Tuesday, September 30, 2025

Luc Feit and Marcus Sauermann | Ferkel (Piglets) / 1999

sex prevention

by Douglas Messerli

 

Marcus Sauermann (screenplay), Luc Feit and Marcus Sauermann (directors) Ferkel (Piglets) / 1999

 

To describe the narrative of German directors Luc Feit and Marcus Sauermann’s four-minute film Piglets is somewhat like telling a very bad joke.


  


      A good looking man (Christoph Marti) with his pants dropped down to his ankles leans over another man (who the script describes as the “trick,” Tobias Bonn) laying across the edge of a bed with his hands cuffed to the bedstead heartily engaged in the act of fucking.

     A bad and loud German polka rings out from the next room, distracting the two from their sexual intercourse. The man engaged in the act of fucking, waddles out into the next room, scoops up his “granny’s” (Andreja Schneider) radio and breaks it apart as he clumsily moves back into the bedroom to continue the act.


      A few seconds later a piercingly loud sound shakes the walls, one small picture dropping to the floor. The man reaching up to where he keeps the keys to the handcuffs, frees the trick from his prostrate position as he attempts to quickly pull his legs free of his pants, but hasn’t the patience to finish before he struggles across the room once more to enter the space where granny has now a large drill in hand, mindlessly driving the bit into the wall. The frustrated fucker pulls the drill from her hand and uses the handcuffs to lock her hands where she sits in her wheel-chair tight against the wall, dismantling the drill as he returns to his object of pleasure.


      He returns to his partner for the third time, but now finds both his cellphone and land phones ringing, his number dialed in, evidently, by his granny’s foot.

      Again, he is frustratedly forced to return to the monster in the next room to pull away her cellphone and toss it into a goldfish bowl.

      At the door, however, he meets his friend, now fully dressed in a suit, ready to make a departure. The two briefly hug and kiss as granny, again using her foot has pulled on a lever that somehow releases two wind-up toys, the one atop the other—little pigs who scurry across the floor toward the loving men.

    I think we safely read this “joke” as a kind of fable of the variously absurd attempts of past generations and ill-willed heterosexuals of the present to stop by all means the unholy actions of their queer family members and acquaintances.


     This 1999 film almost reminds me, in some respects, of Andrew Porter’s 1997 short, Nobody I Know, in which a young man brings home a friend for sex, his sister and mother conspiring to make certain that they might never to able to spend a moment together, the son forced to deny in the end that he might even know the man who has made his way into their house.


      Of course, parents and friends also find plenty of ways to work against love between young heterosexual couples. How many thousands of tales have we been told of parental interruption in the sexual adventures of young girls and boys. But in this story, as well as in Porter’s, there seems to be an absolute joy and feeling of justification in destroying the possibility of sexual fulfillment between two gay men.

     As film critic Earl Jackson reminded me, the German work ferkel means literally a piglet, but it also is a much more truly insulting word when applied to humans. It is not plural, suggesting that the work sits squarely upon the intrusive Granny's shoulders.


Los Angeles, December 20, 2021

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (December 2021).

 


Barry Dignam | Dream Kitchen / 1999

how to come out without having to say you’re sorry

by Douglas Messerli

 

Barry Dignam (screenwriter, based on a play by Kevin McCarthy, and director) Dream Kitchen / 1999 [8 minutes]

 

You might almost say that in relationship to the wonderful 1998 coming films such as Get Real and Edge of Seventeen, Irish director Barry Dignam’s Dream Kitchen is a rather hilarious anti-coming out film. We go back to the days of Arnold Wesker’s kitchen sink dramas in Dignam’s clever screenplay based on a play by Kevin McCarthy.


     The always dreaming Son (Andrew Lovern) of this work, returns home to find his Da (Frank Coughlan) having dived head-first into his car engine, his face almost wiped away by grease and oil. His very much pregnant sister (Sarah Pilkington) rules the living room as she watches telly while digging into a bag of chips. Son’s Ma (Caroline Rothwell) is busy gossiping on the phone, mostly about her seemingly hopeless son.

