Why is Hollywood scared of queer culture?
MONTREAL (CUP) — What's the deal with Hollywood? It's a town built on the reputation of such liberal ideals, yet it's so afraid of the lending voice to the gay and lesbian community. Sadly, the term “homosexual” still holds negative connotations within the world of cinema.
The 2005 film Brokeback Mountain, which garnered eight Oscar nominations for its portrayal of two gay cowboys, was met with as many discriminators as admirers. A frontrunner for best picture, its legacy as the first crossover film to achieve such prestige was not to be. When Jack Nicholson announced the winner on Oscar night in 2006, a dismayed murmur rang out in the Kodak Theatre, as the racially charged Crash beat out the film so many felt was the true stand-out of the nominees. Even Nicholson was shocked, stating to reporters afterwards that he, a long-serving academy member, voted for the gay-themed romance.
Why is this a taboo subject? Well, in the case of Brokeback Mountain, its defeat came with many of the older — and I mean older — academy members' disdain for what they saw as America's purest genre, the Western, tarnished by two men falling in love and, gasp, having sex. The decrepit Ernest Borgnine, all of 89 years young at the time, had the most disheartening comments of all.
“I didn't see it and I don't care to see it . . . If John Wayne were alive, he'd be rolling over in his grave,” he said. While the actor's slur came across as being appallingly arrogant, it also reinforced a hidden fear — a fear that some in tinsel town still cannot concede to homosexuality, nor comfortably market it to the masses or themselves.
With rare exceptions like Ellen DeGeneres and Neil Patrick Harris, the choice in coming out has long been acknowledged, more or less, as career suicide within the North American market. A notable example is that of Rock Hudson, a dashing leading man recognized for romantic comedies of the 1960s. One of the first major stars to succumb to the AIDS pandemic, Hudson's death was thought to be the result of a tainted blood transfusion. When word got out of his homosexuality, many colleagues and friends were taken by surprise, with no idea of his secret life.
More recently, Jodie Foster, respected actress and two-time Oscar winner, reluctantly admitted to her homosexuality, not by means of self-acceptance but from being outed by none other than self-proclaimed “Queen of All Media,” Perez Hilton, and the LGBT magazine, Out. Her script choices, usually more intellectual than commercial, have strangely stalled in the last few years from a creative standpoint.
As for Perez, he's a self-made industry. A magnet of much criticism, Hilton's tactics have not only assisted in “outing” Jodie Foster and Lance Bass, but have brought on speculation about the highly personal lives of celebrities like Tom Cruise. While Cruise's personal attributes have been widely discussed and written about, most recently in Andrew Morton's unauthorized biography of the star, these accusations have taken a backseat to his inane theories of psychiatry and the almighty Xenu.
I can see Hilton's intent. Although obnoxious in terms of degrading his peers as well as his enemies, he strives for unification in an industry still wary of the unknown, where the perception of an actor and their sexuality are still highly magnified.
Why should it matter though? A great film is a great film. An actor's job is to achieve the goal of having us believe in them as that character. Frankly, I couldn't care less about their sexual orientation. What I do care about is the craft of the art form, and how it makes one feel.
“New queer cinema,” a subgenre of the American independent film movement that started in the late 1980s, focuses heavily on issues of identity and culture, bringing about a bevy of talent that's still prospering in Hollywood today. Its most prominent graduate, director Gus Van Sant, started off on low-budget features, casting unknown street kids and imbuing a stylistic atmosphere in black and white rather than develop a fully formed narrative. Over the years he has gradually moved away from his humble beginnings and onto high profile pictures such as Good Will Hunting, Elephant, and My Own Private Idaho, which quite possibly features Keanu Reeves' greatest acting achievement, as a homeless street hustler.
Just last year, Van Sant reached an artistic apex when his film Milk received eight Oscar nominations. Centring on the political career of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man elected to public office, it boldly confronted the homosexual culture of San Francisco in the 1970s as well as the bigotry felt and still seen today in political challenges like Proposition 8.
For his magnificent portrayal of the slain gay politician, Sean Penn won his second Oscar, making up for the loss of Brokeback Mountain only three years prior. In a speech that reflected California's recent choice in opposing equal rights for same sex partners, Penn, in a moment of worldwide attention, challenged the resistance, stating, “I think it is a good time for those who voted for the ban against gay marriage to sit and reflect, and anticipate their great shame and the shame in their grandchildren's eyes if that continues in way of support.”
As the crowd erupted with cheers and applause, he bookended his historic speech with a plea for alliance: “We've got to have equal rights for everyone.”
In an industry where almost anything goes, it's amazing that this topic is still an issue. Then again, the entertainment industry is just a sliver of the overall viewing demographic. There is hatred all over the world, far removed from the smoke and mirrors of sunny Los Angeles and the cultural metropolis of New York City. For all the good this generation has to offer, there will always be the bad. Let's hope things change.
