Thursday, March 20, 2025

Asher Jelinsky | Miller & Son / 2019

what’s in a name?

by Douglas Messerli

 

Asher Jelinsky (screenwriter, based on a story by Jelinksy and Taylor Townsend, and director) Miller & Son / 2019 [21 minutes]

 

One of the most assured and understated of transexual films ever made, US director Asher Jelinsky’s 2019 film features a young boy working every day with his father as a mechanic. He’s a wizard regarding everything about cars. In his hands destitute old autos turn into wonderfully beautiful machines again, cars that won’t start, reignite like magic given his skills. His father (Ryan Cutrona) is close to him, in fact quite dependent on his son for his business. Even when his father’s computer acts up, Ryan (Jesse James Keitel) easily solves the problem.


      But by night, at a local club, Ryan becomes someone else, a woman in high heels, dress, and earrings who is trying to come to terms with his/her real identity, a dancer who hangs out with transsexual women and who, cornered in an alley, together scare off the drunken homophobes they encounter. The only problem is that one of the drunken figures in the group is Grant (Travis Hammer), a co-worker in his father’s garage. 


     Ryan scurries back to his car, reappearing as the handsome young man he appears to be each day in his father’s garage. But this time, it’s different. Travis clearly is ready to share his homophobic outrage with Ryan’s father, and finally after a long day in which Ryan brings several cars back into service, he does so.

    The final last long scene, in which the father finally fires Grant, consists of a long remove from his son, who tries to make clear that he loves his father before he blandly attempts to escape him with a simple statement: “I’ll see you tomorrow.

     After a long pause and a lot of internet research, his father finally is able to return a quiet message of acceptance as his own return, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” the camera panning back to show the name of the company in which he works: “Miller & Son.”


     Their worlds may be absolutely opposed, but their dependence upon each other and their deep love rules the cruel world of bigots. In this case if you have to ask what’s in a name, it is everything.

      This lovely short film, was the winner of several awards and a popular film in gay film circuit.

 

Los Angeles, March 20, 2025 | Reprinted from My Queer Cinema Blog (March 2025).

Harun Baysan | Akif / 2018

required identity

by Douglas Messerli

 

Harun Baysan and Çetin Kurt (screenplay), Harun Baysan (director) Akif / 2018 [30 minutes]

 

It’s somewhat difficult to know how to feel about Turkish director Harun Baysan’s 30-minute film Akif since the film’s central character, Akif is a slightly homophobic draft dodger who wants to use the possibility of being gay as a way to escape the military.

     Akif (Bekir Behrem) certainly has good reason. His father (Yusuf Eksi) is seriously ill and has no one else to care for him, being unable to even eat without the careful ministrations of his only child. In fact, Akif has previously saved up to join the military—soldiers in the Turkish military, at least at the time of this film, must serve six months without pay.


     The culture, moreover, which does allow gay men to serve in the military (just as was long true of the US and numerous other countries’ militia), encourages men who will not or cannot serve to seek the escape of being gay. But what that entails, the creation of a stereotypical view of LGBTQ people, is even more terrifying. As the true hero of this work, Ugur (Uzay Gökhan Irmak) explains to Akif, in order to prove one’s own sexual orientation one has to create a notion of homosexuality that has little to do with the reality. And once he has been declared gay many job opportunities are lost and the people at large are likely to despise him, as we have already heard a grocer speaking to a customer of Ugar. Ugur was a school teacher without a job.

      It is to Ugur that Akif turns to help him in what is basically a “gay makeover.” But, in this case, Ugur—who identifies as a gay man, but might be described in his manner of dress and behavior as a transsexual—demands that Akif first learn everything he can about gay culture, assigning him basic gay texts such as the works of Oscar Wilde and E. M. Forster’s Maurice and requiring him to watch a number of openly gay movies.


     But in Akif’s world even being seen publicly with Ugur is dangerous, and in his attempts to buy the underground tapes, he is discouraged by the seller, forcing him to explain that he is buying them for a brother attending the university, yet another ironic level of this hostile cultural milieu in which men like Ugur must live.

     After reading and watching to assimilate some basics, Ugar insists that Akif apply lipstick and makeup and put on heels (that look a bit like Dorothy’s ruby slippers in The Wizard of Oz) to help him learn to walk more effeminately, a requirement if he is to behave as authorities expect him to as a gay man. One scene of the straight Akif putting on lipstick and eyeliner is so sad that it almost brings tears to one’s eyes. Even if he were a macho S&M gay man, it is a requirement to prove one’s homosexuality.

