Two Steps Forward?

I've been mulling over my reaction to the death of Heath Ledger, and reading the heart-felt responses from many in my blog family. Brokeback Mountain obviously struck a deep chord with a lot of people, as it did with me. In one of my earliest posts, written just after seeing the movie, I talked about how connected I felt culturally to this particular story in ways that didn't make sense. I had privileges Ennis never dreamed of, yet I still see how easy it would have been for me to become him. For an interesting interview with Ledger on his experience working on the film, go here. The skill and emotional insight Ledger and Ang Lee brought to this character created a resonant performance, one that deserves all the accolades and awards it received. I think it may go down in history as one of the great film portrayals. I was inspired in deep ways by the beauty and commitment of Ledger's work, and it's obvious I was not alone.

Ledger -and in fact, Gyllenhaal as well- impressed me in another way. As is still the case whenever a straight man plays a gay role, members of the press, particularly the gay press, often feel compelled to ask if the decision to take the role was 'scary'. It's not uncommon for there to be a fair amount of thanks given for an actor's willingness to play gay, like he is doing us some kind of favor. Read Ledger's response to a variation on this question in one interview (see above link).

Question: Who was the biggest supporter and biggest detractor in you playing this role in regards to the gay aspects?

Heath Ledger: No one was trying to detract me from it. Everyone was very supportive of it. I understand everyone else or people found it risky. I hate to call it "daring" or "brave"; firefighters are daring and brave. I'm acting. I didn't get hurt and I'm not mentally wounded from this experience.

I love him for this response, and I love what it tells us about the present landscape in Hollywood. I am even more encouraged by comments he makes later in the same interview.

Question: Why did you take the role when others in the past had said no?

Heath Ledger: It was a beautiful story. It was a story that hadn't made it on the screen; which is rare to come upon a script so beautifully well written and hadn't been told before. It was very exciting to tell a new story. Ang lee is attached to it. I don't think I would have done it if it were in anyone else's hands. He was the perfect director for it and that's really [it]. I looked at it as a wonderful opportunity to get in the head of this character. I never saw it as a huge risk that everyone else was seeing. It's all relative to the person you are and how relaxed you are with people and the people around you. I was very happy to tell a story that hadn't been told and I thought it should have been told.

This response reveals to me both a sensitive artist and an astute businessman. He recognized the challenges of the role -playing gay was not one of them- and saw the potential for a rewarding project and improved career. No one can know in advance if a film is going to be a critical or popular success, but part of being a successful actor is learning how to pick projects wisely, to weigh the potential risks and benefits, and to strike a balance between personal challenge and box office success. It seems to me that Ledger recognized the benefits far out-weighed the risks, especially for him.

It's easy to forget now, but before 2005 (when Brokeback came out), Ledger's career appeared to be on a downward spiral. After making a big splash with his Hollywood debut, being identified as a hot up-and-coming actor, Ledger had four commercial and critical flops in a row, and in Hollywood that is often the kiss of death. At this point he was in the papers more often for his high profile romance with Naomi Watts than he was for his work. People were already looking at him as one of those 'where are they now' stories. His response to this career crisis was that of a talented artist (as opposed to determined star); he looked around for projects that would, yes, improve his professional standing, but do so by connecting him with artists he admired (he wouldn't have taken the role without Ang Lee, remember), in challenging, well-written material, and as he says, a story "that hadn't been told before."

Don't misunderstand me. I am not discounting Ledger's achievement in this role. I applaud Ledger for insightful, detailed, captivating work with a character who was as different from him as he could be, but was also a difficult person to portray on film. Lee told him the thing to keep in mind in portraying Ennis was 'stillness'; between the two of them, they did just that, and it worked brilliantly. Ennis' clenched jaw, physical awkwardness, and flattened speech showed us a man at war with his feelings, the demands of his culture, even his own body. Ledger deserves all the praise he received for this work, and more. I simply want to counter-act the idea that he took a huge gamble to play gay, or did so as a favor to us. To his credit, he never made any such claim, in fact he denied such claims when others suggested them. There was a time when playing gay could seriously damage a career even for a straight man, but Ledger, perhaps in part by looking at the list of actors who had done so with great success before him (a partial list, off the top of my head: Tom Hanks, Antonio Banderas, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Justin Kirk, Campbell Scott, Dermot Mulroney, Daniel Futterman, Daniel Day Lewis, Ewan MacGregor, Christian Bale, Jude Law, Matt Damon) realized that risk was now pretty minimal. He saw an incredible opportunity, and he leapt at it.

Then of course, I began to hear the ugliness -John Gibson's reprehensible response, Fred Phelps desire to picket Ledger's funeral- and I thought, maybe I was dismissing the risks of playing gay too quickly. Further examination though leads me to believe I am not. Yes, horrible things are being said in response to his death, making it clear (surprise!) homophobia is alive and well. More than one whack-job is suggesting Ledger's death is God's punishment for his involvement with Brokeback Mountain. Gibson may have been ridiculing him as a 'weirdo' with a 'drug problem', but his exclusive use of Brokeback Mountain quotations tells us what really bothered him.

The fact is though, this stuff came out in the open again only because of Ledger's death. It wasn't stopping him from working while he was still alive. His career was not damaged by Brokeback, in fact it was significantly improved by it. He had gained A-list status in Hollywood and remember, and this was not a status he had ever had before. I honor Ledger for his work on this role, and for the respect he gave to Ennis and the film as a whole, and I honor him even more for his clear-sightedness on how little a gay role threatened his career. Neither he nor Gyllenhaal were the first actors approached for these roles; men with bigger names were approached first, and all of them passed. I hope at least some of those actors are now realizing what an opportunity they missed, and that their fears were unfounded, or at least archaic. And those folks spouting such poison about this man's death and his career choices, I think that's just further evidence that this film struck a nerve. If I had been involved, I would be taking almost as much pride in the viciousness, as I would in all the accolades.

I could easily start writing more about related issues (gay actors being cast in gay roles, gay actors being cast in straight roles, lesbians getting cast at all), but those seem topics for another time. Ultimately I just want to acknowledge that I am greatly saddened by Ledger's death, not only because I find it horrible when anyone fails to make it past thirty, but also because he was clearly a great artist whose best work, I can only assume, was still ahead of him. I am sorry for the grief his loved ones are now experiencing, and I regret the work that we will never see now. Most of all, I am grateful to him for the gift he gave us in Ennis Del Mar, and for making it clear that playing gay was a risk only if he let it be.

Favorite Books:"The Tempered Blade in the Fantastic Silken Sheath"

Just to warn you: this is a long entry. A looooong entry. I do go on. I'm not sure why I wanted to write out what is essentially a book report, but it's been sitting with me for a few weeks, and wouldn't go away. Don't feel like you have to read it, I won't be offended. Come back when I'm babbling more succinctly about something else.

