Gus Van Sant | Even Cowgirls Get the Blues / 1993

born to direct traffic

by Douglas Messerli

 

Gus Van Sant (screenwriter, based on the novel by Tom Robbins, and director) Even Cowgirls Get the Blues / 1993

 

Gus Van Sant has directed some rather remarkable LGBTQ+ films in his career to date, but unfortunately his basically lesbian cowgirl tale, based on the novel by Tom Robbins, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, is not among them.

      Presumably Robbins’ 1976 fiction was meant to be a satire, and certainly Van Sant must have felt he was making fun of some major aspects of US patriarchal-dominant culture. But what specifically either of the versions are actually satirizing I’m not certain. American notions of all things normal concerning the body, behavior, and sexual desires along with the centrality in such a normalized culture of all things commercial presumably are the obvious targets, as well as the US government’s trigger-happy response to anything under its ordinance with which it fears others may be tinkering. But do we really need an entire film to tell us yet again that we are an over-commercialized culture, that feminine hygiene matters more to us than our female’s freedom and well-being? Does it take a girl with blessedly ample phallus-sized thumbs to make it evident that our culture cherishes the standardized notion of all human body parts with which the central figure of this film, Sissy Hankshaw (Uma Thurman) is gifted with the exception of her first digits of each hand?

      And must we send out an army to surround a ranch where the U.S. Fish and Wildlife service suspects that cowgirls are holding up whooping cranes from their regular migration flights to prove to us that many an official bureaucrat is quite mad. Even the film’s resident feminist Delores Del Ruby (Lorraine Bracco) has to wonder whether you can truly prove women are the equal of all men by feeding the cranes brown rice laced with peyote, and hence making them perfectly happy to stay put instead of hurrying off.

      This film obviously believes that it is necessary in order get through the wooden heads of the American public, metaphorically speaking, by taking a battering ram to a fly—something which the film does symbolically a couple of times by cracking a whip and later popping a gun to rid the room of that species. Those instances along with the characters’ seeming abuse of chickens—dozens of them having been spun through the air 20 times each in order to hypnotize them—and bellowing cows—fortunately we don’t really see the entire herd getting shot in order to replace them with goats—might indeed have sent an army of Animal Humane Society inspectors along with the fictional Fish and Wildlife protectors to this film’s set.

      Finally, does Van Sant truly believe that he is doing the lesbian cause any good by pitting it against a nelly drag queen named “The Countess” (John Hurt) who can’t stand smelly women, and who serves to represent our culture’s mad desire for dirty money? This film seems to try to do everything it can to break up the rainbow coalition. Even bisexuals like Chrispin Glover and Sean Young’s characters are represented as rapacious brutes who scare off poor confused Sissy just as she was getting into the swing of it all during her stay in New York.

       Given the absolutely loosely stitched patchwork quilt of a plot we’re forced to follow on Sissy’s cross country picaresque meanderings, perhaps we should simply call this film a kind of “cut up,” which perhaps explains the momentary sighting of William Burroughs among the cast of dozens of the well-known literary and theatrical figures who dart in and out of Sissy’s life.

    Keanu Reeves, for example, is set up for a date with Sissy only so that he might act out an asthma attack. He is accompanied by Ed Begley Jr.’s Rupert evidently so that he can simply carry the stricken lad home and lay him safely on the couch. Buck Henry plays a doctor who likes to sculpt noses into...we can only imagine what; he cuts one of Sissy’s thumbs down to size with the unfortunate consequence of her no longer being able to get a car to stop on her endless hitchhiking adventures. Ken Kesey plays Sissy’s disappointed father. Roseanne Arnold acts like a gypsy who tells Sissy to expect a great many women in her life. And Udo Kier gets to teach Sissy how to whoop it up like a crane in order to discover bottles of feminine hygiene spray in a nearby nest. Edward James Olmos shows up as a mariachi band musician who is forced to watch the cowgirls pull down their pants in order to take over the ranch (don’t ask).

