Friday, July 24, 2026

Ford Fairchild | Hidin’ Somethin’ / 2025 [music video]

a housewife’s revenge

by Douglas Messerli

 

Chris Housman (composer and performer), Ford Fairchild (director) Hidin’ Somethin’ / 2025 [4 minutes] [music video]

 

This recent music video by country-style gay composer and singer Chris Housman consists of a simple revenge story right out of Alfred Hitchcock’s famed TV series, although perhaps this is a bit more perverse than even the master of murder and mayhem might have imagined.


      In bed together after spending the night love-making are too heavily tatted men, Housman and Gable LaDuke, the later playing the lying husband of preacher’s daughter Brauwyn Spinner. Housman wonders where, suddenly his night-time lover is on his way to. LaDuke simply mumbles something about the fact he has to do something that day, even though supposedly it’s his day off from work. However, he accidently leaves behind his wallet, and Housman discovers, picture by picture, the real truth through a picture and a hidden wedding ring.


   We quickly discover where he’s headed as we observe his wife (Spinner) reading an old love letter from another man she’s discovered in a box. From there on the song takes over, recounting her love and sacrifices for the man that all this time has been ‘hidin’ not only ‘somethin’,’ but his entire identity as a bisexual, gay-oriented man who has betrayed his wife and family.

     She cooks up a special pot pie which quickly puts him in a hidden grave, dug by hand, making her another person is now is “hidin’ somethin’.”

      But the whole story told in the lyrics about how many years she has put up with his “beatings and the cheating that…put her through hell,” reveals her fury and supposedly justifies her culinary murder.

     The heavily inflected voice and instrumentation on the chorus which repeats “hidin’ somethin’” is a powerful reminder of what is truly at issue in this musical narrative, again directed by Housman’s usual partner, Ford Fairchild.

 

Grew up at the crossroads of a preacher's daughter and a farmer’s wife

She thought she found a one woman man to love her ‘til the day she dies

But 30 years in, done raising his kids, and keeping his front porch swept

She found a box full of letters, he shoulda been better at hiding those secrets he kept


He finally found one hole that he can’t get out

‘Cause she’s got a shovel and a whole lotta ground

She goes way out where the lord can’t see

She ain’t weeping under those willow trees now

He’s getting what he had coming

She’s serving that backwoods justice

By the time that the sun comes up

He won’t be the only one hidin’ somethin’


She could take the beatings and the cheating hell that he put her through

But everything hit different when she read ‘bout the other folks he left black and blue

So on Sunday night, made his chicken pot pie, and she threw a little something else in

By the time it got dark she was rolling up a tarp, his cold heart won’t be beating again

 

‘Cause he’s found one hole that he can’t get out

‘Cause she’s got a shovel and a whole lotta ground

She goes way out where the lord can’t see

She ain’t weeping under those willow trees now

He’s getting what he had coming

She’s serving that backwoods justice

By the time that the sun comes up

He won’t be the only one hidin’ somethin’

 

     Clearly Housman has no sympathy whatsoever for the millions of men whose gay sexuality is kept a secret from their wives, family, and, at moments, even themselves.

 

Los Angeles, July 24, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (July 2026).

 

Marcel Varnel | Girls Will Be Boys / 1934

convenient cross-dressing

by Douglas Messerli

 

Roger Burford, Clifford Grey, and Curt Siodmak (screenplay and scenario, based on a play by Curt Siodmak), Marcel Varnel (director) Girls Will Be Boys / 1934

 

In this oddly titled British film—it concerns only one girl and she actually doesn’t want to be a boy—the truly misogynistic Duke of Bridgewater (Cyril Maude) is visited by his granddaughter, Pat Caverley (Dolly Haas) who, discovering the Duke’s hatred of women, dresses as a boy visiting in an attempt to uncover why he has excommunicated her father and to learn perhaps if he (her male double) might become the heir.


      Given the entry of a woman disguised as a man into all-male world ruled over by an addle-minded and toadying head butler, Grey (Edward Chapman) and a handsome business manager Geoffrey Dawson (Esmond Knight), there are plenty of moments of male hysterics as Pat convinces everyone she is a boy, except for Grey who has brought her, very much against his will, back to the Bridgewater mansion.