     We see the faithful son alternating between becoming someone else, a man that even he soon won’t be able to identify. The final catch is that there must be a picture, with his face fully visible, of him engaged in homosexual sex. It’s no longer legally required, but the military boards still demands it as proof nonetheless.

     It is at this point that the mild and passive Akif finally balks, demonstrating his own heteronormative cultural assimilation, insisting that Ugar’s entire efforts have been aimed at getting him to have sex, and, in the very worst of assaults, insisting that Ugar is after all still just a faggot!

      Ugar spits in his face, orders him out of the house, and demands that Akif never return.

     The very next day, Akif is fired from his job, his boss having been contacted reporting that Akif is a draft dodger, which no business is allowed to keep on their payroll.

      With no way out, Akif returns to Ugar and goes through the “ordeal,” spitting out the semen and almost vomiting much in the manner of Fergus in Neil Jordan’s The Crying Game (1992) upon discovering that his lover is actually a transgender male.

      Ugar himself sits waiting for the ordeal to end, also in tears.

      Yet Ugar’s lessons and, evidently, the photo succeed. Akif is declared unfit for military duty, which probably will also make him now even more unhireable and a general outcast in his society.

He and Ugar hug.



     The young now suddenly “approved” gay man returns home to attend to his father, only to discover him dead. On the television, the reporter describes how a military unit has saved a portion of the country from terrorists without violence, those saved singing out their ululations for their heroes.

      The mixed feelings I have about this film must certainly emanate in part from my own experience of being called up for military service for the Vietnam War in 1970. Howard and I were already a couple, and even as a gay man I was terrified that I might not be able to convince them that I was gay, an “out” provided by the misconceptions of US culture that LGBTQ men and women were undesirable because they were simply less capable and were subject to blackmail—the deep irony of which was that only in a closed, unaccepting culture which their attitude helped shape, might one have to worry about being blackmailed for being gay. I must have fit all the psychologist’s preconceptions of what a gay might be, for upon reporting that I was gay, he handed a 4F rating, declaring me unfit for military duty. I was relieved, but angry at the same time that those gay men and women who might have wanted to serve might also be declared unfit just because of their sexuality. I felt my sexuality had saved my life, but at the same time it had declared me unable to fully participate in the culture.

     Akif, knowing now that he is a marked man, begins to laugh before falling into tears. I might have begun to cry before, realizing the irony of the situation, but, instead, I began to laugh. I felt freed; whereas Akif knows that he is now imprisoned in an identity that has nothing to do with him. Of course, so was I.

 

Los Angeles, June 13, 2024

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (June 2024).

I

Virgile Ratelle | Dog Breath / 2019

cocaine fucks

by Douglas Messerli

 

Virgile Ratelle (screenwriter and director) Dog Breath / 2019 [13 minutes]

 

How do you describe such a movie as French Canadian director Virgile Ratelle’s Dog Breath: a drug film, a rape flick, a story about an addiction to both drugs and sex that has gone beyond logic?

It is actually all of these.

    In three short segments it shows us a passive young man, Alex (Fabien Corbeil), who is followed into a bar by Sam, (Samuel Vollering) both of whom head straight to the bathroom, snort coke and fuck. In the second segment their return to what presumably is a shared house, whose bedroom is constantly busy with occupants, both gay and straight, fucking. This time, with the help of Dave (Jean-François Gagné), they heat up the crack, again go into a kind of euphoric world of dazed behavior and fuck, Dave looking on in masturbatory desire.




     In the final scene the Alpha male (Nicolas Gravel), presumably straight is seen with two other macho cohorts, who brags about having fucked a lesbian and then proceeds the wrestle with another individual whom he describes as a fag (Timmy Haineault).

     In a final snort of coke, Alex falls into a complete coma, the heterosexual braggart picking up his body with the help of another, putting him on the bed, and raping him.


     It’s difficult to glean what message this short film is attempting to convey. Addiction makes you lose of sense of reality? I’m sure it does. Sex is better with coke? Surely not if you’re not even conscious, a condition in which the passive Alex is throughout most of movie. Is this a warning against addiction? I doubt it since the film seems to take almost a voyeuristic pleasure in watching Alex get fucked.

     I can only suggest this is a bit like a snuff film since we do even know at the end whether Alex is still living.

     I certainly can’t recommend this short film to anyone interested in the experience of gay life. This is about addiction and death. I write about this film only as an example of the extremes of the medium. It bears comparison to Paul Morrissey’s 1982 film Forty Deuce.

 

Los Angeles, March 20, 2025

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema (March 2025).