Rosemary Sutcliff is a children’s writer who had a significant influence on me as a kid. I don’t know if she’s now better known on this side of the pond, but the only reason I discovered her books was because we spent a year in London when I was ten. She introduced me to the Irish epic, Cuchulain and the heros of the Red Branch, and to the folk tales of Finn MacCool and the Fianna. She also wrote historical novels about Roman Britain. Many of them won literary awards and big kudos from historians for their detailed and uncannily accurate portraits of the time period. Sutcliff’s portrait of the Celtic world and it inhabitants definitely shaped mine. She was the first to admit that if the choice lay between telling a good story or being historically accurate, she would choose the story every time, so there is no doubt her characters (and thus my image) are at times romanticized. Other influences have interceded over the years, along with more rigorously historical reading and a fair amount of time in Ireland, but Sutcliff’s (with a little help from Yeats) passionate, mystic warrior/poet still lives at the root of my imagination.

When I went back to her books as an adult though, I began to wonder if she had influenced my imagination in other, more surprising ways. Her books stand up to adult scrutiny well; things are never sugar-coated though at times they may be left out. The characters are finely drawn, the stories exciting and well-told, and she’s unafraid to delve into difficult, even tragic terrain. Because so many of her characters are soldiers, warriors or gladiators, there is a lot of fighting, but also a lot of male bonding. Often the significant relationship in the story is between two men. When she’s retelling epics or traditional stories, this could easily be explained as her remaining true to the originals. Cuchulain really does love Ferdia, which is why their battle to the death is so horrifying. Many epics and traditional stories are full of what one of my Shakespeare teachers called “the passionate male friendship.” Arthur and Lancelot, Romeo and Mercutio, Frodo and Sam, if we want another example of a modern spin on the tradition, great love is expressed between these pairs without shame or embarrassment, because, well, there is nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. Their cultures had a place for these passionate yet sexless bonds.

But... then I looked at one of her books more closely. The Mark of the Horse Lord may be my favorite of all her books (though I recently discovered that there are probably about thirty more than I knew about; I’m very excited). The premise is this; Phaedrus is a half-Celt, half-Greek gladiator who manages to win his freedom at the beginning of the book. He meets a Celtic Prince, Midir, whom he resembles to a startling degree, and for reasons I won’t go into here, agrees to impersonate him, claim Midir’s throne, and depose his usurping aunt. Basically the Prince and the Pauper story, in other words, though Sutcliff manages to make it more plausible. The connection between the two men is passionate, confusing and important to them both, but clearly not romantic or sexual.

Naturally to be able to impersonate him, Phadreus has to learn everything about Midir, so they hole up for a month so Midir can tell his entire history, complete with detailed descriptions of all the people in his life. Midir is quizzing Phadreus at one point:

“‘Conory?’ said Midir’s voice behind him.

‘Conory was –is my cousin, born in the same summer to Iorwen, my father’s younger sister. I know him by his one eye set higher than the other, and a brown fleck in the apple of it.’ There were other things he knew about Conory, a great many other things, including some that Midir had never told him. But he did not recite them now. They had had to be learned, but though the arena years had hardened him to most things, he still disliked trampling more often than need be in another man’s private territory.” (p. 41)

Homosayswhatnow?

Okay, sure there’s no reason to assume the big unspoken secret between Conory and Midir is sexual in nature. Maybe they murdered a man together, were never caught, and now are the only ones who know the truth. Maybe one of them offended taboo in some way, and the other covered it up.

But come on. I mean, really.

I read this when I was ten, did I mention that? Sure the whole thing probably went over my head at the time, but, like, wow.

But wait, it gets better. You haven’t met Conory yet.

“And then behind the rest, with some kind of great fur collar round his neck, he saw a man holding back, taking his time, watching him out of eyes that seemed, even in the gloom beyond the torchlight, to be oddly set— one a little higher than the other...

Their gaze met, and Phaedrus saw in that intant that the fur collar had eyes too. A striped-grey-and-dark thing with eyes like green moons. The young man made a sound to it, and the thing rippled and arched itself into swift, sinuous life, became a wildcat, poised and swaying for an instant on his shoulder and leapt lightly to the floor, and advanced beside him with proudly upreared tail, as he came forward to take his place among the rest.

For an instant, as they came face to face, and the wildcat crouched at his foot, Phaedrus thought that this could not, after all, be the cousin born in the same summer, who had helped Midir to wash the blood from his back after that long-ago beating. Not this wasp-wasted creature with hair bleached to the silken paleness of ripe barley, who wore a wildcat for a collar, and went prinked out like a dancing-girl with crystal drops in his ears and his slender wrists chiming with bracelets of beads strung on gold wires! But one of the man’s eyes was certainly set higher than the other; and on the bright hazel iris was a brown fleck the shape of an arrow-head.

For a long moment they stood confronting each other, and Phaedrus knew that this was indeed the danger moment. He saw a flicker of doubt in the odd-set eyes, quickly veiled and something tensed in his stomach, waiting for what would happen next, while the men around him looked on.

The young man said, ‘Midir.’ Just the one word, and his hands came out. Phaedrus, with an unpleasant consciousness of the wildcat crouched with laid-back ears on the floor, followed his lead so instantly that the onlookers could scarcely have said which made the first move. But next instant their arms were round each other in a quick, hard embrace that looked like the reunion of long-parted brothers, but had actually nothing in it but a kind of testing, an enquiry, like the first grip of a wrestling-bout... ‘Conory— you have changed!’ It was the only thing that Phaedrus could think of to say, and it seemed safe.

‘Have I?’ Conory said. ‘So have you, Midir. So—have—you,’ and the doubt was still in his eyes; indeed, it had strengthened, Phaedrus thought, but it would not be there for anyone but himself to see. At any rate — not yet. What game was he playing? Or was he playing any game at all? Had he, Phaedrus, only imagined that flicker of doubt? It was gone now. Unless it was only veiled once more...

With Conory’s grip on his shoulders, he discovered that there was more strength in those slender wrists than anyone could have expected. He made another discovery, too. He did not know, looking into those oddly set eyes that were so silkily bright, whether he and Conory were going to be heart-friends or the bitterest of enemies, but he knew that it must be one or the other; something between them was too strong to end in mere indifference.” (pp. 64-65)

Good stuff, no? Let me share another view of Conory from another member of his tribe.

“Phaedrus took the mead-horn, grinning... ‘I was taking a look at (Conory).’

And an older man leaned across to him from the other side. ‘A good long look, then. Aye well, he’s worth looking at, and he knows it,’ he snorted, but there was a hint of admiration in the snort. ‘Ever since he came to manhood he’s been one that the women watch— aye, and men too, and there’s times I think he makes a sport of seeing just how far he can go. He only has to come out one day with his cloak caught in a particular fold, or a woman’s ear-ring in one ear, and the next day half the young braves of the tribe are doing the same. If he cut off a finger-tip tonight, the other half would lack a finger-tip tomorrow. Fools!” (p. 71)

There’s more, but I'll stop there. Oh, don’t get too excited; it is a children’s book, this is as explicit as anything gets. And again, this innuendo about Conory and his relationship with Midir doesn’t have to be sexual... but I repeat, come on.