      At least Noriyuki “Pat” Morita gets to play a real character, named, unfortunately, The Chink, a kind of cave-dwelling wise man whose major insights are centered around the sounds Ha-Ha, Hee-Hee, and Ho-Ho. A Minnesotan boy fleeing his encounter with the “Master,” proclaims The Chink pulled out his wanker in front of his girlfriend. But Sissy doesn’t seem to mind his gentle ministrations whatsoever. And given the lecturettes we get as dialogue throughout the rest of the movie, perhaps his simplified verbal expressions are all for the best. Surely they make more sense and at least give an indication of what the director might want from us.

     The only character who is given any real depth is Bonanza Jellybean (Rain Phoenix) who runs the cowgirl tribe and falls in love with Sissy, who equally goes for Jellybean even if she is a little unsure of the whole thing, having some commitment to “The Countess” who after all sent her to this insane Oregon Rubber Rose Ranch. The best scenes of the film are when the two gals fall into each other’s arms or just sit up every once and a while to try to explain life to themselves. These two clueless beauties seem made for each other.

       But just to prove that queer film critic Vito Russo was right, Van Sant via Robbins original story makes sure that his only real sexually queer character gets shot dead in the end.

       Meanwhile “The Countess” who Sissy almost kills, comes back to life, and inevitably falls in love with his surgeon, who as a couple will the ranch to the remaining cowgirls. But there is no picture doctor on earth that could possibly breathe new life into this rotten raspberry of a movie. And you’d need to provide an entire mountain of peyote to make me watch it all over again—although I suspect there might be some cult lovers up to that task.

 

Los Angeles, December 14, 2021

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (December 2021).

Reid Waterer | The Kiss on the Cliff / 1993

quiet desperation

by Douglas Messerli

 

Reid Waterer (screenwriter and director) The Kiss on the Cliff / 1993

 

One aspect of gay life that is seldom spoken of is how many young people having trouble “coming out,” never manage to leap that hurdle and live the rest of their lives often unhappily in exclusively heterosexual relationships. Filmmakers and their audiences simply find it much more fulfilling to track young people who gradually come to terms with their sexuality or even to portray LGBTQ individuals who are forced to live in and yet survive homophobic societies. A person whose  sexuality is never quite determined confuses both queers and straights, and suggests to heterosexuals, in particular, that there may be any number of their kind who would have happier in LGBT relationships. The Q factor, or the eternal questioning individual is to most of society a troubling being who hasn’t been able to make a final decision on how to express their sexuality.

      While we can point to many films in which characters have come to the realization of their sexuality later in life—Geschlecht in Fesseln (Sex in Chains) (1928), the comedy series La Cage aux Folles (1978), and Making Love are focused on just such figures—and a similar number of works in which the central character lives a hidden LGBT life while pretending to be exclusively heterosexual—there are many sad stories such as the 1962 Ohio man in Caught (2011), and even of characters who joyfully lead double lives such as the dead husband of The Ignorant Fairies (2001)—there are very few queer cinematic expressions about those tortured beings who never experience the sex they are inwardly seeking.

      Reid Waterer’s short film of 1993, The Kiss on the Cliff, however, represents just such a situation. Beginning with an attempted kiss between the teenage Mark (Stephen Wolfe Smith) and his best friend Steve (Tom Tarantini), the movie quickly reveals the first boy’s rejection of what he was just about to consummate, an acceptance of gay love. As Mark tells his gay friend—recently outed in the small town in which they both live because of Steve’s one night encounter with a gay man—he doesn’t believe he is homosexual. Afterall he has the perfect girlfriend, and he doesn’t feel like he desires gay sex. Strangely, we discover, it is Mark who has sought the friendship with Steve, not the other way around, and Steve has not at all attempted to force him into any kind of sexual situation. He just presumed since his sexuality was known and that since Mark, as he continues to admit, sees him as his best friend that there might be some reciprocal desire.

