Arts & Entertainment
In diverse slate of winners, Oscar is the biggest loser
Best Actor winner Anthony Hopkins (center) with co-star Olivia Colman in “The Father” (image courtesy Sony Pictures Classics)
We knew the Academy Awards were going to be different this year.
Forced by Covid to reimagine its traditional presentation format, the movie industry’s most prestigious awards show convened not at Hollywood’s Dolby Theatre — at least, not for most of it — and opted instead to broadcast the ceremony from the relative intimacy of Los Angeles’ historic Union Station, where a small audience of nominees, presenters and guests gathered under “live set” safety protocols while other participants connected from various remote hook-ups across the world. Instead of auditorium seating, tables; instead of an orchestra, Questlove. In addition, show producers Steven Soderbergh, Jesse Collins, and Stacy Sher chose to shoot the event cinematically, employing the tricks and techniques of film to transform the evening from the stodgy affair so many of us love to hate into something resembling a movie. As promised during the week ahead of the broadcast, the show was going to tell a “story.”
It was a gamble that didn’t pay off.
Things started out promisingly enough, it must be said, with an opening tracking shot that followed host Regina King from the bright L.A. sunshine into the cool darkness of Union Station. The motion, the music, and most of all King’s commanding presence, gave us the sense that something big was about to happen. Then, early in her opening comments to the audience, King brought substance to the weight by commenting that “if things had gone differently in Minneapolis this week, I might’ve traded in my heels for marching boots” — reminding us (as if it were needed) of the national focus on Black justice that hung alongside Oscar’s long-lamented struggle with diversity like a shadow over the evening. The central theme of this Oscar “movie,” it seemed, had been firmly established.
For awhile, it seemed to be working. The evening’s first winners were Emerald Fennell for Best Original Screenplay, for “Promising Young Woman,” and Florian Zeller for Best Adapted Screenplay, for “The Father,” appearing to set a tone for the ceremony in which recognition would be spread around to all — something very much in tune with the presumed subplot of the “story” we were being told, in which Oscar would redeem itself from the #OscarsSoWhite associations of its past and prove itself to be a champion for fair and equal diversity, after all.
Soon after, Daniel Kaluuya took the award for Best Supporting Actor – no surprise there, as his performance as slain Black Panther leader Fred Hampton in “Judas and the Black Messiah” had won the equivalent prize from every other major film awards so far — firmly establishing the “redemption” theme by celebrating the powerful work of a Black actor in a true-life story that addressed the corruption and tragedy of systemic racism in America. A pair of awards for “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” (Best Makeup and Styling, Best Costume Design), as well as a win for the police-violence-themed “Two Distant Strangers” as Best Live-Action Short, reinforced it even further. Better still, a shout-out to trans acceptance from “Ma Rainey” stylist Mia Neal in her speech, and a plea from “Strangers” writer/director Travon Free for audiences not to be “indifferent to our pain” in his, lent a powerful sense of earnestness that made the whole thing feel authentic. Maybe this year, Oscar was finally getting it right.
Unfortunately, the Oscar “story,” in its effort to be inclusive, allowed all the winners to talk until they were done. In other words, Questlove did not start playing anyone off when they had used up their time, and the ambitious “movie” of the Oscars soon began lose any momentum it had built. This is not to say that the winners don’t deserve their time in the spotlight, or that some of the things that were said were not worthy of being heard; but anyone in show business should know the importance of keeping your audience interested, and the Academy Awards have such a long history of running ponderously overtime that it seems some kind of middle ground might have been reached.
There were other familiar complaints, too. The annual “in memoriam” segment inevitably left out some important names (Ann Reinking, Jessica Walter, “Glee” star Naya Rivera, and former Oscar nominee songwriter Adam Schlesinger, to name just a few), and there was an awkward segment in which Questlove played “Oscar trivia” with audience members, who were asked to identify movie songs that did NOT win the Academy Award. The latter situation was almost saved by nominee Glenn Close, who did an “impromptu” rendition of “Da Butt” that was as goofily charming as it was obviously pre-planned.