The Celts, like lots of ancient cultures, were pretty relaxed about sexuality; bisexuality was probably the norm in more places than not. People like Conory would have existed, it's just surprising to find one in a children's book published in 1965. I can’t help but wonder how it got through editing. I wish I could write her a letter to ask how conscious Sutcliff was of this possible interpretation, but she died in 1992.

After rediscovering Conory though, I realized that while he may be the first, he wasn’t the only figure of this kind I read about as a kid. Sutcliff's subject matter and writing style proved to be a great introduction to the books of Mary Renault. Perhaps more than any other writer, Renault shaped my earliest dreams of what love between men could be. At her best, her writing is compelling, layered, witty, wise yet forgiving of human nature. I have talked about another her books before, and may talk about others later, but after rereading Horse Lord, I specifically sought outThe King Must Die. I remembered meeting another Conory, several in fact, here too.

This book is a marvelous retelling of the Theseus myth, specifically his time in the Labyrinth of Crete. Making use of what was then recent archeological discoveries (Knossos, and the labyrinth, had just been discovered), Renault pictured the Athenian tribute as dancers in the sacred bull dance. Theseus and the other Athenians have just been brought to the practice court of the bull dancers, where they meet the de facto leader. (Theseus is talking.)

“He was slight, smaller than I... he stood poised on the balls of his feet, like a dancer, then took a step back and looked us over. I had never seen such a youth as this. At first sight he could have been a mountebank. But his heavy gold necklaces, his arm-rings of jeweler’s work, the gems on his glittering belt and loin-guard, were not gilded shams; he was wearing a princes’s ransom. His light-brown hair hung down in long curled tresses, groomed as sleek as a girl’s and his eyes ere painted. But with all this frippery, he was like a young panther, lean and spare and hard. A thick red scar, like a long burn, curved round the ribs on his right side... He raised his brows again, and then walked round us, staring at each in turn. Many had stared at us that day; but this one saw us. I felt as if a fine sharp blade pricked me over, searching for flaws.” (p. 241)

We learn that this fellow (simply called the Corinthian because he is the only still living) is a superstar, one of the best bull-leapers in the court, rivaling even the old legendary figures. Theseus finds out what this means the first time he’s allowed to witness the bull dance.

...[T]he Corinthian ran round [the bull] to face him, and held out both arms; the circling [of the other dancers] stopped.

He ran smoothly up to the sullen, bull. It was the leap I had seen often in the Bull court. But that was a shadow; now, he had a living things to dance with. He grasped the horns, and swung up between them, going with the bull; then he soared free. The beast was too stupid to back and wait for him. It trotted on, when it felt him gone. He turned in the air, a curve as lovely as a bent bow’s, and on the broad back his slim feet touched down together; then they sprang up again. He seemed not to leap, but to hang above the bull, like a dragonfly over the reeds, while it ran out from under him. Then he came down to earth, feet still together, and lightly touched the catcher’s hands with his, like a civility; he had no need of steadying.... I stretched in secret my right hand earthwards, and whispered under all the noise, ‘Father Poseidon! Make me a bull-leaper!’” (p. 244)

Unlike Sutcliff, Renault is writing for adults, so she is free to let us know some men sleep with men in this world. Men who never sleep with men are the odd-balls, as Theseus comes to learn. Everyone in the Bull Court dresses like the Corinthian too. Theseus is portrayed as a back country prince; sexist, homophobic (to use modern terms as short-hand) with a bit of Napoleonic complex, he has his eyes opened in many ways in Crete, including how he sees women and 'Nancy boys'(though remaining a ‘man for women’ all his life), and is soon just as bejeweled and coiffed as anyone else.

But the Corinthian isn’t the only figure of this kind in the book. As Theseus begins to plot the downfall of the royal house, he is soon allied with some nobles from the ancient (Minyan) houses. Alektryon is a member of the guard, and a formidable warrior. One night he has a message for Theseus.

“But the next night, after supper, I heard laughter at the doors of the Bull court, and the chink of gold. It is not cheap, to buy your way in there after dark. In came Alektryon, swift and glittering, his kilt stitched with plaques of pearl and his hair stuck with jasmine. He had a necklace of striped sardonyx, and a rolled kid belt covered with leaf gold. He strode among the dancers, flirting with this youth or that, talking of the odds, and the newest bull, like any young blood who follows the ring. But I saw his seeking eyes, and went toward him.

‘Theseus!’ he said, making eyes at me and tossing back his hair. ‘I vow you are of all men, the most fickle. You have forgotten my feast and eaten in the Bull Court! You have crystal for a heart. Well, I will forgive you still, if you come now for the music. But hurry; the wine is poured out already.’

I begged his pardon and said I would come. ‘The wine is poured’ was a signal agreed on between us, for something that could not wait.

We went out into the Great Court, which, since it was still early, was full of lamplight, and of people with torches passing to and fro. He caught my eye, then leaned upon a column in a Cretan pose. As someone passed he said, ‘How can you be so cruel?’ and fingered my necklace and drew me near. The he said softly, ‘Minos has sent for you. The way is marked as before. You must go alone.’

He spoke as if he had learned it off. But I had never had word from the King, except from the Goddess. I stared, trying to read him. His Cretan looks, his finery, his foppish ways, all made him doubtful to me, once I began to doubt. I knew nothing of his standing among the warriors. My eyes met his. He took my by the arm, a grip tender to look at but strong and hard. ‘I have a token for you. Watch out, and take it like a love gift.’...as someone came past us [he said], ‘Wear it, my dear, and think of me’... He slipped it on my hand. Under his warning eye I smiled, turning it this way and that. I had seen it once before. So I leaned on his shoulder, as I had seen youths do in Crete, and whispered, ‘It is enough. What does he want?’ He put his arm around my waist and said, ‘He did not tell. It is something heavy.’ Then he looked past my shoulder and murmured swiftly, ‘One of Asterion’s people. We mustn’t look too well together. Quick, give me the slip.’ I shrugged him coyly off me, and went away. Though I felt a fool, I had no more doubts of him.” (pp. 324-5)

I read this book probably around age twelve, maybe thirteen.