      Anyone who has come out at a young age will immediately recognize Mark as a figure who is clearly intrigued by homosexuality, but just not ready to admit to or commit to being queer—as if a kiss or embrace might mean a life-long pledge to having gay sex or developing a deeper relationship. But, obviously, for one on the edge of such a symbolic cliff—and these boys are literally standing on the high hills outside of their small hometown—any fall into the arms of another means a total commitment to the jump into the yawning sexual space between them.

      Steve may not have pressured him, but actually does so now, arguing that he has to get out of the narrow-minded world in which he lives, to go “anyplace but this place,” and wants his friend to join him, for them to go to college together instead, as evidently most young men do in their town, work for their living. When again Mark argues that he’s just not ready, Steve drives him back into town.

      Mark clearly is conflicted, not even able to finish his meal. And his parents, suspecting the obvious, enter his bedroom before he sleeps to ask him not to keep the “bad” company of Steve, meaning, as Mark himself puts it, they don’t want him hanging out with a “fag.”

      Steve meanwhile has been forced to act out his leave-taking earlier than he expected when his father tells him that his divorced mother, living elsewhere, can no longer afford to make child support payments, and Steve’s father, who is out of work, asks him to find his own apartment. It’s raining, as it always does in times of total abandonment in gay films, and Steve, having nowhere to go even for the night attempts to call for Mark from outside his bedroom window. The musical accompaniment of Wolfe’s “I Will Remember You” makes it clear that the two, in fact, do love one another, but are destined to be parted. In the shower, Mark does not hear his friend’s calls, and Mark’s mother soon comes to the window shooing away his would-be lover.

     Ten years pass. Mark is now married to the “perfect girlfriend” and has a son, who we discover is named Steve. Steve’s father has just been buried, and Mark tells his girlfriend that he must go back to the house to talk with Steve, although she has gathered that they were never close friends and is troubled by her husband’s recent quietude, recognizing that something is wrong with the otherwise loving Mark.

      Mark and Steve meet up, sitting on Steve’s old bed, both young men, dressed in suits for the funeral, making small talk over what is apparent in their stares at one another, is still a deep longing for one another. Soon after, another young man, Chris (Sean Sendelsky), appears at the doorway to remind Steve that his family are waiting for him at the after burial celebration. Steve introduces him as his lover, and we perceive a wave of disappointment wash over Mark’s body. He has to go, he explains, his wife is waiting. Perhaps Steve might join him and his wife for dinner one night? “Does that include Chris,” Steve enquires, the silence marking the fact that the new generation of this small Wyoming town have not changed in their prejudices. We also recognize, however, that for Mark the fact that his beloved friend does now have a lover has created a chasm between them that no longer can be bridged as clearly as Mark had hoped it might be, that he might still have had one chance, not lost, to go back and relive that kiss on the cliff. An awkward embrace is all Mark can offer his friend.

      There is no way to rethink his sexuality at this point in his life. And we recognize that the silences about which his wife complained will now be a regular feature of their relationship.

       If Waterer’s film is not particularly a brilliant or even original work, it nonetheless captures the lives of quiet desperation, as David Henry Thoreau described it, that so many men who have lost their opportunities to even experiment with their sexual identities are forced to endure throughout most of their lives.

 

Los Angeles, January 4, 2021

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

Brian Sloan | Pool Days / 1993

keeping an eye on the steam room

by Douglas Messerli

 

Brian Sloan (screenwriter and director) Pool Days / 1993

 

Brian Sloan’s short 1993 film, Pool Days, features a 17-year-old-boy coming to terms with his sexuality, a theme which over the next decade would become ubiquitous in works such as Lilies, Get Real, Edge of Seventeen, But I’m a Cheerleader, Story of a Bad Boy, Stupid Boy and A Brother.