As the show wore on, the cinematic conceit chosen to revitalize the proceedings became mostly irrelevant in the face of Oscar’s usual baggage. Further, the absence of any performances of the year’s nominated songs, typically a favorite feature of fans at home, meant there was little respite from the dullness, which was made all the more apparent by the increasingly bored faces of the onscreen audience. The omission may have been due to the difficult logistics of additional Covid protocols, but surely pre-taped performances might have helped to perk things up. For the record, Best Original Song went to “Fight For You,” from “Judas and the Black Messiah.”
Along the way, there were noteworthy wins. The much-loved Pixar-Disney film “Soul” took the award for Best Animated Feature, as well as winning Best Original Score for composers Trent Reznor, Atticus Ross, and Jon Batiste; the virally popular “My Octopus Teacher” won for Best Documentary Feature; David Fincher’s black-and-white old-Hollywood homage “Mank” took the prizes for Best Production Design and Best Cinematography, continuing the trend of spreading out the wealth among the front-running contenders; in presenting Best Film Editing to “The Sound of Metal,” still-hunky Hollywood curmudgeon Harrison Ford gave an amusing nod to “Blade Runner,” the revered 1982 sci-fi film in which he starred, by reading the scathingly negative studio notes from a pre-release screening; and Best Supporting Actress went to veteran performer Yuh-Jung Youn for her work in “Minari,” making her only the second woman of Asian heritage to win the award (the first was Miyoshi Umeki for 1957’s “Sayanora”) — and making Close, who was nominated for her role in “Hillbilly Elegy,” tied with Peter O’Toole as the actor with the most nods without a single win.
By the time we reached the presentation of the four top prizes, there was little left of whatever enthusiasm had been drummed up by the opening segment of the show. Chloe Zhao’s expected win as Best Director, for “Nomadland,” making her the first Asian-American woman (and only the second woman, period) to receive the award, was an appreciated high point for her enthusiastic gratitude alone, but at this point, things had become pretty much business as usual, despite the grand designs and cinematic flourishes of the producers.
Then, the big twist came. Best Picture, always the final award of the evening, was being announced before the Lead Acting awards. What was happening? Was the Oscar “movie” about to give us a surprise ending?
The winner, “Nomadland,” had been favored, and star Frances McDormand helped to make the moment a highlight with a “wolf” howl (dedicated to sound mixer Michael “Wolf” Snyder, who passed away last month) when she joined the film’s other producers at the podium, but surely neither of those things warranted switching the order. Perhaps a clue to what was really happening could be found in the choice of presenter – Hollywood icon Rita Moreno, still fabulous at 89, whose Best Supporting Actress win for 1961’s “West Side Story” happened to have made her the first Hispanic woman to win an Oscar. Was this reminder of diversity from the Academy’s past a sign that the “redemption” theme was about to pay off?
It suddenly became obvious. The Oscar “movie” was leading up to an emotional finale, a big and uplifting triumph that would not only be a celebration of diversity, but a tribute to a gifted young man whose talents had been taken away from us too soon. The story of Oscar’s redemption would culminate in the posthumous awarding of the Best Actor prize to Chadwick Boseman, whose nominated performance in “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” was the last work he completed before losing his private battle with colon cancer and passing away at 43 last August. That would definitely be a “wow” finish.
Best Actress came first, accompanied by some suspense due to being one of the few categories without a clear front-runner. McDormand took the statue for “Nomadland,” joining a small handful of other performers as a three-time-winner and preventing “Ma Rainey” star Viola Davis from becoming the first Black actress to win twice. Her speech was refreshingly short and humble, a tribute to the joy of “the work” which included a quote from Shakespeare’s “Macbeth” (“My voice is in my sword”) – a play considered by actors worldwide to be “cursed,” which in retrospect casts an interesting light on what happened next.
