Monday, May 13, 2024

Mike Buonaiuto | Homecoming / 2012 [political advertisement]

gay heroes and husbands

by Douglas Messerli

 

Mike Buonaiuto (director) Homecoming / 2012 [1.40 minutes] [political advertisement]

 

In 2012 a same-sex couple British same-sex couple Conor Marron and James Lattimore created a campaign for the British Coalition for Equal Marriage in order to petition for support of civil marriages for gay couples.

     The organization was created, in part, as a response to the Coalition for Marriage, a Christian group campaigning against same-sex marriage in the United Kingdom. And they purposely created a website to mimic the look and style of the Coalition for Marriage, partially as a spoof.

     In April of that year director Mike Buonaiuto created a 1-minute, 40-second ad that begins with a plane load of soldiers returning home.

     One of the first off down the plane stair ramp is a young man who spots his wife and daughter, the wife running up to the ramp to hug and kiss her man, with the soldier next to him congratulating his buddy with a brief pat on the shoulder before he too looks for his loved one, quickly spotting who an extraordinarily handsome man just as joyful in seeing his love return home safe and sound.




    They too come together to hug a kiss, the camera hovering over them for a much longer time than, I would guess, that any advertisement had ever spent on two males in a clinch.

 


      Indeed, the camera focuses on the couple so long that we almost begin to wonder if they might not plan to make love right there in the open in front of the others. And indeed, they almost do, as the soldier pulls out a right, gets down on one knee and proposes on the spot, placing the ring on his lover’s finger.

 


       The two men kiss as the words appear across their image, “All men can be heroes.”

 



         After a few seconds, they pull away, beaming with the joy of their reunion and the idea of marriage. Another image appears soon after, across which is written the phrase: “All men can be husbands.”

 


     The campaign was so successful that then Prime Minister spoke out against same-sex marriage, attributing it to being the “Conservative” viewpoint. His speech itself used in a later audio ad for the Coalition for Equal Marriage. On July 2013 same-sex marriage became legal in England and Wales, with the first same-sex marriages taking place on March 29, 2014. In February 2014, through the Marriage and Civil Partnership, Scotland also allowed same-gender marriage. Northern Ireland approved a bill in 2019.

 

Los Angeles, May 13, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (May 2024).

Unknown filmmaker | Halebop Hockey / 2013 [commercial advertisement]

cheering him on

by Douglas Messerli

 

Director unknown Halebop Hockey / 2013 [30 seconds] [commercial advertisement]

 

The Swedish cellphone and media company Halebop celebrated their product in a Swedish hockey locker room where suddenly one of the young hockey players grabs up another of the player’s cellphone, asking outright what the message “Miss you, Theo Ekenborg” is all about.

    The challenged player pauses for only a moment before responding, “It’s my…It’s my boyfriend. We’re having our one year anniversary.”


    All the players immediately stop their chatter and look up, wondering what the response of the young questioner might be.

     “Congrats! One year isn’t easy, man.”

     The chatter picks up again, with one man in the background chiming in, “I know him. He looks amazing.”  We have to ask, is the second enthusiast of the boy’s looks, also gay?

 

Los Angeles, May 13, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (May 2024).

Volker Schlöndorff | Diplomatie (Diplomacy) / 2014

in my place

by Douglas Messerli

 

Voker Schlöndorff and Cyril Gely, screenplay, based on Gely’s play), Volker Schlöndorff (director) Diplomatie (Diplomacy) / 2014

      

It may be difficult to imagine a world without Rick’s and Elsa’s Paris, but, in reality, the City of Lights was nearly destroyed by the fleeing Nazis of 1945, headed by the old-guard Nazi general, military governor of Paris, Dietrich von Choltitz.


       Von Choltitz, who’d helped to level other cities and had been involved in the murders of hundreds if not thousands of Jews, was a career officer who’d fought in War I and the second World War, and believed fully in the Nazi cause. Because the Allies had demolished much of Berlin, Hitler wanted revenge by destroying Paris so that when the arriving Americans reached it they would find a city flooded and in ashes.

      Because of Hitler’s demands, they had already set charges on the all the city’s bridges except for the Pont Neuf (leaving that as an escape route) and had rigged up bombs to destroy many of the city’s great buildings, the Opera, the Eiffel Tower, and the Louvre, along with other major structures. The force of the bridges collapsing into the Seine would flood large parts of the city, while the explosions would kill thousands of others.