The 2005 film Brokeback Mountain, which garnered eight Oscar nominations for its portrayal of two gay cowboys, was met with as many discriminators as admirers. A frontrunner for best picture, its legacy as the first crossover film to achieve such prestige was not to be. When Jack Nicholson announced the winner on Oscar night in 2006, a dismayed murmur rang out in the Kodak Theatre, as the racially charged Crash beat out the film so many felt was the true stand-out of the nominees. Even Nicholson was shocked, stating to reporters afterwards that he, a long-serving academy member, voted for the gay-themed romance.
Why is this a taboo subject? Well, in the case of Brokeback Mountain, its defeat came with many of the older — and I mean older — academy members' disdain for what they saw as America's purest genre, the Western, tarnished by two men falling in love and, gasp, having sex. The decrepit Ernest Borgnine, all of 89 years young at the time, had the most disheartening comments of all.
“I didn't see it and I don't care to see it . . . If John Wayne were alive, he'd be rolling over in his grave,” he said. While the actor's slur came across as being appallingly arrogant, it also reinforced a hidden fear — a fear that some in tinsel town still cannot concede to homosexuality, nor comfortably market it to the masses or themselves.
With rare exceptions like Ellen DeGeneres and Neil Patrick Harris, the choice in coming out has long been acknowledged, more or less, as career suicide within the North American market. A notable example is that of Rock Hudson, a dashing leading man recognized for romantic comedies of the 1960s. One of the first major stars to succumb to the AIDS pandemic, Hudson's death was thought to be the result of a tainted blood transfusion. When word got out of his homosexuality, many colleagues and friends were taken by surprise, with no idea of his secret life.
More recently, Jodie Foster, respected actress and two-time Oscar winner, reluctantly admitted to her homosexuality, not by means of self-acceptance but from being outed by none other than self-proclaimed “Queen of All Media,” Perez Hilton, and the LGBT magazine, Out. Her script choices, usually more intellectual than commercial, have strangely stalled in the last few years from a creative standpoint.
As for Perez, he's a self-made industry. A magnet of much criticism, Hilton's tactics have not only assisted in “outing” Jodie Foster and Lance Bass, but have brought on speculation about the highly personal lives of celebrities like Tom Cruise. While Cruise's personal attributes have been widely discussed and written about, most recently in Andrew Morton's unauthorized biography of the star, these accusations have taken a backseat to his inane theories of psychiatry and the almighty Xenu.
I can see Hilton's intent. Although obnoxious in terms of degrading his peers as well as his enemies, he strives for unification in an industry still wary of the unknown, where the perception of an actor and their sexuality are still highly magnified.
Why should it matter though? A great film is a great film. An actor's job is to achieve the goal of having us believe in them as that character. Frankly, I couldn't care less about their sexual orientation. What I do care about is the craft of the art form, and how it makes one feel.
“New queer cinema,” a subgenre of the American independent film movement that started in the late 1980s, focuses heavily on issues of identity and culture, bringing about a bevy of talent that's still prospering in Hollywood today. Its most prominent graduate, director Gus Van Sant, started off on low-budget features, casting unknown street kids and imbuing a stylistic atmosphere in black and white rather than develop a fully formed narrative. Over the years he has gradually moved away from his humble beginnings and onto high profile pictures such as Good Will Hunting, Elephant, and My Own Private Idaho, which quite possibly features Keanu Reeves' greatest acting achievement, as a homeless street hustler.
Just last year, Van Sant reached an artistic apex when his film Milk received eight Oscar nominations. Centring on the political career of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man elected to public office, it boldly confronted the homosexual culture of San Francisco in the 1970s as well as the bigotry felt and still seen today in political challenges like Proposition 8.
For his magnificent portrayal of the slain gay politician, Sean Penn won his second Oscar, making up for the loss of Brokeback Mountain only three years prior. In a speech that reflected California's recent choice in opposing equal rights for same sex partners, Penn, in a moment of worldwide attention, challenged the resistance, stating, “I think it is a good time for those who voted for the ban against gay marriage to sit and reflect, and anticipate their great shame and the shame in their grandchildren's eyes if that continues in way of support.”
As the crowd erupted with cheers and applause, he bookended his historic speech with a plea for alliance: “We've got to have equal rights for everyone.”
In an industry where almost anything goes, it's amazing that this topic is still an issue. Then again, the entertainment industry is just a sliver of the overall viewing demographic. There is hatred all over the world, far removed from the smoke and mirrors of sunny Los Angeles and the cultural metropolis of New York City. For all the good this generation has to offer, there will always be the bad. Let's hope things change.
