Movies
Cher, Babs, Liza among Razzie noms
Oscar bounty predictable but divas will battle for ‘worst supporting actress’
The Oscar hopefuls were announced today but the Golden Rasberry Awards (“the Razzies”) had a far more interesting batch of nominees this year.
In perhaps the gayest group of nominees of any award ever, Cher, Liza Minnelli and Barbra Streisand are all up for the Worst Supporting Actress Razzie for “Burlesque,” “Sex and the City 2” and “Little Fockers” respectively. The former and latter were ravaged by critics. “Sex’s” most ignominious moment was Liza’s cover of “Single Ladies.” “Sex” also got a Worst Picture nomination. Ironically, all three ladies have Best Actress Oscars. Streisand also won one for writing “Evergreen.”
They’ll “compete” with Jessica Alba and Nicola Peltz for the Razzie. Liza already has a Razzie ā she won Worst Actress in 1988 for “Arthur 2” and “Rent-a-Cop.” Streisand was nominated in the lead category in 1981 for “All Night Long.”
Things were far more boring and predictable on the Oscar front. “Black Swan” and “The Kids Are All Right” are up for Best Picture and Annette Bening is up for Best Actress for playing a lesbian in “Kids.” Sperm donor Mark Ruffalo is up for Best Supporting Actor for “Kids.”
That reminds me ā what was up with the gay (male) porn/lesbian sex scene in “Kids”? I’m no expert on lesbian sex, but I didn’t get it at all.
The Oscars are Feb. 27. The Razzies are the day before.
Movies
Deliciously queer āDead Boy Detectivesā a case worth taking on
A light-hearted, smart, and complex sensibility behind the fantasy
Believe it or not, there was once a time when the Hollywood entertainment industry didnāt take comic books very seriously ā but then, neither did anyone else.
In the early days, comics were dismissed by most adults as childish fantasy; indeed, those with a penchant for clutching pearls saw them as a threat to their childrenās intellectual development and therefore to the future of America itself. Their popularity could not be denied, however, and Hollywood, ever eager to capitalize on a trend, was certainly hungry to get a piece of the action.
The problem was that the studio lackeys assigned to adapt the comics for the screen during those āgolden yearsā were never actually fans of the comics themselves. The result was a parade of kitschy ā if occasionally stylish ā low-budget serials, kiddie matinees, and āB moviesā which operated, for the most part, at the level of cartoons, and mindless ones at that. Even in the 1960s, when comics like āX-Menā had begun exploring mature themes and turning the comic book into a counterculture phenomenon, the best that Hollywood ā now deploying the then-relatively new medium of television ā was a āBatmanā series that felt even campier than the corny serials of three decades before.
Yet despite being treated as a throwaway genre with no cultural significance or intellectual value, the popularity never went away ā and with the generation that grew up with comics now old enough to be working in Hollywood themselves, a new burst of creativity began to infuse the screenās version of the genre with the kind of nuance and sophistication that fans had always known was there. Fast forward to 2024, when comics-based content dominates not just our movie screens ā nobody needs to be told about the way it has shaped (some would say crippled) the mainstream film industry for the last decade or so ā but all our other screens, as well. And while much of the material that has resulted from this obsessive fascination with comics (and comics-adjacent material like āStar Warsā and other similar fantasy franchises) often suffers from the same safe āappeal to the LCDā mentality that robbed the vintage stuff of its potential, the artistry of creators who are fans themselves has also resulted in a lot of genuinely good storytelling.
In the latter category, we offer up āDead Boy Detectivesā ā a new series derived from a supplemental thread in renowned comics creator-turned-bestselling author Neil Gaimanās groundbreaking āSandmanā, which debuted last week on Netflix ā as a counter to the increasingly popular notion that comic books have hamstrung the industryās creativity.
Based on characters and storylines that emerged during the original run of Gaimanās iconic book (published by DC Comics via its Vertigo imprint), itās a fresh, funny-yet-emotionally engaging supernatural saga in which two ghosts who died in their youth ā the titular āDead Boysā ā operate a detective agency in London, solving mysteries for other spirits who need closure before moving on to the afterlife.
The boys ā Edwin (George Rexstrew) and Charles (Jayden Revri) ā are not themselves quite ready to depart the earthly plane, however; on the contrary, they operate on the lam, making sure to keep one step ahead of Death (Kirby Howell-Baptiste, reprising her role from Netflixās acclaimed āSandmanā adaptation) so that she canāt drag them out of it before theyāre ready. Something of a mismatched pair (both died at the same English boarding school, but 60 years apart), they nevertheless have established a fondness for each other and a dynamic together that makes them an excellent team in solving the supernatural crimes they encounter in their work. Their biggest handicap is the difficulty of dealing with the living ā who, for the most part, cannot see or hear them – when it becomes necessary in an investigation. Fortunately for them (and for the story, of course), they find a solution to that issue during episode one.