     Although it is a pleasant if not totally original look at the dilemma of young men and women living in a kind of mental fog despite what their loins are telling them, Sloan’s film has the advantage of being one of the earliest works of this genre which, along with the brevity of the movie (27 minutes) allows him basically to ignore the parental and social pressures brought to bear upon his child-adult with which the later films had to wrestle.

      The central character, Justin (Josh Philip Weinstein), apparently has little on his mind except the power of the pocketbook when he applies for and gets a job at a local health club as a swimming pool lifeguard. An affable young man, he accepts the responsibilities of the night shift—as long as his father can pick him up when he finishes work—a time when there are very few swimmers using the facilities, let alone those who are “inexperienced.” His job is so utterly boring that the first few evenings he literally falls to sleep on the job. With a dearth of late users, even the manager doesn’t seem to mind his occasional inattentions. If only there weren’t those complaints about the behavior of males in the steam room! Might Justin, as he scrubs up the locker room, keep an eye out for any sexual activity going on behind the plumes of steam? asks his employer Mort (Richard Salamanca).

      As in Andrew Ahn’s later 2016 film Spa Night, “keeping an eye” on something obviously involves becoming a kind of voyeur which can only increase one’s focus on the illegal behavior it represents. Indeed, most of Justin’s work simply involves reminding the club’s users of the rules. Yet the two individuals which the 17-year-old has to reprimand are seasoned abusers, including the health club’s exercise fitness trainer, Vicky (Kimberly Flynn), who upon stopping by to meet the new pool boy, pulls out a cigarette and lights it as she fatuously inquires, “Mind if I smoke?”

     Vicky is the kind of woman who believes that simply because of her sexual gender that all males are attracted to her, and she would love to get a chance to have fling with the handsome young boy, so innocent that he can get away with asking her how old she is. “28, just turned,” she mocks him, perhaps having stretched the truth in that statement as surely as her job requires her to help stretch the tendons of the club’s clients.

     The other repeat abuser, who dives into the pool against the rules, is the handsome stud of a man, ex-pool boy, now masseur-in-training Russell (Nick Kokotakis) who we know, just from the slower motions of his mop as Justin watches another hunk shower, has a far better chance to apply his rule-breaking talents upon the young boy.

      Like a hawk scooping up a young chick, Russell invites the pool boy out for pizza and a visit to his apartment where, after Justin is encouraged to leaf through his scrap book, revealing all his past boyfriends, as he attempts to apply his massage talents to the obviously intrigued but utterly nervous Justin, assuring his prey that “there’s a lot more to life than just being friends.”

      One of the charms of this kind of film—at least for LGBTQ people—is recalling all the stupid qualms one had at that age instead of simply leaping into the pleasures of life. Russell even attempts to congratulate himself for trying to help the intrigued kid to come out. But it borders, nonetheless, on blatant abuse, which often is why the innocent are allowed to remain so a little longer, unless it is forced upon them, often causing trauma.

     Russell, fortunately, is a patient would-be lover, allowing the boy to call his father to come and get him, Justin soon after is shown waiting at the apartment building’s door almost in tears emanating from of what is surely a mix of fear and frustration. As his father appropriately reminds him and inquires “It’s one o’clock in the morning” and “Where are you, anyway? The vague answers, “I lost track of time” and “I’m at an apartment...a friend from work,” speak volumes.

     Fearing to dive into the waters into which he almost plunged, the recalcitrant lifeguard encourages Vicky to try her female charms. Unlike Russell, Vicky is a “jump first, think later” kind of lady coupling with the cute kid in a back room. When her presumed charms are unsuccessful, she suffers more from self-doubt than empathy for the confused Justin.

     Finally recognizing that perhaps he should look deeper into the events going on in the hot spa, Justin dons a towel and slowly scoots closer to another handsome club user, obviously delighted by the unexpected turn of events. But at the very moment when the frightened pool boy is about to test out what really might be going on in the baths, Russell enters, scaring him away from temptation.