      Catching wind of the intended destruction, Swedish consul Raoul Nordling met with von Choltitz in his headquarters in the Meurice Hotel to accomplish a truce between the Germans and the French Resistance fighters, thus giving the Americans and French de Gaullists more time to arrive in Paris, and postponing the city’s destruction. In the end, von Choltitz, inexplicably, determined not to follow Hitler’s instructions, which he even declared was now insane and pointless since it was clear that the Germans had already been defeated. Yet Nordling must still be considered a hero in simply helping to postpone the burning of Paris.

      This truer version of history was recounted in René Clément’s 1966 film Paris brûle-t-il? (Is Paris Burning?), reviewed else on this blog.

       More recently, moreover, German director Volker Schlöndorff has directed a remarkable version of these series of events, based on a fictionalized play by Cyril Gely, who co-wrote the script.

       This elegant work is basically a debate, supposedly on the night of the Nazi defeat on August 25, 1944, between Nordling (here played by André Dussollier) and von Choltitz (Niels Arestrup). Although such a debate did not truly occur, we can forgive writers here since the fiction of the late night encounter most succinctly summarizes a series of more complex events, and dramatizes the true dangers that the great city was facing. If we can never be certain what Choltitz’s real motives were in finally determining to save one of the world’s greatest social and artistic achievements, the aptly named Diplomacy forcibly shows us some of the pushes and pulls that von Choltitz was facing.

    Arestrup quite brilliantly portrays the gruff but nonetheless well informed and culturally knowledgeable von Choltitz, without turning the role into either a stereotypical monster nor denying the monstrous ideas and tactics to which he was committed. While, obviously, Nordling is the moral force, and cleverly controls the conversation in a series of careful maneuvers—tossing out a series of arguments against the city’s destruction while temporarily backing away when they don’t work—von Choltitz is no patsy, and can, at moments, quite convincingly stand up for his horrific plans.


      The great diplomat Nordling, however, is a man of significant guile, whose very sudden appearance in von Choltitz’s hotel room is as surprising as an sudden vision of an angel—or perhaps a devil to tempt him. Nordling, a man of history, knows that this hotel, once occupied by Napoleon the III, who lived in von Choltitz’s very suite, had an illicit mistress for whom he built a side door and secret stairs for her nightly visits.

       Although claiming complete neutrality, it is clear that Nordling is in communication with the Resistance—he has a letter from a Resistance leader, which von Choltitz tears up without reading—and seems to know a great deal about Nazi goings-on.

     His first arguments concern Paris’ importance to world culture, as he attempts to appeal to the Nazi leader’s conscience and how he will be conceived of in history.

      Von Choltitz, as I mention above, however, has already led such a bloody life that, now in deep pain with severe asthma and facing certain defeat, these arguments have little sway with him; he is already a kind of lost soul, and surely will be imprisoned after Germany’s fall.

       Nordling then attempts to restate the obvious: that the destruction of the city will serve no purpose, arguing than even Hitler has previously spared it because of its beauty. But von Choltitz, although admitting that Hitler is probably insane, argues it is a necessary revenge for the leveling of German cities such as Hamburg and Frankfurt.

      Again backing away from those arguments, Nordling spots a drawing in the general’s possessions of Abraham, and attempts to use it as a demonstration of the awful effects of blind belief, that the Jewish leader was willing to sacrifice even his son, but God spared him the action. Where is God in this act, he pleads? But the Nazi will not be soothed by that argument: Abraham is a Jew. Should he, a hater of all things Jewish, be expected to take Abraham as his model?

      Although, most of this “debate” takes place in a single room, from time to time, the director pulls away to show us the actors, both French Resistance members and Nazi soldiers in action, before returning us to the room, where underlings come and go with great urgency. There are, after all, only a small number of Nazi soldiers left in the city, and so the tension grows by the minute—even if we know what the outcome will be.