     Much like Gilbert Pratt’s 1924 comedy Grandpa’s Girl, Haas’ Pat proves to be a spunky, independent thinker who, although put through heavy training to turn him/her into a better physical specimen, inevitably falls in love with Geoffrey who together finally find a way to convince the old geezer of a grandfather that a female heir is just as good as a male.


     The only rather clever twist in this simple crossdressing tale is that when Pat turns back into a woman in order to help greet and serve as hostess to the visiting Princess of Ehrenstein (Irene Vanbrugh), her grandfather thinks Pat is still a boy now successfully dressing up in drag to provide the social graces he has felt missing when greeting the unwanted guest. The Duke doesn’t seem to be amazed at all of how wonderfully convincing his male heir is as a female impersonator, but simply seems mystified that all the men around her, including the Princess’ womanizing son, Sanders (Charles Paton)—who the female Pat flirts with in order to make Bernard jealous—can’t see through his grandson’s disguises.

      The work is well directed, and there are a few delightful comic moments, but for the most part by 1934 this kind of tale had become a stale subject that titillated and joked about crossdressing in the manner of Viktor/Viktoria rather than truly being interested in transgender desire. Pat, in fact, is totally relieved by having to transform herself back into her cis-gender self, and discovers, in the end, no matter how much she might wish to dismiss the woman-hating coot of a granddad, she loves him dearly; he realizing that the admiration is mutual, meaning that she will inherit the estate and marry its handsome business manager, the perfect resolution of family and financial concerns, in short, the best of all possible worlds.


      By 1934, frankly, the whole pretense of convenient gender confusion and resolution was becoming boring. Of far greater interest is the film in which Haas played just previous to this one, Das häßliche Mädchen (The Ugly Girl, aka The Ugly Duckling), directed by the Jewish filmmaker Hermann Kosterlitz (who in the US would later be known as Henry Koster), a film which used her character to explore the implications of being ostracized from society as the Jews were. By the time of its 1933 premiere, Kosterlitz had already escaped, but Haas’ co-star Max Hansen, who was reputedly half-Jewish, had in 1932 performed a cabaret song, "War'n Sie schon mal in mich verliebt?" ("Have you ever been in love with me?"), implying that Hitler was homosexual, which led the Gestapo to send a contingent to the theater to create a riot. The Film-Kurier described it:

 

“[W]histling was heard from various sides. The applause stopped. The whistling continued. The curtain remained closed because rotten eggs were thrown at the stage. Someone called from the balcony: "We want German movies! We want German actors! We do not need Jewish actors, we have enough German actors! Aren't you ashamed, German women, to applaud Jewish actors? Oust the Jew Max Hansen, who only six months ago sang a couplet about 'Hitler and Little Cohn' in a cabaret!"

 

     Soon after, Hansen left Germany for Vienna and then Copenhagen, while Haas quickly accepted the invitation to come to England to work on this film, and remained. Later she would marry American caricaturist Al Hirschfeld and perform in several stage shows including the 1946 musical Lute Song with Mary Martin and Yul Brynner, off-Broadway in The Threepenny Opera, and in film as the murderer, Otto Keller’s wife, in Alfred Hitchcock’s I Confess.

 

Los Angeles, March 29, 2022

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (March 2022).

Andrea Romano | 9ème étage droite (9th Floor to the Right) / 2022

a guide book to using others to impose order and power

by Douglas Messerli

 

Jonathan Palumbo and Andra Romano (screenplay), Andrea Romano (director) 9ème étage droite (9th Floor to the Right) / 2022 [16 minutes]

 

Lorenzo, an Italian-born masseur-physiotherapist (played by director Andrea Romano) living in Paris is looking forward to his date in met on line, Marvin (Mexianu Medenou). He’s showering when Marvin calls and explains he already outside the building, Lorenzo giving him the precise instructions “9th Floor to the right.”


  The tall and striking black man Marvin arrives, however. with a filthy homeless man, Thomas (Matthieu Sampeur), who he has found outside the building on the street and has brought him along to their encounter simply so that he might shower.