I’m not sure what to call this figure I’m describing. The title of this entry is how Phaedrus comes to see Conory, and it’s a good summation of what I find compelling about him. That flashy, unapologetic androgyny, combined with surprising strength and formidable skills (even if only for acrobatics) was all part of it. I loved the idea of someone being feminine and dangerous, if anything dangerous in part because of his effeminacy. Not the most Quakerly of thoughts, of course, but I was in junior high at the time, as close to lord of the flies I ever hope to come. Don’t worry, I wasn’t actually bullied much. I had gotten very good at being invisible, so mostly people just ignored me. This creature though, he didn’t hide, he didn’t avoid people’s attention, he demanded it, knowing he deserved it, he was a delight to the eye, and could take care of himself if there was any trouble.

What would I have done if I had met such a person in real life? I would have fled screaming the other direction. I would have had nothing to do with this guy when I was a teenager, and was well into college before he wouldn’t have freaked me out. The men who came closest to this image at the time either seemed ridiculous (Elton John, Liberace), or scary (Bowie). (I never saw Mick Jagger this way for some reason.) Nor was there any way on God’s little green earth I was going to BE this person. I’d managed to win the two fights I couldn’t avoid (scuffles, really), but my invisibility policy was working even better, why mess with a good thing? I think I wanted to be him though, flashy, eye-catching, powerful, and dangerous.

By high school Boy George, Annie Lennox, Prince, Michael Jackson, and their imitators were on the scene. None of them scared me (though I thought most of them ridiculous), and I could even enjoy their music without repercussions. Androgyny was talked about more. I know their very existence still freaked a lot of people out, but I never saw any of them as having that dangerous power I found so compelling. Annie Lennox and Prince occasionally got close. All of them did help get me more comfortable with the gentler, less threatening face of this image, and that was good.

In college I finally met the great-granddaddy of these guys, Dionysus in Euripides The Bacchae. I had just come out months before, so this was my first time meeting the figure when I was free to enjoy him. Sure, I think he overdoes it with poor stupid Pentheus, but I still loved his combination of feminine sensuality and panther-like ferocity. Here was this creature turned force of nature, a natural and universal impulse we deny at our peril. Though I’ve never gotten to play him in The Bacchae, over the years he’s danced in and out of my life; some of the solo performing I’ve done has been in his guise as Bromios, and once or twice I’ve gotten to play Dionysian-like characters in other plays. Seeing as how this is the second entry I’ve written touching on androgyny, he’s clearly still a potent figure in my life, even if we’re not in touch presently. It was fun realizing where and when I actually met him.

Dear Brad V

Dear Brad,

Happy New Year! I hope you, Angie and the kids all had a restful time. I know it’s hard for you lot to slow down and take it easy, but what else are the holidays for? Even super-heroes like you guys (ha ha!) need downtime, right? Take a break, kick back, go with the kids to the beach! I guess your days on the nude beaches are over, aren’t they!

Congratulations on that Jesse James movie, and Oceans, what was it now? 18? I think I’m forgetting another movie too. My, you have been a busy little beaver, haven’t you! What else is new, right? Ha ha! I haven’t seen any of them yet, but you know I’ll love them! :)

So I just wanted to say hi, find out how everyone was at your end, and just check in on our upcoming project. I have a confession to make, Brad; after my letter of 2/9/06 I felt like you were excited about the spirit of my proposal, even if later you decided to take it a different direction. That was totally cool, that’s what collaboration is all about, right? Ever since 9/9/06 though, there’s been silence on your end. I know I know, you’ve been building houses in New Orleans, and saving the Third World with Angie, not to mention all those movies, I totally get it, so I wasn’t really worried... but you know how it is, when you fall in love with a project, having it go on hold for months, or even years, it can be hard.  I’ll admit it, Brad, I was beginning to lose faith.  In my weaker moments I wondered if maybe you had lost your zeal for a gay project.

Then I saw the article in Entertainment Weekly last month, examining how, contrary to predictions, Brokeback Mountain did not usher in a new age of popular Hollywood gay romances. Then I got it; man are you good! Just give it a little time, and suddenly our movie will be ‘the first one’ all over again! It’s worked before, after all. Brokeback was the ‘first’ just a few years after Tom Hanks rode Philadelphia to the Oscars, smooching Antonio Banderas along the way, the lucky bastard. A case could even be made that Longtime Companion broke the young indy actors taking a chance on a gay film mold too, but here came Heath and Jake, doing it (ha ha) for the ‘first time’.  I couldn’t tell you how Companion did at the box office, though. Sure there weren’t any Oscars, but Campbell Scott and Dermot Mulroney never looked back, right?

Okay, so we’re sitting tight until the hubbub dies down, and the country is lulled back into a state of homophobic complacency.  Cool.  I just have one teensy little question regarding that. You see this coming, I know, I know, I keep harping on it, but if you still have your heart set on The Front Runner, then my plastic surgery needs are just going to get more urgent. Remember, we’re already having to cut my age in half, if we wait until I’m 52, boy howdy, is that surgeon gonna need some serious skills, right?! :) Of course who knows what breakthroughs they’ll make in the field in the next ten years...

Oh, maybe you’re waiting to do it all at once right before we start shooting! That makes sense. I mean, why go to all the trouble now of making me look 22 if we’re going to have to do it all again in another ten years, ha ha. Right? That way the doc only has to stretch my face out once, thus improving the chances that I maintain sensation, muscle control, and some semblance of a human appearance (Have you seen Joan Rivers lately? Or Barry Manilow?!?). Believe me, I want to feel you kissing me during all our sex scenes, Big Boy, ha ha! :P

Okay, I’m feeling a lot better, thanks; you always manage to calm me down. Must be that laid-back Missouri charm of yours. I bet that’s another reason why everyone wants to work with you. Of course that fine ass doesn’t hurt either. Sssh! Don’t tell Angie! :O Remember our deal, ha ha! And try not to be a stranger! Let’s not go this long without a check-in again!

Kisses,

Patrick

PS. Dang, I almost forgot, did you see all the press in the gay media about the ring on your right ring finger? The ‘mos were all a twitter wondering if that meant you and Angie were ‘gay married’, in keeping with your promise not to wed until everyone could. Maybe you just thought you were putting on some jewelry that morning, but it just goes to show how impeccable your instincts are! Every move you make gets turned into gold. Brilliant! I’ll never be able to compete with the master, but I’ll sure have a good time trying, right?! :)

xxxPAL

Spreading the Love

Brian over at Peace of Cake has been working for about a year helping to develop a great new play, written by Kevin Podgorski. It's titled F*ck Me, B*at Me, L*ve Me. I saw a staged reading of it a few months back, though 'staged reading' is inaccurate for something as fully realized as this was. I thought the writing, acting, and directing were all fantastic. The play deals with some complex, difficult stuff in gay life and relationships, and I was blown away by it. For one entire scene two really hot guys were in their underwear, and it should tell you something that I was able to concentrate on something besides the sexy dragon tattoo climbing up one guy's thigh. The writing was that compelling.