Wednesday, March 19, 2025

Jen McGowan | On the Ride / 2020

the heart of the matter

by Douglas Messerli

 

Jeremy Glazer (screenplay), Jen McGowan (director) On the Ride / 2020 [14 minutes]

 

This lovely short is a real tearjerker that takes the viewer on a ride at the very moment when a survivor of a gay marriage, Scott Long (Jeremy Glazer) goes on a morning bicycle trip after his husband has died of some unnamed disease.

    In his back pack is a letter which he intends to mail, but he finds, as in 2020 we all discovered, the mailbox closed. In his mind, filled with flashbacks of his husband’s illness and death, he loses his focus and narrowly misses an accident with a car in the Los Angeles roads in which he’s riding. He ends up by the side of the road, finally realizing that it is time to take the next step, to visit the family to which has been writing to him, the son Roshawn (Spence Moore II) having received his lover’s heart as a saving live-saving transplant.

 


    The mother, played quite remarkably by Deidre Gilbert, openly greets him into her home, as he finally meets the young black man who has received his husband Todd’s heart. In a remarkable sequence the young man, who now wants to become a doctor, allows Scott to actually listen to the beating heart he has inherited.

    The mother drives the bicyclist home, welcoming him into her family and the noisy world of her son, while he returns home, alone, to celebrate Thanksgiving with alone, yet celebrating his lover who, he claims, endlessly talked.

    If this is not a particularly profound short film, it is certainly an eloquent one, a work which makes you realize the continuation of life is not necessarily spiritual, but a real possibility that exists in the possibilities of community, love, and memory.

 

Los Angeles, March 19, 2025

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (2025).

Maximilian Homaei | Kettle / 2014

religious hate

by Douglas Messerli

 

Maximilian Homaei and Shiyan Zheng (screenplay), Maximilian Homaei (director) Kettle / 2014 [38 minutes]

 

Two young gay boys, Kris (Christian Byers) and Andre (James Fraser) are in love, but they also attend a conservative and repressive Catholic school, Kris as well “blessed” with a cold and unfeeling mother (Kelly Butler) who worships the terrible wardens of her son’s sexual imprisonment. When he fights back against the bullies, it is he who gets suspended for a few days, not the others.


    At the same moment in his life, he is beginning to perceive a great many other things, as he goes in search of his missing father. For one thing his mother seems to be involved with one of his priestly teachers, Father Peter (Jai Koutrae), which perhaps explains why he is punished for the bullying of others. The mother is also opposed to him even having a friendship with Andre, who, after all, doesn’t attend church. He also tracks down his sister, Claudia (Lizzie Schebesta), who has long ago left the family, a woman who apparently works after the hours she works as a waitress as a stripper named Maggie Love in a local bar.

     Our young hero takes his friend to the bar in which she works, and after they play cards, the friend seemingly utterly enchanted with a new woman in his life, without recognizing that it is, in fact, his friend’s sister. We have entered new territory, perhaps a challenge to their gay relationship. But it is also an attempt to comprehend Kris’ own past and future.


     He asks her about his father, but her only answer seems to be, “You were too young Kris, and now it’s too late.” But who can he turn to? He cannot talk to his mother. He has only pictures.

     She insists that despite his other affairs, the father was still very much in love with their mother. But even more importantly, as she looks over at the sleeping and drunken Andre, she suggests to her brother “You should tell him.” Obviously, she is aware of his love for his friend.

     His mother is furious that he comes home the next day, and even more angry when he suggests that she still has a daughter, for which she roundly slaps him for even mentioning the fact. This is a woman who has carefully struggled not to care for anything outside her restricted religious beliefs.



     Once more, Father Peter, the handsome man with a hairbun, reminds him of his responsibilities, and the fact that he has suspended the boy to reflect on his actions. But this time, finally Kris, stands up to the world of genuflection, admitting that he has indeed reflected on his actions. “I know why you’re here,” he adds, “you gonna tell me that my father didn’t love me?”  Finally, he speaks out that he no longer cares what the priest has to say, that he doesn’t have to listen to him anymore. The only answer this hateful priest can provide is that his sister will also betray him.

     This is a sour world in which a young 17-year-old boy in Catholic school has to accept or himself be punished. A kiss from Andre results in a slug. Something truly awful has happened. Even love has lost its potent meaning. He attempts to visit his sister, but his kept out by her boyfriend. He screams out to him without her responding; she has in fact left her own brother to the wolves.

     For his punishment, the priest and his mother oversee his conversation therapy, watching a movie of two young gay lovers while they pour a kettle of hot water, as he is locked into a chair, upon his penis.