     It’s apparent that Russell genuinely likes the boy, and now, a bit like Vicky, determines to also take a leap with him into sex. Diving into the pool, Russell appears to hit his head against the pool floor, seemingly lifeless before becoming Justin’s first victim in need of being saved. Even after bringing the “victim” back to consciousness Justin feels the necessity of blowing in oxygen through the man’s lips, which looks to us—and to Mort who happens at that very moment to be exhibiting the pool to a new client—like a series of quick kisses.

     Both the life-saver and victim assure the boss that Russell hit his head but is now fine, no need to call the police; but Justin is disturbed by the lie his “friend” has imposed upon him. This time as his father waits to pick up his son, seeing him again with the older man results in a scowl that suggests perhaps, in the future, our young gay boy will have to face new hurdles at home. But for the time being, things are looking up since Russell’s invitation for another pizza date is tentatively accepted.

 

Los Angeles, December 3, 2020

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

Ang Lee | The Wedding Banquet / 1993

the best of all possible worlds

by Douglas Messerli

 

Ang Lee, Neil Peng, James Schamus (screenplay), Ang Lee (director) The Wedding Banquet / 1993

 

Before I hop up onto my bandwagon—which Ang Lee’s LGBTQ films inevitably and somewhat inexplicably lead me to do—perhaps I should give some evidence of my sanity and general fair mindedness by describing the good intentions behind his 1993 film, only his second feature, The Wedding Banquet.

     The story, bilingually presented in both English and Mandarin Chinese (something I highly admire) is centered around two gay men who have been living comfortably together for a number of years in one of those charming Brooklyn townhouses that in 1993 were still somewhat affordable. This couple, however—consisting of a Taiwanese immigrant, Gao Wai-Tung (Winston Chao), who heads a business centered around his real estate properties, and his lover Simon (Michael Lichtenstein), who is a physical therapist—can well afford the place. They live a seemingly near perfect life, the handsome Wai-Tung working out in the gym most mornings and Simon, who has learned basic Mandarin, cooking wonderful Chinese and other international dishes each evening. They have friends with whom they sometimes visit the bars and seem after five years to still be very much in love.

      The only thing that still rouses Simon’s ire is that Wai-Tung has never been able to tell his parents that he’s gay despite his living in a gay relationship. We well know today how difficult it is for gay men and women to break with the long traditions of Asian families who often still arrange appropriate marriages. Anyone who has seen the numerous movies, long and short, about young Chinese and Indian men and women today know the enormous difficulties involved, perhaps not as well perceived when Lee made this film.

      But now his mother is insisting that he must soon find a woman and has enrolled him in an expensive dating service. In order to be certain that they can find no one suitable he lists several seemingly impossible demands, that she be 5’9”, that she as two PhDs’, speaks five languages, is an opera singer, etc. The service selects a beautiful woman, Mao Mei (Vanessa Yang) who, despite that fact that she is only 5’8” and has only one PhD, does speak five languages and has sung in major opera companies, including the San Francisco Opera. His parents pay for her flight to the US, and the two meet up, she revealing to Wai-Tung that his father has been ill with a light stroke. She also demonstrates her musical talents, which, alas, Wai-Tung, not an opera aficionado, seems unable to appreciate. Fortunately, Mao Mei is herself hiding a relationship with a Caucasian man.

      Meanwhile, at Wai-Tung’s apartment building, one of his tenants, Gu Wei-Wei (May Chin), an artist who has lost her job again and is unable to pay her rent, is visited by her landlord to collect. Wei-Wei, a recent immigrant from Mainland China without a green card, is highly attracted to her landlord, and, despite his relationship with Simon—with whom she seems to have a better friendship than with Wai-Tung—continues to attempt to seduce Wai-Tung, offering him up a painting in lieu of her rent. In part, just to escape her wiles, Wai-Tung accepts her offer of a rather awful looking painting.