Brian and Kevin have decided to produce the play themselves. Accordingly, they're in the process of fundraising; over at Brian's blog you can send donations to his paypal account. If you have a little change burning a hole in your pocket, and you'd like to help bring a smart, funny, sexy new play to its just fame, go on over. Every little bit helps, seriously. Hey B, maybe you can post some press photos if/when you get some? (Hope it's okay that I stole your headshot.)

Brian, by the way, has been the source of much good in my life. I have him to thank for introducing me to Joss Whedon, Neil Gaiman, Russell Davies' Dr. Who, John Barrowman, and Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, just for starters. So if you'd like to help a talented artist and a nice guy, drop some moolah over at his blog.

I won't be making these kinds of pleas here often; I just think this one is worth it.

Some Clarification Needed.

Dear Brad,
So, haven't heard from you in a while, I was just wondering if we were going to start shooting this Summer. I have a dance show going up in late July, and a friend's wedding in Seattle on August 5th, so the sooner I know what our plans are, the better. But no pressure. Well, maybe just a teensy bit of pressure since every day we put off filming, is another day further I get from being able to play twenty-two. Just to remind you.

Okay, I'll admit it, my real reason for writing is to ask you about some news I read on other blogs today. Word is that you're working on a new film, and have decided you want a stunt butt for this one. Sorry, butt double, I mean body double, (specifically in the buttal region) I'm still learning the lingo. I just have to ask, what the hell is up with that? We didn't get to see it in all its glory in Troy, but what we saw, well, it was magnificent, everyone said so. Pretty much the best damn thing about the movie, frankly. There are probably other films that gave us a glimpse, Thelma & Louise for example, I can't really recall now. My point is, you've got a fine ass, or at least you used to, so I'm wondering what is going on here. Are you feeling like you want to be more judicious with its unveiling, saving it for the really special projects? Are you feeling a tad insecure about your age? Boy can I relate; which reminds me, any word on my plastic surgery? Just checking. Have you decided that it's undignified for an artist of your stature to be dropping trou?

Some in the blogosphere has speculated that this indicates a new possessiveness on Angie's part. Is that true? Have you been making her question the veracity of some of those "Brad wants Jenn Back" tabloid articles we've been seeing? If so, boy howdy Brad, be careful, man. I don't want to picture the possible repercussions of an angry Angie. My blood run cold at the thought. You do not want her gunning for you.

Maybe it's just that Angie said she doesn't care for you disrobing on film anymore, and you knew better than to challenge that. I respect that. But do you think she might give you a special dispensation for our project? Assuming we're still doing The Front Runner and not some period piece involving head-to-toe black Edwardian garb and lots of ruffles, then I really think we're gonna need to see that fine ass. For the good of the project. She's an artist, a damn fine one in fact, maybe if you explain it to her like that she'd understand. I really don't know the full story with this film you're presently working on, but please try to explain to her that hiring a stunt butt for our project will seriously compromise the integrity. Seriously. That scene on the beach in the novel, we're gonna shoot that, aren't we? We really have to if we want to do justice to the book. I'm sure the author will think so. And that's gonna put your butt front and center, as it were.

So keep me posted on these delicate negotiations. And please keep my name out of it. If I end up tied naked and spread-eagled to a bed with Angie in black leather standing over me holding a whip, I want it to be under VERY different circumstances. Or have I said too much? Anyway, I'd rather she not know my position in this matter. Thanks.

Kisses,

Patrick

PS. Per Friend Jeff's request, (see comments) I tried to find a photo of your ass to include in this post. Much to my surprise, I couldn't find any! I was sure there was at least one from Troy, or Fight Club, but so far, zilch. Maybe you've always managed to avoid having your ass photographed in the past, and this upcoming film is the first time you could no longer avoid it. Is there something we need to know, Brad? Some severe scarring, or an embarrassing tattoo? They can erase those with make-up or on film (Angie can tell you all about it), so I doubt that's the problem. So this search for a stunt butt, does it indicate a deeper story? Can't wait to hear it.

I did, of course, find the paparazzi shot of your johnson, but I don't know how to post photos on here with that "click over to see more, NSFW" option, and I know a lot of my loyal readers check this blog at work. Besides, if Angie doesn't want you showing off your ass, what would she do to me if I posted a picture of your unit? So, Brad, I'll await word from you about how I should proceed in this manner. In the meantime, here's an amazing shot of your abs, from Fight Club, in honor of Jeff's fondness for that movie. Good GOD, man. With abs like this, how bad can your ass be? Seriously.

xoxoPAL

If you'd like to read my previous correspondance with Brad go here:

http://palacey.blogspot.com/2006/02/just-thought.html

http://palacey.blogspot.com/2006/04/quick-follow-up.html

http://palacey.blogspot.com/2006/09/gearing-up-for-filming.html

Randomness

Things I'm thinking about, that don't deserve their own entries, and don't really have much point.

I haven't heard all of Fergie Ferg's new album, The Duchess, but I'm curious; does she (or someone else) spell out a word on every single track? It's like an episode of Sesame Street.

Also, when did she become Fergie Ferg?

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If you are starting a brand new massage parlor, or rather 'massage' parlor, I don't really think you should call the first event a "Grand Opening". I'm just sayin'.

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I went to a cold reading workshop with a very nice casting director on Tuesday. Lots of useful information, and reaffirmation of old useful information. She made no bones about the fact that 'typing' is a central part of the process, ie. the people you're auditioning for have made decisions about you based on your look and energy from the minute you walk in the door. She recommended that you not waste a lot of time trying to figure out what your type is, but she also said that having a general sense of how you're perceived is a good idea. The gauge she recommends highest is looking at how you've been cast in the past. This seems reasonable, but still manages to frustrate me a bit. I look at my resume; let's see, I've been a dog, a wolf, a ten year old boy, the ghost of a seven year old boy, a several different dinosaurs, assorted insects, three different demons, the Archangel Michael, two rent boys and a femme fatale. Just to name a few. So, what does that tell me?

Then she handed out scenes to each of us in the workshop, implicitly letting us know how she was typing us. I got the role of Marc from "Ugly Betty", the flaming queen assistant to Wilhemina.

Oh, right. That.

Okay there wasn't really anything in the scene that immediately told us he was gay, I only knew he was being portrayed that way because I'd seen the show, so I wondered if I should avoid making that choice, since it seemed like I would just be playing the choices of the actor who got the role. I went later in the session (just luck of the draw) so I watched her tell person after person to avoid 'theatrical' choices, drive the scene, really connect with the scene partner, etc. So, my time comes, I say my lines, I connect with my reader, I keep things understated, there is no flaming of any kind.

Uh uh. That was not what she was looking for here. "Have more fun with the language, this isn't a realistic character, he hates Wilhemina, but wants to be her. Play him gayer."

All Righty.

I flitted, I flounced, I minced my ass off. My voice swept from highs to lows on virtually every line.

She liked it.