    Lorenzo is shocked, and at first refuses, but Marvin argues that all the man needs is 5-minute shower and embarrasses his new date by insisting that he has it all in control. Yet Lorenzo, although hardly being able to refuse, is not at all allayed. As Thomas heads into the shower, Lorenzo snaps “Do you do this often?”

    Suddenly, of course, he has brought the issues of both class and race to the door of his new supposed friend. And I know this issue fairly well since when I first moved to Los Angeles, my Sun & Moon offices were located in a high rise that had locked bathrooms; in those days in that neighborhood in 1985 there were perhaps even more homeless than now. If you recall those were the Ronald Regan days, when suddenly hospitals and other institutions were closed down, forcing their patients to the streets, to say nothing of the loss of jobs and benefits in a time before we even had Obama Care. I let in several people I saw every day on the street just to use the bathroom, but soon received a memo from the management making it clear they were not allowed any such egress of their facilities. I still continued occasionally, just out of empathy in a day before the city provided some port-a-potties and weekly showering spots for these folk had been forced to defecate in public. But finally, I was personally threatened by the management, and forced to stop any such sympathetic gestures.

   But, obviously, a private residence is a place where such intrusions are almost unforgiveable. The man looks almost sick, suffering from a disease.

    Marvin, it turns out, runs a start-up, connecting companies with Instagram influencers.


    Thomas, having finished with his shower, appears naked, the two men opening the door at that very moment when Thomas steps out from the shower. The gay gaze is obviously from director’s frame.

     Lorenzo rushes to get a towel, Marvin commenting, once they have closed the door, that Thomas is good-looking, a fact which Lorenzo simply denies, Marvin teasing him of being jealous, a strange thing indeed for someone to say that has shown up as a kind of Grindr date.

     Thomas interrupts their sexual small-talk asking if he has a T-shirt and socks he might wear. Lorenzo offers him both.

     But then it goes even further when Thomas asks Lorenzo if he has something to eat, Lorenzo quite stupidly asking “Are you hungry,” with Marvin responding, “Of course, he’s hungry.”

     He goes to the refrigerator and brings back what’s left of a delicious birthday cake, a piece of which Thomas immediately devours.


    But Lorenzo is clearly pissed, and no gentle stroking from Marvin can relieve the tension and the sense of intrusion in his daily ritual that it has already involved. Yet Marvin and he do lay back for a moment, Lorenzo still turning away. At that point Marvin, rests his hand on Thomas’ leg, who stands up in distress and confusion.

     Now we have entered an entirely new dimension, wherein we realize that the supposedly empathetic Marvin has brought back the homeless boy just for sex. His was not a reaching out of sympathy but out of a sense of his power. Marvin calls him crazy, as Thomas speaks out, “Okay a shower. You want my fucking ass!”

     Lorenzo who has not noticed the hand-resting event, is startled, upset beyond all else at this point, particularly when Marvin begins to deny his action.

     “Okay, a shower, but then you enjoy your time; we’re chill. What’s wrong?”

     By this time, we realize that everything is wrong including our own perceptions of who Marvin is, and how he has been manipulating the entire situation for his own pleasure, the fetish that some gay men have for homeless boys now having been placed on the table, so to speak.

     When Lorenzo finally tries to step in to make it clear that he had nothing to do with Marvin’s intentions, his new “friend” turns the problem on Thomas, even offering him 5 euro for his hot body.

     As Thomas leaves, Lorenzo quietly explains that he had nothing at all to do with this, while Thomas answers, as a lady leaves an apartment with her son in disdain of the situation. Thomas answers that he didn’t want to scream. Both, however, recognize the horror of the situation.

     As Lorenzo goes to clean up his bathroom shower, a kind of fetish itself, he tells Marvin he can leave any time he wants.

     Marvin follows him, trying to re-encourage, at least, with their sexual rendezvous, but Lorenzo turns angrily away. Marvin t still cannot comprehend, “What’s the deal here?” and Lorenzo tells him it’s over.

     As Lorenzo’s would be lover turns back to ask once more what Lorenzo’s name is, the Italian responds “Forget it.”