To present the final award, last year’s Best Actor winner Joaquin Phoenix (looking exceptionally uncomfortable) came to the mike and, after a feeble joke about his reputation for method acting, read off the five nominees before opening the envelope to bring about the now much-anticipated denouement.
“And the Oscar goes to… Anthony Hopkins, ‘The Father.’”
It wasn’t quite “fade to black, roll credits” after that, but it might as well have been.
There was no uplifting finale, no redemption of the Academy as a reward for its show of diversity. There was only another in a long-running series of gaffes (remember the “La La Land” vs. “Moonlight” debacle from just a few years back?) that have made the Oscar show’s tendency to mess things up a running joke.
This one, however, was possibly the worst. In an arrogant attempt to shape a narrative out of real life events that hadn’t even happened yet, the Academy seems to have chosen to manipulate its audience into an emotional reaction — one that would have bolstered its own reputation and perhaps made up for some of its former perceived missteps — while exhibiting a cynical overconfidence in its own ability to predict the sentiments of its voters. As a result, its “wow” finish turned into an abrupt and uncomfortable faux pas, diminishing both Hopkins’ victory for a career-topping performance (which, at 83, makes him the oldest acting winner in Oscar history) and Boseman’s searingly powerful work by obscuring their accomplishments behind a colossal f*ck-up born of its own hubris.
It’s worth noting that a plan was (reportedly) in place in the supposedly “unlikely” event that Hopkins would win, in which “Father” co-star Colman – known for her disarming grace and humor in awards situations – would have accepted the award in his absence. As reported by The Guardian, Phoenix forgot to call her to the stage, resulting in the dull thud that was the end of the 93rd Academy Awards. Regardless, the Academy has only itself to blame. In its eagerness to tell the story it wanted to tell about itself, it appears to have forgotten that you have to know the ending first.
Ironically, when removed from all the drama, the list of winners does represent one of the most diverse and inclusive slates in Oscar history. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.
On that note, as a final observation, the LGBTQ community, despite recent strides in being acknowledged by Oscar, went largely unacknowledged at this year’s ceremony, with queer front-runners like “Two of Us” (a French contender for Best International Feature) and David France’s devastating “Welcome to Chechnya” (shortlisted for Best Documentary Feature) having been shut out of the nominations and no significant queer content among most of the nominated films. Apart from Neal’s aforementioned invocation of trans acceptance as part of a possible future in which the recognition of all women for their achievements would be “normal,” the only other time we came up was during Tyler Perry’s acceptance speech for the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award.
Perry, whose highly popular films are frequently criticized for embracing borderline homophobic and transphobic humor and perpetuating problematic tropes about gender and sexuality, gave a speech calling for people to “refuse to hate” anyone “because they are Mexican, or because they are Black or White, or LBGTQ” or “because they are a police officer” or “because they are Asian.” Apart from the conflation of being a police officer (a choice) with being an LGBTQ person or a person of color (not a choice), the fact that he mixed up the “B” and the “G” is a clear indicator that, while he may refuse to hate us, he’s not exactly a committed ally, either.
If the LGBTQ angle seems like a footnote to the story, that’s because it is. Once more, the queer community is left feeling like an uninvited guest by the Academy.
If Oscar wants its story to be about diversity, it’s clear that next year’s “story” needs some better writers.
Photos
PHOTOS: Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Parade
48th annual LGBTQ event held in Australian city
The 48th annual Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Parade was held on Feb. 28.
(Photos by Cori Mitchell)
a&e features
35 years after ‘Truth or Dare,’ Slam is still dancing
Salim Gauwloos on Madonna, HIV, and why he almost didn’t audition for Blond Ambition Tour
Most gay men of a certain age remember “the kiss.”
It was the moment Madonna’s dancers Salim Gauwloos and Gabriel Trupin locked lips in the hit 1991 documentary film “Truth or Dare,” which is celebrating its 35th anniversary this spring.