     Oddly, or perhaps I should say predictably, a number of commentators came out of the Catholic Church benches to proclaim on IMDb this film as a hateful protestation of their beliefs. This could not happen in our church they all proclaimed. Perhaps in other religions such as Islamic and Judaic traditions, but not ours! But of course, we know even worse sins were committed in the name of the Catholic Church, young boys killed, young girls sent into relationships with older men, and young and older priests preying on young boys of all ages. Indigenous people, poor children, and children born out of wedlock were punished for their non-existent “sins.” Religions of all kind have destroyed more people for being something “other” than almost any other force on earth. The “kettle” here is a symbol of the pure hypocrisy not only of Catholicism but of all fervent believers who can’t permit anything outside of their narrow purviews. The wonderful Norwegian writer, Jens Bjørneboe spent much of his life revealing the dangers of religious and socially narrow views. But again and again religious fundamentalists of all sorts go blithely forward destroying other’s lives.

 

Los Angeles, March 19, 2025

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (March 2025)

     

Gwen Wynne | Wild About Harry (aka American Primitive) / 2009

the unspoken truth

by Douglas Messerli   

 

Mary Beth Fielder and Gwen Wynne (screenplay), Gwen Wynne (director) Wild About Harry (aka American Primitive) / 2009

 

Early in this movie Harry Goodhart (Tate Donovan) tells his daughter Madeline (Danielle Sayre) to keep to her dead mother’s ideals, “Stand up for who you are and what you believe in.” It takes an entire movie for this coddled Cape Codder to even comprehend the message her father is sending her. All right, it’s 1973 and gay rights, despite the Stonewall Inn battles, were only just trickling out to the suburbs. But really Howard and I easily had come out to all of our friends three years previous to this cinematic feature as a couple on the University of Wisconsin—Madison campus. I admit that it was a very liberal world, and we were blessed with open-minded friends, but even the reviews seem to accept the idea that 1973 was still a closed-off world in which no gay need even imagine peer acceptance.


     This is yet another hysterical gay movie, that may have been based on true experiences, but only reveals, once more, the continued terror of the gay experience that seemed to cluster around films in what one might have imagined was a far more open-minded era of the new century, 2009.

     If his groovy, slightly hippie-dressed daughters don’t quite immediately fit into the more Cape Codder’s conservative decorum, they nonetheless soon make friends, and a handsome new man on the island delights the neighborhood ladies, married and widowed.


     At least his younger daughter, Daisy (Skye McCole Bartusiak) is a blessed with a much wilder imagination, constantly interrupting her elder sister’s attempts at accommodation. But, of course,

she doesn’t quite succeed, particularly when Maddy meets the lovely school jock Sam (Corey Sevier), with whom she almost immediately falls in love and impresses with her tennis skills. Enter clumsily, stage left, Josh Peck (Spoke White), a scruffy boy who truly falls in love with Maddy at first sight.

     Madeline becomes a full star tennis player, and Sam Brown’s mother almost admits to Daisy that she’s fallen in love with her father on first sight, in his bathrobe in his front-yard antics of

trying to deliver breakfast to his two bus-bound daughters. Sam’s mother eagerly engages the two daughters, by driving them home so, of course, she can further meet their attractive father. But at that very moment, Harry has posted a new sign, which gives alert to his real “interests,” and most particularly to his new partner, Gibbs & Goodhart, and their new business relationship of which his daughters had absolutely no warning, another eligible bachelor as Mrs. Brown (Anne Tamsay) perceives him to be, a perfect reason to stop by and see their “American Primitives.”  


    Suddenly his daughters are introduced to Mr. Gibbs, Theo (Adam Pascal), as even Martha describes him “the other half.” What none of them seem to be able to perceive is that he is in fact Harry’s lover, who even entertains, since he is a lovely piano player, the entire community with the song “I’m Just Wild About Harry” which is not simply played out in the song’s lyrics but his actual love of Harry Goodhart, Maddy’s father.

    Soon, tagging along with the “in” crowd, Maddy joins her friends at a local Provincetown bar, where she proclaims in the obnoxious youthful innocent of her prejudice that “I’ve never seen a real queer before!” only to discover her father and Theo dancing together at the same bar.


     So begins a spin into an hysterical homophobic world that changes all their lives.

     Maddy, believing it’s just a deviation of his true existence, works hard to throw her dad into the arms of the local women, including Mrs. Brown, meanwhile imagining that she has a real relationship with her son Sam, to whom she confides her fears. But Sam is not at all trustworthy, and word soon spreads throughout the community, with homophobic taunts, and, even worse, the arrival of the highly conservative parents of Harry’s ex-wife, determined to rescue their granddaughters from the life of the debauched gay couple.