      But don’t worry, like US actor Jim Parsons of today’s TV sit-coms and films, the nerdy Son is able to fantasize a world that doesn’t and maybe shouldn’t exist, where kitchens are forever modern and spick-and-span clean, his Ma is dressed up drinking a blue cocktail instead of the mix of pure gin and whatever else might have fallen into her glass. Da comes in from his garage work in a clean white uniform, and the daughter, whose soon-to-be baby has seemed to be aborted, brings in her cherry face and blond curls. Speaking a strange Shakespearian-like dialect that Son has heard the night before while watching the Bard on TV. In this new reality, Son finally is able to tell his mother he is gay.


     She’s absolutely delighted with the news, calling in the father to share the good fortune of their son’s life. She’s so excited that she can hardly speak, Da reacting in Shakespearian linguistic drag:

 

Da: Shall I die of old age before I learn what animates you so? Speak swiftly son. Lest you consign your poor father to the grave for curiosity.

Son: Father, I'm gay!

Da: Nay. 'Tis not true. I am not deserving of such good fortune. A son of mine gay?

 

     The sister enters to discover that her parents feel far more blessed about this unheard-of event than any child she might have borne.

     The doorbell rings, and in comes the blessed companion, Andrew, one of the most handsome studs imaginable. Everyone is absolutely bowled over in bliss.


     That is until the kitchen turns once more back into the world of Wesker’s Roots or Chicken Soup with Barley (along with The Kitchen his three most awfully memorable plays).*  Da returns as greasy as he left the car, and Daughter is perhaps even more pregnant. When they ask her what on earth Son is talking about, she describes it as some plays with fairies, obviously Midsummer Night’s Dream which they had watched the night before.

      Even the idea of fairies sets Da off, replying "Bloody perverts!" followed by rants that the program is "rubbish" and "dangerous."

      Just as in the Son’s fantasy, the doorbell rings. And indeed, it is Andrew just as handsome as he was (or nearly so) in Son’s fantasy kitchen romance. Son, already packed, hurriedly rushes to their quite stylish sports car as the two drive off, without obviously even bothering to explain that Son is gay.

 


    Who needs to “come out” to family when you’ve already found your prince charming? In his own way, he does come out only to drive off without any longer needing to say the magic words to his Da, Ma, and sister, the latter of whom looks like she might bear the family twins.

 

*About the time this film was made, I communicated with Arnold Wesker regarding some sort of literary event. I also sent him some of my pseudonymic Kier Peters’ plays, which I’ll grant him credit, he apparently read, writing back something to the effect that “off course, we could never have published work so openly sexual and experimental as yours in England.” I’m sure he had long ago convinced himself of that fact, a self-determined prophecy, which meant his plays were always destined to be murky and dreary sexually repressed dramas. I wonder what he felt about Shelagh Delaney’s wonderful 1958 play A Taste of Honey, which pulled the “Angry Young Men” out of the kitchen and into to the streets—where a young woman conceives a black bastard baby—and back into the kitchen again with a gay man doing the housework and cooking?

 

Los Angeles, October 30, 2023

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (October 2023).

Lane Janger | Just One Time / 1999

putting out the fire

by Douglas Messerli

 

Lane Janger and Jennifer Vandever (screenplay, based on a story by Lane Janger), Lane Janger (director) Just One Time / 1999 [feature film version]

 

There’s something you immediately want to like about Lane Janger’s supposed romance, Just One Time, particularly if you’ve previously viewed the short I review above. Admittedly, as I’ve recalled in a footnote to the above review, Janger worked for me for a semester, and I liked him very much—although at the time I didn’t know he was gay or would soon be involved with actor David Burtka, a relationship that lasted from 1994 to 2004. Ten years is quite a long time for movie and theater couples.


      Beyond my personal feelings, however, Janger, with his handsome physique and rather appealing smile is simply someone you want to like and trust. Even Victor (Guillermo Díaz), suggests to Anthony’s (Janger) fiancée Amy (Joelle Carter) that she stick out her relationship with him simply because he’s “hot.” And, apparently, they love one another.

      Yet that’s the problem with this film. It’s truly difficult to perceive what the hard-working law clerk Amy really sees in the zealously religious, culturally unaware Italian-American fireman—or, for that matter, what he sees in her. Amy is certainly attractive in a kind a waspy, high-spirited way; luckily she has been raised—or, at least, left alone to her own devices—by her hippie-like, open-minded parents. Evidently both Amy and Anthony are highly romantic in the way that Sam Baldwin and Annie Reed (Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan) were in Sleepless in Seattle (1993). Only this couple has met on a bench by the local basketball playground instead on the top of the Empire State, which pretty much represents the height of their marital aspirations.