      For me, one of the most dramatic moments of all is an incident when von Choltitz in another fit of asthma is doubled over, demanding Nordling bring him his pills. As the Swedish opens the drawer where the pills lie, he spots a hand gun. He might easily have pulled out the gun and killed the Nazi monster right there, perhaps ending the city’s destruction, since there will no longer be anyone to give the order. But Nordling is not a murderer (and his country is, after all, neutral). He gives von Choltitz his pill, and turns again to something that seems to have disappeared from world politics: diplomacy. It is a touching moment—particularly with the stakes so high—but reveals the strength of Nordling’s cause, a rational one in a world of irrationality.

       Tired of Nordling’s pleas and arguments, von Choltitz pulls out a document, signed by Hitler, and which he believes has been written entirely for him: in that decree, the Fürher is determined to arrest the wife and children of any officer who does not follow his orders. Von Choltitz fears for his own family’s lives. Turning toward Nordling he asks: “What would you do if you were in my place?” Nordling has no answer.  

       Yet, obviously, Nordling is already, quite miraculously, in his “place,” and he takes advantage of the situation to suggest that the general’s family may be quickly sneaked out of Germany by Allied forces to safety in Switzerland. A plan can be immediately activated (historians, in fact, believe that some such plan was worked out with the Allies to protect von Choltitz; he was never arrested after the war, and lived for many decades, even penning an autobiography wherein he argues that he never had intended to carry out Hitler’s orders). 


       Von Choltitz,, suddenly realizing that Nordling already knows about the entire plot, asks him outright just how he does know so much about him, Nordling admitting that the room’s large mirror is also a two-way mirror, and that the French have been spying on the Nazi’s all along.

      I imagine that there is no such evidence for this, just as there is little evidence that von Choltitz had never planned to destroy the city (why, then, were bombing devices found on all the bridges and so many monuments after de Gaulle’s forces entered the city?), but as drama it is fascinating, and helps to make Schlöndorff’s film an effective work in the documentation of how we almost lost an irreplaceable world site. Yet, all wars, this work makes clear, are meant to destroy; and we continue to lose sacred historical sites today in Syria, Iraq, and elsewhere.

 

Los Angeles, July 21, 2015

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (July 2016).

Jacques Feyder | La Kermesse héroïque (Carnival in Flanders) / 1935

getting it all by giving in

by Douglas Messerli

 

Jacques Feyder, Robert A. Stemmle, and Bernard Zimmer (screenplay, based on a story by Charles Spaak), Jacques Feyder (director) La Kermesse héroïque (Carnival in Flanders) / 1935

 

It may be hard to imagine a proto-feminist film directed by a man coming out of France in 1935, but that’s very much what Jacques Feyder’s Carnival in Flanders is.

 

     Ready to celebrate their annual carnival, the Flemish town of Boom is busily preparing decorations in the square, while the small city’s Burgomaster and his associates pose for a painting by the local artist, Julien Breughel (Bernard  Lancret), who is in love with the Burgomaster’s daughter Siska (Micheline Cheirel); at the very moment that Breughel asks for Siska’s hand in marriage, however, her father (Jean Murat) is completing a deal with the butcher (Alfred Adam) to marry her in return for regularly purchasing his livestock—an agreement which his strong-willed wife, Cornelia (Françoise Rosay, director Feyder's own wife) finds to be obscene.

      Ready to celebrate their annual carnival, the Flemish town of Boom is busily preparing decorations in the square, while the small city’s Burgomaster and his associates pose for a painting by the local artist, Julien Breughel (Bernard  Lancret), who is in love with the Burgomaster’s daughter Siska (Micheline Cheirel); at the very moment that Breughel asks for Siska’s hand in marriage, however, her father (Jean Murat) is completing a deal with the butcher (Alfred Adam) to marry her in return for regularly purchasing his livestock—an agreement which his strong-willed wife, Cornelia (Françoise Rosay) finds to be obscene.

    In the midst of these events, two emissaries of King Phillip II suddenly charge into town announcing, via a letter, that the next day The Duke d’Olivarès (Jean Murat) will be camping there for the night with his soldiers. Recalling the Spanish pillage and rape of citizens in Antwerp, the town leaders are horrified, and determine to hide out during the visit, the Burgomaster himself determining to play dead.



   Perceiving that the men of Boom will do nothing to protect them, the women, headed by the Burgomaster’s wife, declare their own war, wherein they plan to readily woo the rowdy visitors with wine, food, and sex.