    Finally, Maddy is left alone, without seemingly anyone to even take her to the homecoming dance until the loner Josh returns into her life, admitting that he has known about her father from the first moment, and finally making it clear to her that all her desperate troubles, her true hysteria, doesn’t at all matter. He wants to take her out, and that is what matters more than anything in her delimited imagination.

    Finally even the in-laws perceive that Harry and Theo are raising up the girls quite wonderfully. Case closed.


    No, Theo realizes that perhaps they should not be living together, after all it is 1973, and things can still happen, just at the moment when the in-laws reappear and find Harry and Theo engaged in a deep kiss. The in-laws are determined that Madeline and Daisy will now live with them. “The Lord does not allow homosexuals to raise children,” proclaims the father-in-law, reiterating every stupid Christian moralist on the planet. Martha and he are about to take the daughters away from the healthy relationship Harry and Theo have created for their children for absolutely no reason other than they are a homosexual couple.

     Harry brings his daughters together for their sudden exit from their lives, “You’ll spend a few nights with your grandparents, and we’ll work something out.”

      Jason knocks on the door; it is the night of the homecoming party, but, of course, Madeline is not able to make it, as Harry announces. Everything has changed—this being a hysterical movie that cannot possibly imagine that even in 1973 things had altered in another way than the direction this film seems to be heading. You truly want, at this point, to enter the film, and like Cher in Moonstruck (1987) slap their faces and demand they wake up. The passivity of gay men suddenly becomes transparent. They are giving up their entire reality to bigots.

      I wonder, given our own rather wonderful experiences at the same moment whether this was what reality was all about. I cry imagining that it probably was for older gay men in the real world from which Howard and I were so immune. The door closes on Jason, the gentle man who might have been the perfect mate for the confused Madeline. Everything seems to have fallen apart.

     The girls are told that neither of them are to go to their father’s house unless accompanied by their grandparents, and their whispers make clear they are going to file for custody.

     The girls are trying to figure out the conundrum of their father’s sexual shift. Was he always that way, even with their mom? What happened to him to make him so different? But within their proper Cape Cod dinner experience, Maddy again encounters Jason, this time as a restaurant busboy, the young man who brings in the clams for their dinner delight, explaining that “I came to take you out, at your house but you weren’t there,” she admitting that her grandparents took her away from her father.

       Jason tells of his own dilemma, when his brother Paul, constantly in fight with his father, joined the marines, his father describing him as “a selfish jerk.” That was the last time he saw him, the brother having died a couple of years later in Viet Nam. He regrets that he could not comprehend his own brother as family, a fact he only realized in his own elder brother’s death.

      Family, I would argue is a dangerous and tribalistic force, but in this case it helps. “Your family is your family, no matter what. Your dad’s a part of your deal.” Bluntly he explains why she shouldn’t have abandoned what was truly a fully-working family, even if it didn’t fit normative expectations. This rough young man wants to be a part of her “deal” also, expressing a love so much deeper than any young Sam Brown might have ever imagined what love is about.


     Madeline almost immediately after pulls her sister away from the table where her grandparents sit and rejoins their father, this time as a force against any further ado. “We want to stay with you and Mr. Gibbs,” she proclaims. It’s not quite that simple, answers their delighted but confused father. Harry describes his true love of Madeline’s mother, Daisy entering, the poet to say, “Two eternal flames burn in his heart at the same time,” finally relieving her sister’s impossible comprehension of how two very different loves might be possible.

     But the delightful Mr. Gibbs is now moving out, the girls disconsolate for his decision. After all, he was an excellent cook, a loving force, himself a good father to them. He admits he’s trying to find a way for Daisy and Madeline to stay with their father. But Madeline finally admits that he shouldn’t go, that he is very important to her father. “You’re part of the deal,” she quotes Jason’s comments, and in so doing ending the hysteria transforming it into a family situational comedy.

     They unload his baggage, and bring him back into the new family they have now discovered.

     The grandparents return, of course, to reclaim their luggage. They insist that Madeline and Daisy must come with them, but this time, finally, Harry speaks out: “I hate to contradict you, but I’m afraid they don’t” They like Mr. Gibbs. But the traditional heteronormative grandparents finally put it out on the table, “It’s a question of decency, it’s a question of morality.” Suddenly Madeline reveals that when her mother was in the hospital, she asked her “Never let her father grow old alone. And I never knew what she meant. But now I do.”

     That complete transformation of comprehension makes it clear that suddenly this young, quite confused girl, has grown up into a mature woman of utter comprehension overnight. Her grandparents have lost their conservative power. They no longer have a role in either of the granddaughters’ lives. There is nothing more to be said. They too are now wild about Harry—and Theo.

 

Los Angeles, March 18, 2025

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (March 2025).

        

Index R-Z

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