      But the fact that Amy has agreed to study Catholic Church Doctrine just to marry this handsome lug of a man whose greatest feat of imagination, it appears, is to realize the banal straight-male fantasy of seeing his wife have sex with another woman “just one time” before their upcoming wedding when, so this foolish pious charlatan believes, it will automatically become a dreadful sin. One wonders whether the supposedly well-read Amy has even heard of feminism. Surely any feminist would not long have shared a bed with such a jerk.


       Amy instead tries to force him into perceiving just how demeaning his demand is, by insisting he stand for a moment in her shoes, and live out her “pretended” fantasy, for him to have sex with another man. Any reasonable heterosexual male bigot might have put on the breaks right then, folding his silly fantasy back into the whack-off books for when his wife is out of town.

       A truly perceptive and curious man might have even gone through with her threat, knowing that a jack-off with a good-looking guy or, if necessary, even with closed eyes, might be worth checking out. But not this village idiot, who with his fireman friend Dom’s help, is convinced that if he “pretends” to go through with the deal it might satisfy her enough to permit him his last gasp of a teenage jack-off dream.

        Fortunately, the “man” she has chosen for him, the local gay boy Victor, is even more innocent that he is. For Victor the very idea that his long-squelched gay sexual desires might be consummated by a hunk he’s had the hots for since high school is more than a daydream; it’s as if some fairy god has come down a granted him his most fervent prayer. Innocently eager and ready, he attends to Anthony as if he is reporting to a general about to award him a merit badge for having been so very sexually patient. His nearly out-of-control excitement in being asked to play this role, however, also immediately breaks the heart, as we realize all his hopes are certain to be dashed by this empty-headed representative of male insecurity.


        In an attempt to stall any actual sexual breach of his male normalcy, Anthony agrees, again upon his friend Dom’s (David Lee Russek) advice to go on a date with his newly-assigned sex mate to a gay bar. So terrified is Anthony of his trip to his local queer “funhouse” that he insists that his best friends accompany him.

     What we realize in this outing—you’d think they were traveling down the Congo river instead stopping off into a local hangout—is that the seemingly affable Anthony is a true homophobe at heart, while his supposedly queer-baiting buddies have a great time dancing it up, ready to return for a free visit on “wear a wig” night. When Victor, saying goodnight, says that the event was the most fun he’s ever had, we want to cry instead of snicker.

      And there’s something else going on here that just doesn’t sit right. Admittedly, hundreds of heterosexuals have performed as gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgender beings throughout the history in LGBTQ-themed movies and plays, so it should really come as no surprise that the homophobe in this case is played by a gay man. But the fact that the directors have repeatedly chosen straight males to perform as gays when they might have chosen any number of excellent gay actors instead, has always exasperated me, particularly when the gay figures, as in the TV series Number 96 I just reviewed yesterday, served as models to young people who were suffering sexual confusion. In that Australian series not one of the actors who played the gay characters was truly homosexual. Wouldn’t it have been nice to know that such a model might actually have a same sexual existence behind him?


       It seems even a bit more bizarre, accordingly, to imagine a gay man actually taking on the role of a homophobe, or at least a man who can’t even abide the notion of actually participating in gay sex? If nothing else, it perhaps explains the discomfort with which Janger plays this role, his frowning fearfulness literally sucking out any of the fun that the comedy might offer.

       In her search into lesbian sexuality, Amy is a bit more successful, actually forming a kind of attachment to the woman, Michelle (Jennifer Esposito), with whom, if it becomes necessary, she has reluctantly chosen to have sex. Unlike Anthony, who leaves poor Victor to speak to his friend Dom, Amy actually gets to know her potential sexual partner, and even to like her, finally entering into the new friendship enough that one might describe her as actually exploring her own sexuality, and certainly wondering in the process whether she has chosen well in a life-time companion who is seemingly determined to carry out his infantile delusion.


      If nothing else she begins to realize that stupid fantasies have real life consequences, whereas Anthony, now made jealous by Amy’s new relationship with Michele, feels even more threatened and insistent that she prove her love for him through her performance of his request. That Amy finally wakes up to the fact that Michelle and even the total inexperienced Victor have more mature sexual lives than the one she has with Anthony ultimately forces her to leave him at the very moment he becomes convinced that she really has fallen into the arms of a lesbian lover.