Enlisted by the ghost of a Victorian child to rescue the human medium – Crystal Palace (Kassius Nelson), possessed by a former boyfriend who was actually a demon (David Iacono) ā that has been trying to help her ācross overā, the detectives find themselves with a living ally who can not only interact with them, but also with the ārealā world in which they do their work. With CrystalĀ on the team, they are soon called to an American seaport town to investigate the disappearance of a child – who, it turns out, has been abducted by a witch (Jenn Lyon) intent on draining her youthful essence in pursuit of her own immortal beauty. We donāt want to give anything away, but during the course of the case they not only incur her wrath, they set off alarm bells on the āother sideā, calling attention to the fact that two AWOL souls are still lingering in the human world.
Things get worse for them in the second episode, when Edwin attracts the interest of the local āCat Kingā (Lukas Gage, āWhite Lotus,ā āDown Lowā) and subsequently finds himself cursed to remain until he has ācounted all the catsā in town ā a daunting and maybe impossible task.
Though jumping into the second installment might feel like getting ahead of ourselves, itās important to look ahead for the sake of exploring the showās deliciously pervasive queerness, so forgive the spoiler-ish leap; because it is Edwin, who died in an era long before being openly attracted to other boys could even be discussed, let alone accepted, that serves to root the storyās tension into a real-life context that helps all the supernatural nonsense connect with relatable real-world experience and emotion. Uncomfortable more than a century after his death with the secrets of his own sexuality, he finds himself hampered by his jealousy of the obvious growing attraction between his literal BFF and the new girl psychic who has joined their team – as well as vulnerable to manipulation from both the witch who has it in for him and the Cat King whoā¦ well, letās just say that Edwin’s cat-counting curse could be easily lifted if he would only accept another way to appease the libidinous (and far from unappealing) feline monarch.
Itās best we stop there, before we reveal too much; the series ā developed by Steve Yockey and produced by (among others) original author Gaiman and out queer TV impresario Greg Berlanti ā sets up its story arc very plainly from the beginning, so savvy viewers will read the subtext long before any definitive events take place, but much of what makes it fun is watching how it all unfolds.
Suffice to say that, with engaging performances from all its players, a light-hearted, smart, and complex sensibility behind all of its fantasy elements, and a palpably queer vibe that leaves plenty of room for allies to jump on board, too, itās one of the more worthwhile (and meaningful) ācomic bookā stories to hit our screens in a long while.
Maybe more importantly, itās also entertaining, which makes it easy for us to recommend āDead Boy Detectivesā as a case youāll definitely want to accept.
Movies
Itās game, set, and mismatch in unfulfilling āChallengersā
Not quite a bisexual love story for the ages
For months now, most of the buzz around Luca Guadagninoās newest film ā āChallengers,ā starring Zendaya as a professional tennis coach caught in an ongoing romantic triangle with a pair of male rival players ā has been about how ābisexualā it would be.
After all, this was the man that brought us āCall Me By Your Name,ā and even if the Italian filmmakerās work has not always been that queer in focus, this premise was begging for it; and when the trailers started to drop, heavily laden with imagery that made the bisexual subtext blatantly obvious, the speculation ā and the anticipation ā only grew.
As it turns out, āChallengersā wasnāt teasing us in vain ā but it may not even matter, because after spending two hours and 10 minutes with these characters, itās hard to imagine any viewer, whether straight, bi, or a total āKinsey 6,ā wanting to feel represented by them.
Told in a non-linear patchwork format, Guadagninoās movie ā penned by Justin Kuritzkes ā chronicles the complicated relationship that develops when two high school tennis champs, boyhood friends Patrick and Art (Josh OāConnor and Mike Faist, respectively), encounter high-profile pro prospect Tashi (Zendaya) at the US Open juniors. Infatuated at first sight as much by her prowess at the game as by her looks or personality, they woo her together, resulting in a steamy but thwarted three-way experience that ends with her promising her phone number to the one who wins the next dayās match.
More than a decade later, Tashi and Art are a married, wealthy power couple with a child; theyāve risen to fame after Tashi, sidelined by injury into a career as a world-class coach, has helped Art rise to international prowess, while Patrick, who originally won the challenge to become Tashiās lover, has sunken to the level of low-ranked has-been after brief professional success. Art has hit a slump in his upward trajectory, so to freshen up his game, Tashi enters him into a small-time āchallengerā tournament where Patrick, now scraping by on his meager winnings from lower circuit events such as this one, is a āwild cardā entry. The rekindling of old rivalries and complex feelings between this intertwined trio of āplayersā results in a final competition in which the outcome has more to do with unrequited personal passions than it does with tennis.