     Both men have been reprehensible, Lorenzo for not immediately offering his hospitality and friendship to the homeless man because of his own fetish for cleanliness and the order of his world, and even more so Marvin for his abuse and sense of empowerment over those in dire straits. But it does appear, at least, as Lorenzo now sticks his fingers into the cake, slowly devouring its deep chocolate, has learned something from the series of events, a realization of his own fetish and separateness if nothing else as he moves to the balcony, eating the cake with his fingers, which one might describe as getting “dirty.” He has presumably been awakened while, in this case, the black entrepreneur has not.

     This short French film has deep dimensions of political and social meaning where so many others simply focus on gay issues and sex. This work provides a much-needed spotlight on some of the failures of the gay community with its search for endless pleasure: cultural, financial, and sexual.

 

Los Angeles, July 24, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (July 2026).

    

William A. Wellman | The Public Enemy / 1931

boyfriends

by Douglas Messerli

 

Harvey F. Thew (screenplay, based on a book by John Bright and Kubec Glasmon), William A. Wellman (director) The Public Enemy / 1931

 

The very last place where you might have looked for a sissy to be hovering over a muscled tough guy, measuring and commenting on his every bodily limb, is in William A. Wellman’s highly esteemed The Public Enemy, with the gangster, Tom Powers (James Cagney) being measured for a new suit by impressed tailor (Harold Minjir) with Tom’s inseparable friend Matt Doyle (Edward Woods) and the tailor’s assistant Douglas Gerrard looking on amused by all the fuss, the latter carefully writing down the measurements of the muscled killer as if he were noting down an address and a telephone number for a future date.


      In the midst of so much meanness and blood, the scene was surely meant just to be amusing, the tailor so unrelated to the real world that—even when after he praises Cagney’s muscled biceps (“Oh, sir, here’s where you need extra room, such a muscle!”) being warned that if he doesn’t stop fussing that the gangster will show him what it’s used for—doesn’t bat an eyelash as he swoops down to measure the meanie’s inseam. But that didn’t stop Joseph Breen and the Hays Code committee from cutting the scene in the 1941 re-release. Even the sight of Mae Clarke attempting to serve him up breakfast in bed was snipped by their scissors.

      If Wellman’s plot of how a young street tough grows up become a hardened mob underling who shakes down barkeeps who refuse to carry Paddy Ryan (Robert Emmett O’Connor) and Nails Nathan’s (Leslie Fenton) brand of beer and is more than willing to mow down anyone who attempts to stop him is fairly predictable, as critic Daniel Eagan aptly puts it, Cagney’s “eyes burn through his shots, commanding attention, bringing urgency to [moments] that [don’t] really deserve it.”

     Moreover, Wellman’s chronological presentation of how Tom got to where he ends this tale—a ghoulish dead corpse delivered to his mother’s doorstep—turns him into a kind of legendary American hero rather than what the movie introductory and closing statements attempt to claim represents the film’s real purpose: to reveal the true evil of such figures.


     Despite his numerous robberies, his pointless killing of a policeman and a horse, and his later revenge murders of his old fence Putty Nose (Murray Kinnell) and the opposing mob head—all brilliantly portrayed by Wellman through sound effects (a head falling upon a piano keyboard, the whinny of a dying horse) offscreen—we can’t help liking Tom, who even after he has outgrown the childhood character portrayed by Frank Coghlan, Jr. often still seems throughout the film like a grown-up spoiled boy, as his later girlfriend Mamie describes him, who can’t cope when he doesn’t get what he wants.

      Astoundingly, Wellman turns his white sis-gender heterosexual all American kid into a kind of misunderstood outsider. While Breen and his boys fussed over the sissy boy scene, they missed the subtle kind of coding this director had previously woven into his 1928 film Beggars of Life. For all his bravura manifestations of heterosexual dominance, at heart Tom is a mamma’s boy, more tied to her apron strings than his do-gooder, straight-laced brother Mike (Donald Cook) who works hard, attends night school, and joins the Marine Corps in World War I.

      As Matt ruminates to his new wife Gwen (Joan Blondell), “I guess Tom’s not the marrying kind,” the age-old term for queer males. Given Cagney’s mostly macho remonstrations that may seem like an audacious and even ridiculous idea to assert. But consider the evidence.