      At this point it simply becomes too difficult to care much about what the writer-director-actor might have to say to us. Suddenly Anthony’s hairy pecs and sharp jaw line no longer are enough.

      By the end, without Anthony truly comprehending the significance of the facts, he discovers that he has slept the night with Victor in bed—an important event for a homophobe even if no sex was involved—and that his best friend from six years of age is not only gay, but when watching porno tapes with him as kids, really did have sex with him. He’s even, just once, dressed in drag.  

     Victor gets the handsome Dom as his real bedmate, and Amy inevitably forgives Anthony, hoping to shut out any future fantasies with the reality of her love. But the fact that they make their reconciliation in the same small park where they first met, suggests that they haven’t gotten very far.  And we have to wonder, given the new worlds she has explored will a man who seemingly has still not assimilated reality be enough for so far many times than just “once?”

 

Los Angeles, January 12, 2021

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog and World Cinema Review (January 2021).

 

Lane Janger | Just One Time / 1998

an empty slate

by Douglas Messerli

 

Lane Janger (screenwriter and director) Just One Time / 1998 [short film version]

 

Producer and director Lane Janger’s* short film of 1998 Just One Time might almost be described as a brilliant trailer for his 1999 feature film by the same name. In the latter the situation is repeated, but we get to actually know the characters and see them come to some sort of resolution regarding the sexual challenges, Amy (Joelle Carter) and Anthony (Janger) demand of each other before they can be married.

     Yet, I somehow like the abbreviated version better simply because it allows the viewer’s imagination to play out a wider range of possibilities on which the feature finally reneges as it settles instead for a greater sense of awareness concerning the fluidity of sexual identity.


     In the short of 8 minutes we quickly meet Victor (Guillermo Díaz), a gay boy who wears fuchsia running shoes but is still wary of telling his parents about his sexuality, and Michelle (Jennifer Esposito) a lesbian whom Victor, because of his fears of being spotted by his mother, requires to purchase his gay magazines.

     As they walk past the window neighborhood they overhear a heated argument between Amy and Anthony, from which Michelle walks away, while the ever-curious Victor, who is highly attracted to the handsome Anthony, stays on to eavesdrop.

      The macho Anthony has asked his fiancée to grant him the favor before their marriage, for “just one time,” to let him watch her having sex with another woman. She is understandably outraged by his request, while he, a somewhat sexist fireman (as we later discover in the longer film) sees no harm in his request. So upset is Amy that she slams the door and comes out to the building stoop, where Victor stands, to brood about it.


      Equally insensitive, Victor cannot understand why she also might be also outraged by his auditing their conversation. But he is so charming in his complete candor that she shares her concerns with him, debating whether or not she should even leave Anthony for making such an outrageous request.

      Victor sees it another way. Why should she leave the obviously “sexy and hot” Victor when she might easily arrange a quick fling with Michelle that would satisfy Anthony’s whims?

       Those “whims,” we quickly discover represent a far deeper desire as Janger’s camera suddenly returns to the bedroom where we watch Anthony pull out an apparently lesbian magazine from under his bed with, which along with a handful of lubricant, he begins to entertain himself.

       A few seconds later Amy returns, interrupting his masturbatory pleasures, to announce she will go through with the deal if only he promises fulfill her part of the bargain. He agrees, as she announces her request, that he have sex with a male—in this case the all too eager Victor, who immediately appears at the doorway muttering that he’s never been this lucky before and suggesting that his only sexual experience has come from magazines, ready and willing to take on the adventure as he quickly begins to strip.


     The horrified Anthony, already naked under the covers, temporarily seeks a way to escape the pact, but Amy stands at the watch reminding him “It’s only just once.”

    What any normal gay male would desire, obviously, is that the one time might convince the “hot” Anthony to try it again and again, just as any regular lesbian might wish that Amy truly come to enjoy Michelle’s company. I’ll describe what actually does occur when I review the feature below. But for now, at the close of the short, all options are on the table.

     And that’s the joy of Janger’s short: in its very brevity the film puts no limits of the possibilities we might dream up for all the characters involved. It’s an empty slate which the viewers are encouraged to fill in.

    This work won a GLIFF Award in the "Best Boy's Short" category at the Austin Gay & Lesbian International Film Festival.