The kiss was hot, but what made it groundbreaking is that it appeared in a mainstream Hollywood movie that screened in suburban multiplexes across the country. This wasn’t an obscure art house film. The movie, and tour on which it was based, received months of breathless media attention all over the world for bold expressions of female empowerment and queer visibility. Madonna was threatened with arrest in Toronto for simulating masturbation on stage and Pope John Paul II urged Catholics to boycott the show, triggering a media firestorm.
“Truth or Dare” was billed as a behind-the-scenes documentary of the tour, but it quickly became clear that the real star of the show wasn’t Madonna, but rather her colorful troupe of seven backup dancers, six of whom identified as gay: Kevin Stea, Carlton Wilborn, Luis Xtravaganza Camacho, Jose Gutierez Xtravaganza, Gauwloos, and Trupin; Oliver Crumes III identifies as straight.
We saw them party and march in the New York City Pride parade. They were unabashedly queer at a dangerous time — before protease inhibitors began to stem the AIDS plague and before most celebrities and politicians embraced the gay community in any real way. Being out in 1991 carried major risks to career and reputation.
Enter Gauwloos, one of those brave dancers who vogued his way into the hearts of countless gay men entranced by his handsome looks, his stage presence, and dance skills.
Gauwloos — known then and now as “Slam”— sat down with the Blade to talk Madonna, the lasting impact of “Truth or Dare,” the public disclosure of his HIV status, and plans for a new book on his life.
His story is fascinating — from growing up in Europe to dancing in New York to landing the gig of a lifetime with Madonna. He performed on that tour while secretly HIV positive and went without medical treatment for 10 years because he was living in the United States as an undocumented immigrant. Not even Madonna knew of his HIV status. Two other dancers on the tour were also HIV positive but no one talked about it. Ironically, Madonna was singing “Express Yourself” and advocating for condom use during her concerts yet backstage three of her dancers were secretly positive.
“A lot of people were dying so I wasn’t going to tell Madonna I had HIV,” said Slam, now 57. “And the others didn’t either. It wasn’t the moment to do it. She used to make speeches about Keith Haring and AIDS and I thought it’s going to be me next.”
Gabriel Trupin died of AIDS in 1995. Slam was diagnosed at age 18 in 1987, a frightening time when a positive test result often meant a death sentence. He booked the “Blond Ambition Tour” at age 21 after moving to New York. His friends encouraged him to audition but Slam resisted because he wasn’t a big Madonna fan.
“It was crazy, everyone wanted that job,” he said, “but I wanted to dance with Janet Jackson and Paula Abdul.” He listened to his friends and shortly after the audition, Slam received a call from Madonna herself inviting him to join the tour.
“We all wanted to be stars but not even Madonna knew how big that tour would become. The way it was choreographed and directed, the stars aligned. … It never looks dated even today.”
The world tour kicked off in Japan in April 1990 then moved to the United States and Europe, stirring controversy wherever it went. There was the iconic cone bra; the aforementioned simulated masturbation during “Like a Virgin”; and religious imagery that offended many Catholic groups and the Vatican.
And the controversy didn’t end with the tour. Cameras were rolling throughout the tour for what Slam thought would be a “video memory” for Madonna. But as the tour unfolded, director Alek Keshishian reportedly became more interested in what was happening behind the scenes so plans for mere tour footage were expanded into a full documentary.
“We were young and partying and didn’t really know what was going on,” Slam said. “You live in this celebrity bubble and you sign a paper – I don’t even know what I signed.”
In 1992, Kevin, Oliver, and Gabriel sued Madonna for invasion of privacy and fraud claiming she used some footage without their consent. They claim they were told nothing would be included in the film that they didn’t want to be seen. In one specific incident, Gabriel alleged that he told producers he didn’t want the scene of him kissing Slam to be in the film as he wasn’t fully out.
“Gabriel was forcibly outed,” in the movie, Kevin said in a 2016 interview.
Slam did not join his colleagues in the lawsuit.
“I couldn’t sue because I was illegal but I wasn’t ever going to sue,” Slam said. “I’m not a suing kind of person. But good for them, they fought for it and won. A lot of people don’t have the balls to sue Madonna.” The suit was settled two years later for an undisclosed sum.