      Back at home, Simon suggests that in order to clear up the situation with his parents for once and all, that his lover should marry Wei-Wei, thus allowing her a green card, and resolving the marriage issue forever. But the moment their son announces his intentions to his parents, they announce that they are on a plane to witness the marriage. The two quickly remove all their personal gay images, hanging up traditional Chinese scrolls and putting out childhood photos of Wai-Tung. Since this film several movies have repeated the same scene, much more humorously however, since here it’s a rather serious endeavor. Simon meanwhile coaches Wei-Wei in all of his lover’s habits, body sizes, personal marks, and lifestyle. She turns out to be a quick learner, and of course in the process she will get what she’s always wanted, a marriage, even just on paper, with the handsome Wai-Tung as well as the necessary green card.

      The Gaos arrive, bearing gifts, including a gorgeous traditional wedding dress which Mrs. Gao (Gua Ah-leh) has saved and a large packet of money for the bride. The dress fits perfectly, and the previously wild-tempered and sweaty Wei-Wei transforms into the seemingly perfect daughter-in-law. Simon is introduced as Wai-Tung’s landlord, who somewhat inexplicably lives with his tenant. Simon pre-cooks most of the Chinese dinner, which Wei-Wei serves up to great acclaim upon their arrival from the airport.

      Their visit begins rather disastrously, however, as their son drags his parents off to the Brooklyn courthouse where, arguing that neither of them are interested in ceremonies, they plan to be married. The experience, wherein the Justice of the Peace (Michael Gaston) cannot even pronounce their names correctly, makes for a little comedy of errors while totally displeasing the father and mother who have come the long way to see a real wedding.

      Observing the look of total disappointment on their faces, Simon suggests that he treat them all to a dinner at one of their favorite Chinese dining spots. The restaurant, apparently, is not up to the Gao’s standards, but the owner, when he sees one of his few customers that evening, recognizes Mr. Gao (Lung Sihung) to have been his former “batman” (the personal servant of an officer) during the war with China. Hearing that it is Gao’s son’s wedding he insists on organizing an expensive wedding banquet—that of the title—truly celebrating in full style the wedding of his old friend’s son.

 

    The banquet is arranged, Simon and Wai-Tung’s friends quickly gathered up, and a true celebration occurs, pleasing not only Mr. and Mrs. Gao, but Wai-Tung’s old friends, most of whom have not seen him for years and know nothing about his being gay. A great deal of liquor is consumed and the party continues even to the bride and groom’s suite, the party-goers refusing to leave until the couple strip off all their clothing under the covers in bed.

      The unthinkable occurs, as Wei-Wei arouses her now bedded and very drunk “husband”; and when we next see them, some days later, Wei-Wei is pregnant, much to the delight of the Gaos.

       As one might expect, moreover, Simon is not at all happy about the situation and at one point the men’s relationship deteriorates into a shouting match between the three in front the Gaos, who fortunately do not understand English.

    At another point, Wei-Wei and Wai-Tung attempt to escape to visit an abortion clinic, as the suspicious Mrs. Gao attempts to prevent them by insisting she will join them. They finally drive away without her, but mid-way Wei-Wei insists upon stopping by for a hamburger and soon after tells Wai-Tung that she has decided to have the child.

       Soon after, as tensions continue to rise, Mr. Gao has another mild stroke and, after rushing from his office to the hospital, Wai-Tung finally admits to his mother that he is gay and his true relationship is with Simon, the startled but not completely unaccepting Mrs. Gao consoled by Wei-Wei who explains that she too once thought Wai-Tung might change, but now realizes it’s not something that cannot be altered, is not an attitude or a decision, but simply the way he is. They all agree to keep it from Wai-Tung’s father, fearful that he might have yet another stroke.

      Mr. Gao returns from the hospital, and the parents decide that as soon as he recovers they will return home, Simon telling Wai-Tung deciding that he too will leave him for his cowardice.