      Throughout the entire film, Tom goes everywhere with his lifelong “boyfriend,” as his blonde enchantress Mamie (Jean Harlow) describes Matt—and Tom’s other male friends. Every scene in which he might settle down for a little heterosexual pleasure is immediately interrupted—in what could be described as one of the most obvious examples of coitus interruptus the cinema has ever portrayed—as time and again he is immediately called away by his male friends on “business.” And even when he seems temporarily settled into a relationship with a woman, he quickly looks for a way out. Who other than an extreme misogynist might imagine planting a half cut-open grapefruit on Mae Clarke’s pretty mug? The act is so ridiculous that most commentators describe it as the most memorable scene in the movie.


       In fact, we are never shown him engaged in sex, let alone willing to marry a girl as Matt is Gwen. The one time in the film when he is forced into a sexual act by Paddy Ryan’s “mature” girlfriend (Mia Marvin)—she presumably “raping” him while he is drunk—the disgusted Tom goes barging out of the safe house where he’s been holed up, with Matt tagging behind him, the “boyfriend” shot down and killed by machine guns aimed at all those who might dare to leave. And it is that event which ultimately results in Tom’s downfall and his realization that he’s not so tough when he attempts to revenge Matt’s death by killing the head of the rival gang.

       Despite the screenplay’s cover of sibling hatred—Mike is everything in the “normal” world that Tom is not, a married, working man, who educates himself and finds of way to kill men through warfare without any of the societal stigma, the latter a fact with which the younger sibling challenges him when Mike refuses to share a glass a beer in toast to his return home from the War—Tom’s true love and source of envy is his elder brother. Mike is the only figure in this film who Tom allows to challenge and even brutally slug him (in the process of filming the scene Cagney evidently lost a tooth but remained in character nonetheless) without seeking revenge.

     Even after Tom’s been seriously shot and lays in a hospital bed, he admits to his mother that he is convinced that she must surely love his brother better. And although his bedside conversations are not nearly as convincing as his backroom excitement over the enticements of mobster plots, he assures his brother of his admiration and determination to follow his example when he recuperates.

       Obviously, there is no possible “cure” from the real sickness racking Tom’s body. And brothers, particularly given this film’s trajectory, cannot be represented as lovers or even close friends—although Mike suddenly seems tortured by a previously unperceived deeply felt passion for his younger brother’s welfare, willing even, when Paddy Ryan reports that Tom’s been kidnapped by the rival gang, to take to the streets to fight like a mobster to bring his brother back. 


     And when Tom is brought home as a Frankenstein-like corpse, Wellman arranges that he is specially delivered up to Mike, who finally is left with the duty of explaining both Tom’s life and his own hidden knowledge of his brother’s activities, as well as their secret feelings for one another to both his mother, wife, and possibly himself. Suddenly we have entered into the domain of a horror tale.

      Wellman did not gain the sobriquet from his fellow cineastes “Wild Bill” by accident. 

 

Los Angeles, November 16, 2021

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (November 2021).

Satyajit Ray | জলসাঘর (Jalsaghar) (The Music Room) / 1958

trapped in the past

by Douglas Messerli

Satyajit Ray (screenplay [based on a story by Tarashankar Bandopadhyay] and director) জলসাঘর (Jalsaghar) (The Music Room) / 1958

 

Satayajit Ray's fourth feature film is one of his finest, even if it is, at times, almost lugubrious in pacing and thematics. But then the world of Biswambhar Roy (Chhabi Biswas), one of the last traditional feudal Zamindar's (landlords) of 1930s, is a place of stasis, Roy languidly sitting on the top of his palace, while smoking a hookah, as he stares down on the decaying rooms which were once filled with joyful celebrations and overlooking the land which for years served his forefathers, but which is now mostly flooded, with backwater channels serving as access for small boats.


     The film begins with Roy hearing a melody, part of what he knows to be the Thread ceremony, celebrating the coming of age of a son. In this case the ceremony is being carried out in the nearby home of Mahim Ganguly (Gangapada Bose), a former loanshark who has made it well, and for years has attempted to get the attentions of the lordly Roy. Roy has been invited to the ceremony, as his servant Ananta (Kali Sarkar) reminds him, but he no longer leaves his large house. It is as if memories and time have frozen him into place. Ray uses the music, accordingly, to retrack prior events, demonstrating how Roy has reached this position. It is, of course, a kind of creaky device, employed in hundreds of grade B movies; but in this case, since Roy's major love is music, it works almost as a kind of Proustian trope, music opening up the story while presenting us with a brief history of traditional Indian musical works. One might almost quip that The Music Room is a sort of early variation of the Bollywood film, except that there is far less emphasis on Western traditions than there is on ancient Bengali music. Only the neighbor is fascinated with all things Western, while Roy is caught up, one might say, trapped, in the past.  