No one else was given this scene. Only one other gay role was handed out at all. Maybe I should take note of the fact that she gave that part (also written to be rather bitchy) to a large, muscular, dignified, older black man.

I'm still mulling over what I think of all this. What I think of this role in particular. And how I feel about being typed as a flaming queen before I've even opened my mouth. Whether that's the message I should be taking away from this, and if so, is that a problem? I guess if it gets me work, and doesn't play too strongly on stereotypes, then I can handle it. I think. It did make me uncomfortable. Still does. It still feels a bit like I was boxed in, given a 'type' that most people (me included, apparently) consider quite limiting. I can't decide if that's her problem, my problem, or not a problem at all.

Time to find those gay roles that don't feel like compromises.

Clarification Part I

I've seen one thread of the preceding entry a bit more clearly, and want to share that now. If a film is made that effectively tells a story about women or people of color, that process simultaneously gives work to members of those respective groups. Over time, the pool of successful actresses and performers of color grows in direct relation to the number of films dealing with their experiences. That process does not happen for queers (do I have to keep writing glbt or are you with me?). There may be a growing number of films dealing with queer experiences, but almost always they are portrayed by straight actors. I would argue there is even a strong preference for casting straight actors, either because of homophobia among the powers that be, or because of the perceived homophobia of the target audience. So while the number of images may be increasing, the number of actors benefitting from the increased visibility isn't growing at all, at least not through that method. "Will & Grace" did not lead to a single actor coming out during it's entire run (unless Sean B. Hayes finally broke his policy of refusing to answer the question, and somehow I missed it). I am glad for the rise in the number of queer characters in film and TV, but if we want an increase of openly queer actors, the push for that is going to come in some other way.

Gay in Hollywood

I’ve been struggling for days now to write about Hollywood’s preference for casting straight actors to play gay roles. For the record, I do NOT believe that all gay roles must be played by gay actors. The craft of acting is built on the understanding that we can empathize with the people other than ourselves. It’s why we do it, it’s why we watch it. Finding the universal in the particular, personal, even the eccentric may be the root of all good art. Certainly the experience of being an outsider is one that most individuals can find a way to relate to. I am firmly in the ‘let ‘em play gay’ camp.
There is something about this that still sticks in my craw, however. Not only are sexual minorities the only marginalized group who are routinely portrayed on film by non-members, in fact a strong attitude still prevails that it is preferable for non-members play us. The reasons why tend to be pretty vague; it’s more of an acting challenge according to some, gay films are risky ventures to begin with, so it’s necessary to involve big name performers to pull in audiences, are just two of the arguments I’ve heard. And in return for this, we are expected not to squawk, but be grateful that our stories are being told at all.
Let’s think about this; if a white man was cast as Ray Charles, if men were cast as Thelma or Louise, because "they were the right actors for the roles" many people would be up in arms, me included. I accept that the glbt experience is not necessarily analogous to that of race or gender, but I’m still not sure why not. Do we HAVE to be portrayed by straight people? Then if we throw in the argument frequently voiced by producers that openly queer performers won’t be accepted as straight characters (at least in romantic roles) it becomes evident that if a gay performer wants to be work in Hollywood, he or she better stay closeted.
Perhaps this is the single biggest difference we have from women and people of color, the closet. Most of us have had to go through a period of self-discovery and identification, then we have to decide if we want to ‘pass’ in the dominant culture. Since we have the option not to rock the boat, or disturb the status quo, there ends up being great pressures both external and internal (yes, our own discomfort can’t be ignored) to stay under the radar.
Yes, I know it’s tricky to talk about Hollywood as if it’s a monolithic entity, with some secret cabal setting casting policy, but we do have some gauges for noting trends. When looking at the situation for actresses and performers of color, we count the roles available for them to begin with, then we examine how well their stories are told. We also look at awards; it is seen (quite rightly, I believe) as noteworthy that we’ve only just had a black actress win a best actress Oscar. These measurements, when applied to the glbt situation reveal similar findings. "The Year of the Queer" notwithstanding, glbt characters are still pretty rare in film, and still primarily presented as jokes and stereotypes. To date there has been exactly one openly gay actor nominated for an Academy Award, and he didn’t win.
I only see one solution at this point, and it’s the one modeled by women and people of color before us; we need to forget about Hollywood, and make our own movies, tell our own stories. Yes, we’ve been doing that, and it’s started to pay off for some people, mostly directors at this point (John Waters, Rose Troche, Gus Van Zant to name a few). The handful of openly gay actors in Hollywood mostly work in (cable) TV, as character actors (often on hiatus from Broadway), or they’re British. God bless ‘em, they’re still making a difference, but I don’t think they’re going to be able to do much more than they have. No, we’re going to have to work on our own, outside the Hollywood system. History has shown us that if good work finds its audience, Hollywood will be gladly step in to take a piece of the action. It may be tapped into the ongoing debates of our culture, but the fact remains it is a business first and foremost, with huge amounts of money at stake. It isn’t interested in taking any risks, or doing us any favors. We’ve got to stop expecting it to. Individuals may have noble agendas, I for one don’t question Ang Lee’s sincerity or support one bit for example, but we’re not doing ourselves any favors if we wait around for acceptance. I'd love to hear other people's thoughts on these matters.