“We were all conflicted about the kiss,” he said with a laugh. “The kiss, oh my God, my boyfriend is going to kill me! Belgian stress!”
Beyond worrying about his boyfriend’s reaction, Slam had concerns about the impact of being openly gay on his modeling career.
“In 1990, you couldn’t get high fashion campaigns as an openly gay model,” he said. “I was worried about that. I couldn’t get a campaign because I was gay. My agency told me to say I was straight and it was just a game.”
In 2016, pegged to the 25th anniversary of “Truth or Dare,” the surviving six dancers filmed a documentary about their lives post-Madonna titled “Strike A Pose.” In it, Slam publicly revealed his HIV status for the first time in an emotional scene with his former colleagues.
“I found the strength to tell the world I have HIV,” he recalls. “I was scared but I felt brave. The outcome and messages were beautiful. After I saw ‘Strike A Pose,’ I knew we gave people hope. And not just for gay people.”
He was infected in 1987 but didn’t get treated until 1997. After the tour ended, he said he went into a depression and his agency dropped him.
“I was partying too much after the tour,” he recalls. “I made a decision to live as an illegal alien.” In 1997, Slam collapsed and was rushed to the hospital with pneumonia.
“They started treating me and thank God the new HIV drugs were out, the cocktails, it took me a couple months to get better.”
Madonna didn’t participate in “Strike A Pose” and Slam said he hasn’t seen or spoken to her since the end of the tour. He said he had no idea of the impact “Truth or Dare” would have.
“You look at this movie in 1991 and you don’t think it’s going to be such a big thing and 35 years later it’s still helping people,” he said. “It was helpful for people who felt alone at that time. It was such an important documentary.
“I don’t think younger gay people realize how important Madonna was to gay and queer visibility — she was a big part of it. We showed the world it’s OK to be gay and that was the great message of this movie.”
He noted that, decades later, many of his friends have transgender kids and that queer culture is represented in much of mainstream pop culture.
“It’s amazing how far we’ve come,” he said. “I know we’ll always be marginalized but we have come so far. I’m really proud of our community. The current nightmare will be over and I do believe that things will get better.”
Referencing President Trump’s attacks on the LGBTQ community and crackdown on immigration, Slam described the situation in the U.S. today as “sad.”
“Everything is such a mess,” he said. “Some of these people have lived here 30-40 years and they take you out of your home. I can’t even imagine. It breaks my heart. When I was illegal it was a different story.”
Slam met his husband, Facundo Gabba, who’s from Argentina, in 2000, and he helped him get a legal case together to win citizenship. He filed a case in 2001 and was told there was a 99 percent chance he wouldn’t be permitted to stay in the United States because they weren’t allowing HIV-positive immigrants to remain in the country. But he got his green card anyway in 2005 and became a U.S. citizen in 2012.
Today, Slam and Gabba live in Brooklyn, though they travel a lot because “I can’t take the cold.” The couple married in Argentina in 2010 and in the U.S. in 2016.
Slam is still dancing and working as a choreographer. He’s teaching at a contemporary dance festival in Vienna in July and even offers online lessons via Salimdans.com.
As a longtime HIV survivor, Slam is dedicated to a healthful lifestyle.
“You have to keep moving; when you move you stay healthy,” he says. “Dance heals everything. I do yoga, I eat healthy and clean as possible. I don’t watch much TV … I try to stay healthy and positive. If I absorb all of the negativity I would be sick.”
In addition to his ongoing work in dance and choreography, Slam is in the early stages of writing a book about his extraordinary life and pioneering career.
“I always knew I had a book inside of me. I want to talk about my HIV status. I know I can inspire more people. I want to tell even more secrets in the book; secrets are a poison so I want to tell everything.”
Among those secrets, he notes, is a desire to write about his strict Muslim father and the years he spent as an undocumented immigrant in America.