Ostensibly both a sports movie and a romantic drama, itās a film that wastes no time in tying its two themes together for an exploration of how the competitive instinct that might be essential to one can be a major obstacle when it comes to the other. Thanks to its back-and-forth time structure, we are rushed through all the necessary twists and turns of a 13-year romantic triadĀ quickly enough to recognize immediately that the need to āwinā supersedes every other desired outcome for these three people; more than that, in the broad strokes that emphasize the quick deterioration of their affections in the pursuit of the āgameā (a word we use here both literally and figuratively), it becomes obvious that none of them are capable of recognizing how much influence their lust for victory has over their relationships with each other. To put it bluntly, in an era when polyamory has gained traction as a legitimate variation on the spectrum of human commitment, āChallengersā reads a little bit like a primer on how NOT to do it right.
That might, of course, be a big part of the point. In a story about professional athletes driven by the urge for victory trying to negotiate the delicate balance of self-respect and selflessness required to maintain a successful romantic partnership ā no matter how many partners may be involved ā itās probably an inescapable element of the plot that there would be a struggle to reconcile those two conflicting impulses. The trouble is that, here, the three characters involved are so far removed from typical human experience that it becomes difficult to relate to any of them. They operate within a privileged world that is out of reach for most of us, and the conflicts that arise in their triad dynamic mostly arise from pure ego. Itās hard to feel empathy for such individuals, frankly, especially when itās clear that their own mindset is the greatest obstacle to fulfillment in their lives, both professionally and personally. Theyāre all spoiled brats, and unrepentantly so.
Itās because of this that āChallengersā comes off as the kind of glossy, old-Hollywood fantasy that is more about wish fulfillment than anything else. Each of its protagonists is impossibly attractive; fit, sexy, and living an enviable life even when theyāre struggling just to get by. They are the kind of people many of us wish we could be ā and that, ironically, perhaps makes us dislike them all the more.
None of this is the fault of the players, who uniformly give the kind of fully invested performance that illuminates the humanity of their characters beyond negative cliches. Zendaya, never shying from her role as master manipulator in the filmās twisted ālong conā romance, makes us feel the visceral need for competition that eclipses her less imperative impulses toward personal connection. OāConnor (āGodās Own Country,ā āThe Crownā) and Faist (Broadwayās āDear Evan Hansen,ā Spielbergās āWest Side Storyā) are not only eminently likable, but present an unvarnished and completely believable chemistry as would-be-lovers who canāt quite get past their self-judgment to embrace the obvious feelings they have for each other. The fact that we believe equally in their impulse toward the dazzlingly self-actualized Zendaya makes their performances all the more stellar. Unfortunately, within the larger context of the film, their appeal is tarnished by our ambivalence toward the dynamic the characters perpetuate between themselves.
And what of their sexuality? Is āChallengersā that rare mainstream movie that vaults over the film industryās long-lamented ābi erasureā to present a bisexual love story for the ages? Not quite. Even if its ending (spoiler alert!) suggests that the entire movie has been about two men getting over their toxic masculinity to embrace their true feelings for each other, the fact that it never defines that relationship as a queer one and chooses instead to leave it up to our individual interpretation feels like something of a cop out. In the long run, perhaps, itās a better tactic to avoid labeling its relationships in terms of sexuality, since the cultural āendgameā at stake has arguably more to do with normalizing diversity than amplifying an individual sense of identity – but even so, it canāt be denied that, when āChallengersā reaches its final moment, weāre left with a sense of ambiguity that feels far too āsafe,ā too much a capitulation to the fragile mainstream sensibility, to advance a sense of acceptance for the āBā in āLGBTQ.ā In the end, itās a movie that stops short of the mark for the sake of the lowest common comfort zone.
Which is why, sadly, we have to set āChallengersā aside as a failed – if well-meaning – attempt at providing visibility for the most traditionally invisible faction of the queer community, instead of the unequivocal validation of bisexual attraction weāre still waiting to see.
Movies
āHousekeeping for Beginnersā embraces true meaning of family
Another triumph from young filmmaker Goran Stolevski
Once upon a time in America, queer people sometimes adopted their lovers as their āchildrenā so that they could be legally bound together as family.
Thatās not a revelation, though some queer younglings may be shocked to learn this particular nugget of hidden history, nor is it a call to political awareness in an election year when millions are actively working to roll back our freedoms. We bring it up merely as a sort of context for the world that provides the setting in āHousekeeping for Beginners,ā the winner of the Queer Lion prize at 2023ās Venice Film Festival, which opened in limited U.S. theaters on April 5 and expanded for a wider release last weekend.
Written and directed by Goran Stolevski ā a Macedonian-born Australian filmmaker whose two previous films, āYou Wonāt Be Aloneā and āOf An Age,ā both released in 2022, each met with critical acclaim ā and submitted (unsuccessfully) as the official Oscar entry for International Feature from the Republic of North Macedonia, itās a movie about what it means to be āfamily,ā which touches on the political while placing its focus on the personal ā in other words, on lived experience rather than ideological argument ā and, in the process, drives home some very important existential warnings at a time when things could go either way.