    But what a glorious past that was! The director shoots entire scenes of music performances, beginning with the Thread ceremony, this held for Roy's own music-loving son, Khoka (Pinaki Sen Gupta). The guests are mostly awed by the beauty of the music as they sit upon the carpets spread out throughout the lovely music room, topped with a swaying chandelier and filled with beautiful objects. Only Ganguly seems uncomfortable, envious perhaps, but also sweating his way through the performance as if his discomfort emanated from his inability to sit so long in languor. He is a man of the future, a man hardly able to pause in a world of rapid change.

     Roy's son is also learning to sing, and his lovely performance, eventually interrupted by the slightly petulant mother (Padma Devi), is one of the most endearing moments of the film. We soon discover that she has every right for her peevishness. Little by little, her husband has sold most the home's belongings, and for payment of the initiation ceremony, he has pawned her jewels. Soon after, she determines to visit her aging father, taking Khoka with her, leaving Roy, somewhat fearfully, by himself.

     Another kind of noise is heard in the distance, a kind of rhythmic beating that one might almost call music (certainly Cage might have described it as such). When Roy asks his servant about it he is told that it is the generator atop his neighbor's house, and from that instant on, except for the moments of musical performances, we hear the generator pumping away in the distance, a symbol of the end of a quiet and placid world in a time of movement and dust, as new goods are transported to the neighbor's house along a dirt road.

      Goaded on by Ganguly's celebrations, Roy suddenly determines to hold another musical salon, using a final bag of jewels for payment and calling for the return of his wife and son. As the event begins, a huge storm has arisen, and Ray symbolizes his character's growing obsessions and the possibilities of fate by focusing on a small paper boat that has been blown over in the wind, a spider trapped behind glass. As the concert begins Roy's family has not yet returned and, growing impatient, he searches out his servants for news of their arrival. The boat has been caught in a whirlwind, and his wife has been lost at sea, his son drowned.

     We now comprehend the indolent man sitting atop his roof, looking with despair upon the world around him. He has, seemingly, lost everything. His world is over. The music room has been closed.

     Yet he does still have his title, the respect of the locals, the memories of his former grandeur. When Ganguly again visits him to invite him to a musical event with the great dancer Roshan Kumari and singer Begum Akhter, Roy again declines. "I will not leave my house," he declares.

      Roy, however, is still a proud and foolish man, and determines with his last small bag of coins to hire the two performers for his own final celebration.


   Again, the music room is opened, the light lit, the rugs put to floor, the wine poured into glasses. This performance is perhaps one of the finest traditional Indian dance and song ever filmed. It alone is worth watching all that has proceeded. The event is a great success, and when Ganguly offers to pay Roy prevents him, throwing his last coins at the feet of the performers. We recognize his life has psychologically come to an end.

     We hardly need the rest of Ray's story, wherein, after the candles have been extinguished one by one, Roy takes to his horse, madly speeding away across what is left of his once rich fields. Suddenly the great Zamindar is thrown from the beast, his frightened servants rushing to his side to tearfully embrace this once great man.

     We recognize, however, that that "greatness" is a double-loaded word. Throughout Ray makes certain that we comprehend the immense self-serving pride and foolishness of Biswanbhar Roy, that he is a self-enchanted poobah of his own making. He could not possibly have shifted from his feudal concepts into the 20th century India that was at the edge of a great transformation. Roy's greatness, perhaps, lies primarily in his love of art, not his abilities to live and work with his fellow man. His was an esthetic reality, not the practical reality of day to day life, and in that fact, he was more a servant to his society and its circumstance than were those who worked upon his land.

 

Los Angeles, November 28, 2011

Reprinted from International Cinema Review (November 2011).

Index R-Z

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