“Those are the things I want to talk about, the struggles. It’s a love story, hope and resilience. I know it will help people.”
As for his friends from the tour, Slam says he remains in contact with Gabriel’s mother and José Xtravaganza is his best friend. Baltimore’s Center Stage theater is currently developing a new musical about Xtravaganza’s life. And Slam said he occasionally talks to Oliver, though “he still can’t pronounce Sandra Bernhard’s name.”
At the end of our interview, Slam indulged a round a rapid fire questions:
• Favorite song to perform in the “Blond Ambition” tour? “Express Yourself.”
• Aside from Madonna, who was your favorite artist you worked with? Toni Braxton in “Aida” on Broadway.
• Favorite Madonna song? “Live to Tell”
• Favorite Madonna video? “Bedtime Stories”
• What’s more stressful: performing in a concert or performing on the VMAs? “Both, because we always had to be perfect.”
• Did you go to Madonna’s recent “Celebration” tour? “I didn’t see the show but I saw clips online.”
• What do you remember most about performing “Vogue” at the VMAs? “It was nerve-racking for them to flip those fans.”
• When was the last time you vogued? “I teach classes so a couple weeks ago.”
Books
Love or fear flying you’ll devour ‘Why Fly’
New book chronicles a lifetime obsession with aircraft
‘Why Fly’
By Caroline Paul
c. 2026, Bloomsbury
$27.99/256 pages
Tray table folded up.
Check. Your seat is in the upright position, the airflow above your head is just the way you like it, and you’re ready to go. The flight crew is making final preparations. The lights are off and the plane is backing up. All you need now is “Why Fly” by Caroline Paul, and buckle up.
When she was very young, Paul was “obsessed” with tales of adventure, devouring accounts written by men of their derring-do. The only female adventure-seeker she knew about then was Amelia Earhart; later, she learned of other adventuresome women, including aviatrix Bessie Coleman, and Paul was transfixed.
Time passed; Paul grew up to create a life of adventure all her own.
Then, the year her marriage started to fracture, she switched her obsession from general exploits to flight.
Specifically, Paul loves experimental aircraft, some of which, like her “trike,” can be made from a kit at home. Others, like Woodstock, her beloved yellow gyrocopter, are major purchases that operate under different FAA rules. All flying has rules, she says, even if it seems like it should be as freewheeling as the birds it mimics.
She loves the pre-flight checklist, which is pure anticipation as well as a series of safety measures; if only a relationship had the same ritual. Paul loves her hangar, as a place of comfort and for flight in all senses of the word. She enjoys thinking about historic tales of flying, going back before the Wright Brothers, and including a man who went aloft on a lawn chair via helium-filled weather balloons.
The mere idea that she can fly any time is like a gift to Paul.
She knows a lot of people are terrified of flying, but it’s near totally safe: generally, there’s a one in almost 14 million chance of perishing in a commercial airline disaster – although, to Paul’s embarrassment and her dismay, it’s possible that both the smallest planes and the grandest loves might crash.
If you’re a fan of flying, you know what to do here. If you fear it, pry your fingernails off the armrests, take a deep breath, and head to the shelves. “Why Fly” might help you change your mind.
It’s not just that author Caroline Paul enjoys being airborne, and she tells you. It’s not that she’s honest in her explanations of being in love and being aloft. It’s the meditative aura you’ll get as you’re reading this book that makes it so appealing, despite the sometimes technical information that may flummox you between the Zen-ness. It’s not overwhelming; it mixes well with the history Paul includes, biographies, the science, heartbreak, and exciting tales of adventure and risk, but it’s there. Readers and romantics who love the outdoors, can’t resist a good mountain, and crave activity won’t mind it, though, not at all.
If you own a plane – or want to – you’ll want this book, too. It’s a great waiting-at-the-airport tale, or a tuck-in-your-suitcase-for-later read. Find “Why Fly” and you’ll see that it’s an upright kind of book.
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35 years after ‘Truth or Dare,’ Slam is still dancing