     The Spanish arrive, and to their delight the beautiful women, dressed in their best gowns, gladly give of themselves and their larders, while their men hide and cower. Some of the women, especially the mistress of the local inn, give of themselves so willingly that their behavior reminded some viewers of collaboration rather than accommodation. The innkeeper’s wife offers the men her skills at mending, each time quickly finding the needle to be replaced by a shuttlecock or beam.


     In one case, a Spanish Lieutenant, after complaining that the bathing water smells of fish, pouring a bottle of perfume in it, and sending the attending body scrubber off, apparently even finds a willing homosexual encounter with a local male, the two of them sharing their skills of knitting and needlework, Feyder’s camera discretely moving off before their discussion might turn to a display of more intricate stitches and joints.


     Others, like Madame la Bourgmestre, entertain with such wit and resourcefulness, that she wins over the Duke and even gets the corrupt priest (who boasts, in a kind of dark comic moment, he has been an interrogator of the Inquisition at Toledo) to marry Siska to Breughel. So pleased is the Duke with the villagers that, as he leaves, he grants the entire city a year without taxes, which the Burgomaster’s wife immediately attributes to be the work of her husband.

      Alright, these early feminists used the sleights of their sex to get what they wanted, but they have, nonetheless, shown their power and control over their menfolk. In this somewhat inverted Lysistrata, the women not only take control but get awarded through the love of far more virile Spanish men for their actions.


      Feyder was vilified by many for his themes; and, two decades later, Truffaut singled the film out in a broadside against several French classics: “In this regard, the most hateful film is unarguably La Kermesse héroïque because everything in it is incomplete, its boldness is attenuated; it is reasonable, measured, its doors are half-open, the paths are sketched and only sketched; everything in it is pleasant and perfect.” One must remember that only a year after this French-German sponsored production, the Nazis were in Paris, and collaboration would become a real issue. Both the film’s director, Feyder, and its lead, Rosay fled to Switzerland. 

     But watching it yesterday, I truly enjoyed its lusty implications, and applauded the women of Boom for their abilities to save their otherwise exemplary lives by simply using the ploys of their gender. Moreover, in its reliance on the tradition of Dutch painting, this gentle comedy tells us more about life in 17th century Flanders than reading many an historical tract. Surely it was a patriarchal, bourgeois society, but in Feyder’s joyful rendition it was allowed to enjoy itself if only for a night.

 

Los Angeles, December 30, 2016

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (December 2016).

 

 

 

Lacey Schwartz | Little White Lie / 2014

living in a cocoon

by Douglas Messerli

 

Lacey Schwartz and Mehret Moandefro (screenplay), Lacey Schwartz (director) Little White Lie / 2014

 

How is a young girl, a light-skinned but clearly black woman, growing up in comfortable Jewish family in Woodstock, New York, able to deny her own identity until, at the age of 16, her own classmates begin challenging her perceptions? Okay, she does look somewhat like her father’s dark-complexioned Sicilian great-grandfather! Her uncles, aunts, cousins, and numerous friends do not say a word to her about what their eyes must daily tell them, refusing to comment, evidently, even about their friend’s stubbornly frizzy hair. If one needed any evidence of the existence of mass hallucinations one might simply gaze upon the Schwartz family. As their daughter, Lacey, puts it “We are saw what we wanted to believe.”


     The facts, when they become known as her parent’s relationship began to unravel, are simple, documented by what was right before their very eyes, so obvious that even when she left the questions regarding Lacey’s identity of her college application blank, Georgetown University declared her a black student, and she was immediately welcomed into the Black Student Alliance.

      How could anyone in Lacey’s place not feel completely betrayed when the simple facts are revealed? Her mother, Peggy, began an affair with a black man, Rodney Parker, the same year she met Lucy’s father, continuing the affair for several years and remaining close with Rodney and his family throughout her married life. Despite all the “white lies” (quite obviously, there is far more here than “one” lie) the rest of the family themselves told Lacey, he mother secretly knew the truth, but withheld it, quite obviously, for fear of destroying a marriage which was, in large part, unfulfilling. But even when the relationship finally fell apart, Lacey’s father finally doing the simple arithmetic, Peggy never speaks the truth. Was there ever a moment of insight that her secret might literally explode one day in her beloved daughter’s face?