Silent Men

One of the oddest reactions I’ve had so far to Brokeback Mountain is the way it's made me think about my maternal grandfather. He and Ennis Del Mar were men cut from the same cloth in many ways. Both worked all their lives at demanding outdoor physical labor, Ennis as a cowboy, my grandfather as a farmer. They shared physical similarities too, both being physically strong but awkward, as if they weren’t entirely at home in their bodies. Above all though, these two were silent men.
Clearly they were both raised in cultures where silence was seen as a virtue, particularly for men, and their work demanded long hours away from human contact. Add to this the fact that my grandfather, Irving Smith, was a Midwestern Quaker and you have many reasons why he might have been a man of few words. It’s worth noting though that even among other Quakers and farmers, Irving was regarded as exceptionally quiet. During their first year of marriage, my grandmother (herself not really given to chatter) wondered if he was angry at her, since months might go by where all he said was "pass the butter."
The fact is I think the biggest thing Ennis Del Mar and Irving Smith shared was a deep misery and a complete inability to talk about it. No, I don’t think Irving was gay. Nor was he completely unemotional. I think he loved his wife Mary, his four children, and many other people. One rare memory I have of interacting with him as a child is when he showed me a photograph of his brother who, dissenting from the Quaker (and presumably family) view, went off to fight in WWII, dying as a fighter pilot. Though I never witnessed this, it was not uncommon for Irving to cry when he spoke in Quaker Meeting. My mother also says he occasionally succumbed to rages (though never physical violence) even going so far on occasion as to swear, breaking a significant Quaker taboo. (The worst thing Grandmother Mary ever said was "oh my stars and garters!" That should give you some idea what it was like when Irving said "hell" or "dammit".) I also saw him laugh on occasion. Over all though, my impression of him was of crippling silence, and strong feeling trapped under the surface, unable to get out.
I can’t really say what the cause was of his misery. One possibility is work. As I understand it, he never really wanted to be a farmer, but ended up doing it when his father-in-law became too sick to run the family operation. It’s not clear to me why it fell to him; Great-Grandfather Emmons had two sons (and an unmarried daughter, though one has to assume no one believed she could handle the farm alone), but I guess they had good reasons not to take it on. Maybe Mary felt compelled to care for her senile father. Maybe she loved the farm, and didn’t want to leave it. Maybe Irving was simply the only man available when the need came. I don’t know how it happened, but for whatever reason, responsibility for Emro Farm fell to Irving and Mary. My mother thinks he had hoped to do relief work, or social activism of some kind, but if there ever had been another plan besides farming, it never materialized. Once he was in, he was in for life. A cruel child at grade school once told my mother "your dad isn’t a very good farmer, you know," presumably parroting something heard at home. This disapproval might have been rooted in the fact that Irving and Mary were the only democrats in the county, or the fact that he had made a very public appeal for the farmers union to protest against WWII. But it’s also possible the statement was true. There seems to be evidence that his heart wasn’t in the job. Was this source of his misery?
I think a life-long depression is another possibility. Irving exhibited many of the signs of clinical depression throughout his life. Several of his descendants have also suffered from it, most of them benefitting from changes in social mores and science that allowed them to get treatment. I wonder sometimes how his life, and the lives of his family members, might have been different if he had been able to seek treatment, but I doubt it was ever really an option. Men (well, at least WASPS) born at the turn of the twentieth century weren’t really supposed to have emotions; if they had them, they weren't supposed to talk about them and certainly weren't supposed to be crippled by them. Quakers probably wouldn’t have been much help either; for them the goal of life was to seek the truth and live by it. Considering the sorry state of the world, a bleak view was probably seen as a sensible response. And if I’m right in thinking that Grandfather’s depression was at least partially inherited, then chances are the men in his life might not have modeled any other way of being.
In his later years I think he found a way to greater emotional expression, at least for him. His groovy California son began insisting on endless hugs; this may cause me to roll my eyes, but to be fair they may have had a positive effect on Irving. More significantly when Grandmother and Grandfather moved to a retirement community, I think they both enjoyed being around lots of people, especially since that included lots of their siblings and old school friends.
Nonetheless I never connected with him in any real way. After Grandmother’s death, he spent two Christmases with my family. I was living in Seattle at the time, and Christmas was often the only chance I got to see my parents and siblings. Time with the Laceys is generally a raucous, noisy, even intemperate affair, so Grandfather’s silent presence (not to mention his disapproval of alcohol) was viewed by all of us, I fear, as mostly a weight on the festivities. Mom got him all his Christmas presents since none of the rest of us had the slightest idea what he might like (another drawback if you never talk). I look back on that occasion with some guilt and a lot of regret. I was in my twenties, certainly old enough that I might have thought to draw him out, ask him stories about his life, just make some small attempt to get to know him better, but it never even occurred to me. He seemed like a known quantity to me, neither of us looking for a change in our relationship.
Could things have been different? Did he regret his life, or did he have the same mix of joy and misery that most of us have? Did he want things to change? Did he even think that was possible? If he had pursued a profession he loved, if he had gotten treatment for depression, would Irving Smith have become a chatterbox? Would he have seemed at home in his body? Would that incredible weight have lifted, that strangled feeling been let loose? Would I have found a way to know him? Seeing Ennis Del Mar is making me sad that I never even tried. As he left after one of his Christmas visits, Grandfather told us "I think I’m only just starting to see how much this visit meant to me." Since Brokeback that statement has been echoing in my head. It seems like he was making an attempt to let us know who was in there. Only now am I wondering what I could have done to reach him.

Just a Thought

Dear Mr. Pitt,
I was delighted to read recently that, after seeing the success of Brokeback Mountain, you asked your representation to find you a "gay project." I applaud this step. A case could be made that you came pretty close with Interview with a Vampire though you’re right not to consider it truly gay; the passion may have been vaguely homoerotic, but the sex was metaphorical at best. Still, it was the first movie of yours I had ever seen, it was surprisingly hot at times, and it was probably the best way to win me over. I’d previously not found myself particularly attracted to blondes, so your darkened tresses and silver-green eyes grabbed my attention long enough for me to notice your many other gifts. It's thanks to you that my attractions have now expanded to include people like Matt Damon and Jude Law (to think I might have skipped The Talented Mr. Ripley, were it not for you).

While we’re on the subject of hair, I have to note that you had a particularly good relationship with the hairstylist for that movie. She didn’t just settle at making you look great, she also seemed intent on making the other two stars look bad. Tom Cruise was a mere ukele away from looking like Tiny Tim, and Antonio Banderas, who really has to work to be anything but breathtaking... well, what was the deal with that wig? Why was he forced to wear a dead beaver on his head? To his credit, he rocked that look as well as anyone could; when you and he shared the screen the sparks flew, and the desire was unmistakable. But you were the uncontested beauty of that film.

So I think it’s fair to say you have already put one toe in the gay-for-pay world. It undoubtedly helped to be doing it with Banderas, who had previously played several gay characters by that point, including one we see deflowered in the missionary position. If a young up and coming actor (in macho Spain no less) is willing to be filmed with his ankles on another man’s shoulders, I think it’s safe to say he’s not particularly frightened of this issue. I’m sure he was a great help and comfort to you as you tested the waters. I understand why you two didn’t actually kiss, it was dramatically much more powerful to leave it unresolved, but now it’s time to explore a little farther, as you have decided yourself.

So again, I’m very pleased to read that you’re ready to take this next step. Sure it may look to some like blatant capitalizing on the surprising success of Brokeback, but you’re a great actor, and a total babe, so no one is really going to object for long. However, one has to point out that Brokeback set the bar pretty high. If you’re wanting to make your mark on this supposed openness in Hollywood, then you’re going to have to work some new angles. If you were actually gay, a gay movie would be a great opportunity to announce the fact, but that only works if it were true. The same is true if you were bisexual, though it’s riskier. Most people don't really know what the term means, so a lot of folks might think you were using one drunken kiss with your High School best friend (or George Clooney) as an excuse for shameless publicity seeking. So let’s just assume you’re a straight boy at home with his desires, open to artistic exploration. What can we do to make your film stand out from the soon to be pack of Brokeback wannabes?

