bed. With regard to their sexual encounters, it is Ilya who makes the first move, characterizing it, strangely, almost as a normative sports jock activity, hinting that it is not at all unusual for jocks to be attracted to other well-built, ass-obsessed sports companions.

      Shane, perhaps because he actually senses that he may be homosexual, is far more terrified of being found out, and even backs out of that first shower scene which consists mostly of Ilya getting an unseen hard-on and initiating what he hopes might be a mutual masturbation. But the scene quickly progresses to a seduction, as Ilya suggests that he might knock on Shane’s hotel door later that night, with Shane responding that he might answer.

      In this first episode we do not yet know that Ilya has had other gay relationships, at that he perceives himself as bisexual despite the fact that he comes from a culture that criminalizes such activity and that his own father Polkovnik Girgori Ozanov (Yaroslave Poverlo) is a well-connected Russian police officer.

    Shane, meanwhile, while appearing resistant, dresses up and then dresses down for the occasion, carefully determines whether or not to have the TV on in the background, and arranges the lighting as he awaits for the inevitable knock on the door.

       The first time, he eagerly sucks off Ilya, while coming far too quickly when Ilya reciprocates.

     After the All-Star Game in February 2011, Ilya provides Shane with his hotel room number, and, despite the fact that his room is next to Shane’s fellow player, the Montrealer shows up for another tryst, this time almost willing to let Ilya fuck him, but frightened not only for his

response—he is evidently still a virgin despite having employed dildos—plans for the sexual upgrade in their next meeting in Montreal.

     As I mention above, that match is cancelled, and their next encounter does not occur until four months later, at a time when Shane is named Rookie of the Year over Ilya, not the most felicitous moment for the two to engage in sex.

     Indeed, Shane is angry with the fact that Ilya has remained mostly absent from the event, pouting, as he eventually finds him, on the hotel rooftop. But even here Ilya kisses him, Shane  terrified that although they appear to be alone, someone might see them, and the public gesture is not yet something he can allow given the career and pressures put upon him by his mother and father.

     The episode ends with a challenge that serves also as a sexual promise to see one another in the next season.

      There’s not much time on the ice in this first episode or a great deal of fraternizing with other players or characters. Here the two central figures get to know one another primarily in bed.

 

Los Angeles, January 14, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (January 2026).