      One might simply describe these family members, particularly Peggy, as being selfish. But that explains little. They were also unable, apparently, to engage in any self-reflection. Even Lacey, it is clear, was never shown in her youth how to question the world about her. Was there ever an encounter in her childhood in which anyone around asked “what is truth?” It’s as if this family and everyone they knew, including their fellow worshipers in the local synagogue as well as Peggy’s secret lover and Lacey’s biological father lived in a kind of bubble in which the very ability to co-exist depended upon their utter silence. If the numerous photographs and films in which they documented themselves suggest a sense of communal self-consciousness, we have to admit that they selves where living almost as automatons—like their cameras, mechanical devices representing what pretend to be real lives.  

     Lacey Schwartz’s documentation of her own coming to terms with the truth and her search for her own identity are not nearly as interesting as are the silences behind the encounters between daughter, mother, father, and friends. Certainly, both parents’ refusal, even after the truth had become apparent, to directly face their daughter’s questions, prove that these are people who never learned to look within. And when Lacey finally breaks through the sturdy exterior of her mother’s simplistic explanations—that she grew up in an age when things like religion, marriage, and family were simply assigned to you, requiring that you simply accept them—we discover a rather hedonistic younger self, a would-be independent person who, had she continued in that direction, might possibly have broken down some of the barriers to interiority. Yet there is also almost a sense of arrogance in her denials of wrong-doing. Somehow she still remains unable to see the complexity of her self-denials, the horrors behind her cocooned existence.


     The wronged father, Robert, in many ways, is even worse. Yes, he has been lied to, continues to be lied to even as his daughter attempts to frame her questions. But he is still more interested in his own pain, wallowing in his own sense of wounded manhood instead of attempting to help his daughter to explore the many ways in which he may not only have participated in the “white lie” of their lives, but encouraged it. Attempting to begin a conversation with him, Lucy queries whether he has noticed that she has identified with being black. His sharp retort that, of course, he has noticed her interest in black writing, music, friends, etc.—appears to suggest that exploring one’s identity is simply a matter of surrounding oneself in the artifacts of what he imagines represent that racial identity. It appears that he (and admittedly, at moments, even our narrator) has never imagined that there might be millions of blacks who do not define themselves by listening to so-called black music, by reading texts written by black writers, or necessarily surrounding themselves only with their black peers. We can understand that, in attempting to discover her own identity, that Lacey may be exploring cultural and social behavior previously unavailable to her in her white-Jewish upbringing. But her father cannot seem to even wonder if identity might be something one might want or need to reimagine.

     The “little white lie” that this troubling film refers to is not simply the fact that the family and friends chose to lie to Lucy and themselves, but that the entire society in which they were embedded encouraged and allowed that and other lies—and, even worse, continues to embrace the lie—that being Jewish and being black (unless one might be of Ethiopian heritage), being biracial, or being of several racial heritages simultaneously is something best not spoken of, not even attested to by one’s own vision. The lie arises from ignorance more than from evil intent. If one seldom encounters anyone out of one’s cultural milieu, how can one even imagine how other people live? The culture in which Lacey grew up was not racist because it would not allow Blacks to enter their community, but in the fact that it might not even recognize a black man or woman among their midst. The community in which the Schwartz’s lived (ironically, as Lucy points out, the German word for black), was not just color-blind but unable to visually and mentally make sense out anything around them, including their own lives.

     Late in the movie, Lucy asks her mother a devastatingly important question, “Might Peggy, had not met Robert and not been encouraged by her family to marry him, have married Rodney Parker, the black man who was Lacey’s father?” The mother, apparently, cannot recognize that possibility, suggesting that her Jewish husband was clever and funny and, besides, he had money. Her idea of identity, evidentially, has a great deal to do with deep pockets.

     The disturbing short film ends, fortunately, with an implicit admission that identity is never one thing, but is a series of shifting possibilities that often embrace contradiction and even conflict. Marrying a black man, we see Lacey dressed in white, celebrating in what clearly is a Jewish wedding, the families from both sides coming together to openly share an event that, almost for the first time, isn’t pretending to be something else.

 

Los Angeles, January 5, 2014

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (January 2014).   

Index R-Z

Angelo Raaijmakers I, Adonis / 2021 Peeter Rabane Firebird / 2021   Tyler Rabinowitz Catalina / 2022 Tyler Rabinowitz See You Soon / 20...