       Yet soon after, in a quiet moment alone with Simon, Mr. Goa demonstrates that he knows more than a few words of English and has been able to piece together the truth simply by observation. He not only thanks Simon for caring for his son, but gives him a “bongbao,” a substantial financial offering that is a symbolic admission of their relationship. He demands that Simon not reveal his secret, acknowledging that without the sham marriage, he’d never have been provided with a grandchild.

       By the time of the Gao’s departure, Mrs. Gao has developed a close relationship with Wei-Wei, and Mr. Goa, despite his wife’s refusal to hug Simon goodbye, warmly shakes his hand, all appearing to be happy with the final results, Wei-Wei now not only having a green card but a baby and a home in which to live and Simon and Wai-Tung pleased to become the fathers of a child—all long before gay surrogate babies and the idea of gay couples adopting children had become a major topic in film.

      In short, the film ends with a remarkable series of seemingly joyful compromises, make the film a truly conciliatory expression of the characters’ personalities and symbolizing what critic Elisabetta Marion has argued represents Lee’s intent of presenting a movie that that reaches “a peaceful coexistence between apparently irreconcilable cultures, without conferring the leading role on either of them.”

      This was one of the best-selling features of 1993, nominated for the Best Foreign-Language Film of the Academy Awards, and winner of the Berlin International Film Festival’s Golden Bear, as well was winner of several Golden Globe awards. My husband Howard, who just saw this film again after I re-viewed it, said he totally enjoyed the film.

      I saw it upon its original release in 1993, feeling about it very similarly to what I still felt this time in viewing it. And now from my band wagon I will proclaim I simply couldn’t abide its smug contentions.

      Let us begin over, with a little piece of information that I didn’t share, surely incidental to most viewings. The film does not begin with the two young boys deeply in love, but with Simon quite discontent over the fact that every time he plans a vacation for the two, Wai-Tung bows out due to the stresses of his job. The apartment building, perhaps only one of his many properties—we never quite know where his substantial income is derived—is, to put it politely, the next step up from what might get him the title of being a slum-lord. The building does not permit air-conditioning and is hotter than hell, the spaces are those precisely aimed at people as Wei-Wei, an always out of work, quite talentless artist, who tries everything she can to win over her gay landlord to seeing her as something other than a sweaty tenant disinterested in keeping a job. I should add that when he takes out the incredible talented and beautiful Mao Mei, Wei-Wei, having found a job and now serving as their waitress, is so furious in finding him with another woman that she immediately quits her new job, thus assuring that she will once more be unable to pay her rent, get a proper fan to cool herself off, or even pay for food beyond the cooked noodles she seems to consume. She is not at all the lovely daughter-in-law, Mrs. Gao later encounters, and not someone you might possibly consider as eventually a good mother.

      Indeed, the relationship between Wai-Tung and Simon is so ephemerally established that we truly don’t know what keeps the two together. Simon’s excellent cooking seems to be the major attraction other than their equally attractive physiques—the very same bonding force that seems to be behind the cowboys’ relationship in his later Brokeback Mountain, which also resisted establishing any notion of what a gay relationship might really mean other than sex. We never hear them discussing anything other than Wai-Tung’s parents and job, and there doesn’t seem to be anything substantive about Wai-Tung’s interests; all we know is that he’s not really interested in art or music. He never comments on Simon’s cooking.

      What’s worse, it seems to me, is that Wai-Tung is almost totally dishonest. He feels he cannot tell his parents, although we later discover they might have quite easily accepted the fact that he was gay; he cannot even be fully honest with Mao Mei, she being the one, having recognized the situation, to admit that she too is playing a game to please her parents.