Set in the North Macedonian capital of Skopje, it centers on social worker Dita (Anamaria Marinca), a middle-aged lesbian, whose house is a safe haven for a collection of outcasts. First and foremost is her girlfriend Suada (Alina Serban), a single mother of Romani heritage, but the āchosen familyā in the household also includes Suadaās daughters, teenaged Vanesa (Mia Mustafi) and precocious 5-year-old Mia (Dżada Selim); Ditaās long-term friend Toni (Vladimir Tintor), a middle-aged gay man who works night shifts at a mental hospital; Toniās new, much-younger boyfriend Ali (Samson Selim); and Elena (Sara Klimoska), an older and more worldly schoolmate of the other girls who serves as a makeshift big sister.
It is, unsurprisingly, a chaotic environment, a sea of revolving situations that largely goes on without Ditaās direct involvement, though she occasionally asserts more authority than she either has or cares to wield. That all changes, however, when Suada is diagnosed with aggressive pancreatic cancer, leading her to extract from her lover the promise that she will be mother to her children when sheās gone.
If you want a spoiler-free experience, you should stop reading now; further discussion of āHousekeeping for Beginnersā requires us to reveal that Dita is forced to make good on that promise, even though sheās never had the desire to be a mother, and itās not just a matter of making sure the kids get all their daily meals and show up for school on time. In North Macedonia, where same-sex relationships are not illegal but are neither granted the validation of lawful protections, the adoption of children requires a woman to have a husband, which means entering into a sham marriage with Toni ā who is not quite a 100% onboard, himself ā and listing him as the girlsā father. More difficult, perhaps, is gaining the trust of Suadaās two daughters, neither of whom is exactly receptive to the prospect of exchanging their real mother for a half-willing replacement. Itās this challenge that proves most daunting, triggering a crisis that will put every member of this cobbled-together family group to the test if they are to have any hope of hanging on to each other and making it work ā something to which Dita finds herself growing deeply committed, despite her initial reticence about taking on the role of default matriarch.
Shot in Stolevskiās accustomed milieu – an intimate, cinema veritĆ© style built on handheld camerawork and near-exclusive reliance on close-up framing to capture the awkward blend of comfort and claustrophobia that often accompanies life in a crowded household environment ā and leaving most of the expository cultural details, such as the impact of ethnic ācasteā and the complicated hierarchy of layers involved in negotiating a peaceful coexistence with ānormalā Macedonian society when your domestic and familial structures are anything but ānormalā, to be gleaned by context rather than direct explanation. It works, of course; thereās something universally recognizable about the difficulty of āblending inā that helps us bridge the gap even if we donāt quite understand all the fine points as well as we might if we, like Stolevski, had grown up having to deal with them directly.
Even so, there are times when a bit of distance might be missed by audiences in need of a wider scope; itās hard, after all, to get a palpable sense of space and location when most of what we see onscreen are the upper thirds of whichever cast members happen to be featured in each particular scene. But in case that sounds like a criticism, itās important to point out that this is part of the filmās magic spell – because by making its physical environment essentially synonymous with its emotional one, Stolevskiās movie delivers its human truth without the unnecessary distraction of learning the ins and outs of a foreign cultural dynamic. The things we need to grasp, we do, without question, even if we donāt quite understand the full context, and what we walk away with in the end is a universally recognizable sense of family, carved in stark relief among a group of people who find it among themselves despite the lack of blood ties or common history to bind them to each other. That makes āHousehold for Beginnersā an unequivocal triumph in one way, at least, because by driving home that hard-to-convey understanding, it manages to underscore the injustice and inhumanity of any world in which the validity of a family is subject to the judgment of cultural bias.
Thatās not to say that āHousekeepingā is an unrelenting downer of political messaging. On the contrary, it is lifted by a clear imperative to show the joys of being part of such a family; the humor, the snark, the bright spots that arise even in the darkest moments ā all these are amply and aptly portrayed, making sure that we never feel like we are being fed a doom-and-gloom scenario. Rather, weāre being reminded that itās the visceral happiness that comes from being connected with those we love that matters far more than the rules and judgments of outsiders, which makes the hoops Dita and company have to jump through feel all the more absurd.
Though Stolevski, an Aussie citizen unspooling a narrative based in his country of origin, might not have intended it as such, the message of his film strikes a particular chord in 2024 America. The hardships of Dita and her brood as they try to simply stay together are a clear and pointed warning not to take for granted the hard-won freedoms that we have.
Add to that a superb collection of performances (BAFTA-winner Marinca and first-time actor Selim are standouts among the many), and you have another triumph from a young filmmaker whose reputation only gets more stellar with each effort.
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