 

Los Angeles, December 7, 2020

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

Carl Pfirman | Boy Next Door / 1999

the quarrelsome siblings

by Douglas Messerli

 

Carl Pfirman (screenwriter and director) Boy Next Door / 1999 [13 minutes]

 

How time flies and next-door heartthrobs differ in a mere 95 years. In 1904 a girl like Judy Garland’s Esther Smith could expect that with a just a few prods—a high school party and a meet-up on the trolley on it’s way to the Louisiana Purchase Exposition—that she’d lasso her age-appropriate boy next door, John Truett, in Meet Me in St. Louis.

    But by 1999, at the end of the same century, there is serious competition between brother and sister, Chris (Tom Lenk) and Charlotte (Piper Harrell), for the hunky new neighborhood boy Rick (Robin Larsen) who lives just across the street in their suburban community. 


      Even more outrageous than the sibling rush to fetch the handsome new pool boy a coke in the 2017 gay Coca-Cola ad wherein their mother beats them to it, Chris swirls his sister’s toothbrush in the toilet bowl and rubs hair dandruff into it, while Charlotte steals the gay porn mags from under his bed and refuses to return them—all in punishment for each other’s attempts to entice the boy to which they claim courting rights.

     Instead of the motherly support that Garland receives from Mary Astor, these siblings’ mother demands their get their “bitchety, faggoty asses” into their bedrooms before her date arrives.

     On the boy front, Charlotte is awarded a ride in his red roadster, while Chris enjoys a bicycle outing with the body beautiful Rick.

 

   Yet in the end, it is all for naught; while the two stage a front lawn brawl, Rick’s girlfriend (Lindsy Fellenbaum) shows up to be embraced and kissed. She’s a beauty, but since she’s wearing bibbed-overalls perhaps writer/director Pfirman is hinting, at least in the stereotypical view of costume, that Rick might be equally attracted to both female and male genders.

 

Los Angeles, September 30, 2025

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (September 2025).

 

Louis Reinke | Him / 2025

from fantasy to obsession

by Douglas Messerli

 

Louis Reinke and Molly Chivers-Cousins (screenplay), Louis Reinke (director) Him / 2025 [5.30 minutes]

 

Almost all of us have fantasies that we play over and over again in our imagination. How many times have I replayed that amazing afternoon when in Norway the school’s star speed skater came into my room and laid down on top of me on my narrow dorm-room bed? I was too afraid to even move, let alone accept his frustrated attempt to make love right there in front of my roommate. But nothing happened. I didn’t move despite the fact that in my imaginative fantasy I finally unfreeze my love with embraces of absolute delight.

    But when do those fantasies set in as possible realities? When the does that crack between eye-contact or an accidental touch and an actual encounter get filled in with “true” events? That is the question that Louis Reinke asks, although not very effectively, in his short film Him.


    The narrator of this short film (Jack Harney) evidently works as a bartender in a pub and spots, one afternoon, a truly quite lovely twink (Oliver Pope). From that encounter, he spins out a “scenario,” his word, that includes a somewhat eventful affair despite the fact that in the film’s images we see only this cute boy breakfasting with a girl. Even our narrator admits that one night he comes out of he bar to observe his apparently now “ex-boyfriend” standing at the corner where he is quickly met by his girlfriend, the two sharing a big hug. “

   All he can mutter is “Last thing I heard was he has a girlfriend now.” But the reality is revealed in the crack between his words and images we perceive on the screen. The “scenario,” which involves the boys meeting outside the bar and going home together, is just that, an imaginative vision of possibilities, the film even revealing a kind of conjuring up of the other, as the twink suddenly appears across our narrator’s breakfast table or later blurs in and out of the film’s flicker as the narrator stands alone on a beach.


     The scenes in the bar, the “real” world where the narrator works and first spots his fantasy boy, show only his object of his desire drinking alone or with a girl. The relationship between the narrator and the cutie is all the product of his cruising, not apparently a real encounter.

     Only in the shadowy world of the streets, an empty beach, or in the even darker corners of his ghost-like apartment rooms does any “relationship” between the two boys take place.

      In fact, there is clearly is no “place” for the narrator in this cute boy’s world since it is quite clear that he is straight and any affair the boys might have had occurred only in the narrator’s head, not his bed.

      By the end of the film we have to restate our question: “When does a fantasy become an obsession?”

 

Los Angeles, September 30, 2025

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (September 2025).

 

Index R-Z

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