      Indeed, the major incident of film is based on his and Simon’s elaborate lie about his marriage to Wei-Wei. But even here he seems to me to be totally selfish and unfeeling. How could he have imagined that his parents might be satisfied, given that he is so protective of their feelings, with a courthouse wedding. His stand-up marriage seems to be almost a punishment for them. And if he has been so adamant about not wanting to involve Wei-Wei and himself in ceremonies, how can he possibly agree to a huge wedding banquet that he knows is now not just a sham played out for his parents but all those who once knew him as a young man. He openly lies to all his old friends, forcing Simon to endure watching a heavy-kissing heterosexual ceremony at the event and, of course, to accept his bedding with the bride, to say nothing of engaging in unprotected sex in a time when the US was most aware of the AIDS crisis (the same year of the numerous movies about AIDS such as Roger Spottiswoode’s And the Band Played On, John Greyson’s musical satire about Patient Zero, Zero Patience, Derek Jarman's Blue, and Johnathan Demme’s Philadelphia all premiered). Wai-Tung has not even thought about bringing along a couple of condoms just in case.

      Interestingly, we do get a very brief glimpse of Simon on the street working with an ACT UP group, its pink upward pointed triangle standing out as a pledge of his commitment in a nearby poster; yet his companion seems totally oblivious to the fact of there is even a gay sexual crisis. One might have imagined that Simon and Wai-Tung might have discussed that issue among themselves earlier in the film. They discuss nothing but their missed vacation opportunity, and Wai-Tung doesn’t even really do that, promising Simon some other time in Paris.

      What follows becomes even more impossible to believe. We do know that Wai-Tung’s parents stay on longer than the two weeks they originally intended. Mr. Gao’s mild stroke extends their stay even longer. Let us imagine that they remained for three weeks more than the events of the marriage and banquet. Within that short period, Wei-Wei not only discovers that she is pregnant—possible only if she recognized that she had missed her period that very week, but possible nonetheless—but has begun to have the effects of pregnancy (she cannot bear to even look at sushi and is feeling even worse in the mornings) within the same time span. Again, although it is rare, it has happened; but generally, as I’ve read, it takes up to 8 weeks. Something doesn’t quite add up.

     All right, it’s a plot strategy that doesn’t quite make sense. Worse is the fact that the temptress Wei-Wei has finally found a way to get her man. Is it any wonder that Simon will no longer permit Wai-Tung into his bed, and that he announces that when the Gao’s leave, so will he.

     What happens to have him so radically change his mind? The money and recognition that Mr. Gao finally offers him? I doubt it. The inconsistency results primarily from the uncaring detail of the plot. So desperate are the creators to make everything right, despite the Gaos’ own deceit, Wei-Wei’s trickery, and Simon’s indecision, that it doesn’t even seem to matter. The father got his grandson, the mother her daughter-in-law, why shouldn’t War-Tun get his wife and baby and his gay lover both. After all, rich boys can afford another few mouths to feed. No need for an abortion here. With parents such as the Gaos and their son’s business savvy, he can have it all. And even knowing the truth now, the Goas have a wonderful book of wedding pictures which they can share with all their friends back in Tawain.

     What kind of mother Wei-Wei might make or what kind of father the busy, gym-obsessed Wai-Tung might be, doesn’t matter it appears since it will clearly be the gentle Simon’s role to bring up their son or daughter. I am sure if Simon can bear with the in-house duo, everything will be just fine for the child; but my sympathy out to the terribly abused boyfriend who cooks, cares about social issues, can truly take his patients out of their pain, and apparently is ready to take over the chores of family life while his lover does his shady business and Wei-Wei focuses on her quite meaningless canvasses until, in all probability, she grows bored with everything about her life. Certainly, in the group portrait of the three future parents, they don’t look very enthused.

     When I shared some of my feelings with others, they described me as being “picky.” But isn’t being “picky” or astute to the actions of others what real relationships are all about? Sorry, I can’t trust a director who isn’t careful enough about how he presents his characters with whom he expects me to share their joys and pronounce them commendable. Since no on in this pretend slice of life, expect perhaps for Simon, seems real enough for me to even believe them, how can I be expected to care about Ang’s movie?

 

Los Angeles, August 21, 2023

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (August 2023).