I have a suggestion. Why not cast yourself opposite an up and coming actor who actually is gay but (and this is the clincher, stay with me here) of average looks, and body? Your beauty alone can carry a film, that has been proven time and again already, so no worries there. And yes, you could probably find plenty of pretty boys willing to play your lover (though Hollywood is constantly telling us about all the gay actors who are still afraid to read for gay roles), but then what do you have? Two gorgeous guys making out on film, face it, it’s been done, not only with Brokeback, but also Longtime Companion, The Broken Hearts Club, and Velvet Goldmine just to name a few. No, I think the real drama will come from seeing you fall madly in love with someone for his personality. He needn’t be Quasimodo, I understand we can’t strain credulity too much, but seeing an Adonis like you fall for an average, even plain guy, well, that would be a new story, don’t you think? The beautiful woman falling for a plain guy is a story as old as time; we have even seen the beautiful man falling for a plain woman done, at least in theory. If we accept the premise of Janeane Garofalo as ugly, then having Ben Chaplin fall in love with her in The Truth About Cats and Dogs has broached that territory already. (I will not acknowledge the film adaptation of Frankie and Johnny; they took the plain girl role away from Kathy Bates? And gave it to Michelle Pfeiffer?)

So, that’s one suggestion for how you make your mark. And I think I know just the guy; enclosed you will find my headshot and resume. As you can see, perhaps I’m not ugly, but I am definitely Hollywood ugly, Janeane Garofalo ugly, I think I could be just the look you need as foil to your beauty. And it just so happens I am also openly gay (bet you didn't see that coming), have been for twenty years now, and if I ever was tempted to go back in the closet, a wide network of friends, family, college classmates, and random strangers would be on hand to call me on my hypocrisy, going to the National Enquirer if necessary. We could even work that angle, if you think it would be helpful.

I really think this arrangement could be mutually beneficial. You could show me the ropes of a Hollywood movie set, I could show you the ropes of playing a believable gay man. I might not be able to tap you into any new press; you’re already the darling of the gay mags, but they would rally behind you even more if you were seen as helping a gay actor break into Hollywood, thereby increasing the number of openly gay American actors almost to an even dozen.

Please feel free to contact me if you would like to discuss this further. I’m available to read sides with you at your earliest convenience. For the record, I am also happy to shoot anywhere in the world. In fact we could combine the gay thing with an epic adventure, thus giving us an added angle for claiming new artistic terrain. I’ve always wanted to see New Zealand. Do you know what Peter Jackson is up to?

I look forward to hearing from you,

Sincerely,

Patrick Lacey.

Evening with Capote

Hello, and welcome to my head. Or at least the parts I share with guests. It's nice to have you here.

I'm tempted to establish a mission for this blog, but the fact is, I've just started reading blogs myself, and felt like joining the party. Maybe if this ends up being more than one entry, I'll see a grand manifesto forming, but for now, I'm just going to write down the things that are rattling around in my head. I'm assuming anyone reading this is a friend of mine (until I take over the internet), and what you'll find here is the sort of stuff I used to subject you to in my emails, causing many of you to feel perhaps just the teensiest bit overwhelmed. With any luck, this will help me get things out of my system, and allow you the option to read or ignore them, at your leisure, with no pressing sense that you have to reply. Such a deal, huh? So, this is my first entry.

Last week I saw the movie Capote. For the record I highly recommend it; I think it's a compelling story well told, from writing to acting. If reading about movies before you see them ruins them for you, then you might want to skip the rest of this. In the past I have shared elements of a film that I thought were mere details ("and then, the ship sinks!") or common knowledge, only to discover that I had just spoiled a movie for a friend. So, I'm just saying.

Still with me? Okay, like I said, I thought the movie was terrific, but I found myself watching with a strange sense of dread for most of it. It took me a while to identify the source. I knew early in the movie that I didn't much care for Capote himself. Philip Seymour Hoffman is wonderful, he deserves his Golden Globe and SAG award, it's not that, I mean I didn't like person. This isn't too surprising. He's portrayed as an emotional vampire, charming and seducing anyone who has something he wants, lying through his teeth as needed, taking advantage of people's vulnerabilities in his drive to create his book. Hell, he all but promises to save the lives of guys on death row, how low do you have to go?

So there's that.

Then there's his snobbery. He unabashedly embodies the East Coast Intellectual, and he does it in exactly the ways that tends to make the rest of the country hate that person. He's openly condescending, frequently contemptuous of people's feelings, and more than once we see him laughing at people behind their backs, ridiculing them for their earnestness or naivete. For some reason I can handle it when someone ridicules pomposity or arrogance, but it really bothers me when simplicity or innocence is the butt of the joke. Yes, he turns his wit on himself sometimes too, and there are clearly times when his connection with others is sincere and heartfelt, but too often I felt I was seeing a master manipulator in action, whose only concerns were to finish his damn book, solidify his fame, and have hilarious stories to share at parties.

I'd say none of this is particularly insightful, it is in fact the story I think we are meant to see. So why did I watch it with a pit in my stomach? By the end I had it figured out; I felt personally responsible for Capote's behavior. I believed his actions reflected on me.

I'm sorry, what? Yeah, I know. But I did. I felt at some level that society at large would identify him and me as members of the same tribe, not just by being gay, but also by living in New York, working in the arts, caring passionately about words, and books. The fact is I feel just as alien (or just as native) in that world as I do in the midwestern town where I grew up (Red State big time), Seattle, or even Dublin. I tend to feel like a fish out of water most places frankly. But somehow I knew that most people, especially the good Kansas folk portrayed in the movie, would have seen me as a bird of Capote's feather, making his bad behavior my responsibility.

Obviously this discovery was all it took for me to get over it. But I realized that trigger, the desire not to be aligned with 'bad' homosexuals, is still a part of my make-up. And it's not evil gays, really. I didn't feel this way about Matt Damon's murderous Tom Ripley, or Jude Law's criminally spoiled Bosie. Why did Capote trigger it? Is it just because he was a fussy, effeminate, neurotic, needy, selfish little man? Would I have cut him some slack if he didn't have that VOICE?

Internalized homophobia, anyone?

But this revelation wasn't the only one I had about the character of Truman Capote. East Coast liberal intellectual snob... that started to sound familiar. Then it hit me; this was how George W. Bush painted John Kerry in the 2004 elections. Despite having virtually the same pedigree and education, despite being a draft dodger to Kerry's war hero, GWB turned Kerry into TRUMAN CAPOTE. And the sad thing is, Kerry bought into it. He made certain to be photographed skiing, wind-surfing, tried to talk about sports, he accepted the premise of the assertion, and just set about denying it.

Is this what cost him the election? I don't know. I doubt it. And let's not forget, he lost the election by a hair, no matter how much GWB wants to believe he received a mandate. But it seems clear to me that the spectre of the effeminate homosexual is still looming over the American male, and the pressures to avoid identifying with him are coming from all sides. It's an interesting time where some forces are enraged by the 'raping of the Marlboro Man' in the form of Brokeback Mountain, while others of us (or is it just me) are still apologizing for the fussy Queen.