My Magnificent 'Aliens' Obsession
Thursday, July 14, 2011 at 9:20PM 
Kurt here.
Some boys of a certain persuasion – which is to say young gay cinephiles – may have found themselves a kindred, tuneful spirit in Fanny Brice, or fed their fabulous longings with [insert stereotypical icon here]. More power to 'em. For me, though, it was always about Ellen Ripley, Lt. First Class. For my boundless Ripley love, I have to at least partially thank a cocktail of deep-seeded denial and flamboyance rejection, as I was much more prepared to accept an angry woman with a gun as my savior than a ballad-belting showboat. I didn't want Schwarzenegger, but I wasn't ready for Cher. And I certainly have no regrets.
Since I wasn't donning feather boas, I'm sure my parents didn't think much of it when I began strapping toy rifles together with all manner of black plastic tubes and electrical tape, so as to recreate that shell-firing, flame-throwing, grenade-launching monstrosity that Ripley uses to resurface the industrial spaces on LV-426 (if memory serves, a black snorkel was even used as an extra gun barrel). I doubt I tripped their gaydar when I put two four-legged ottomans flush against the living room chair, then proceeded to crawl on the floor, weapon in hand, through my improvised air shaft.
Was I in drag? No. But make no mistake – I was diva-channeling.
Aliens, far and away my favorite action movie of all time, was also a liberating gay outlet long before I knew I was gay. That inherent gay need to fall headfirst in love with glorious females of outsized character was more than fulfilled by this watershed movie of womanly badassness. And my obsession with it spread well beyond playacting with plastic rifles. I regularly whipped up drawings of Ripley and those H.R. Giger beasties (I dug up some of them for this post).
I was close with these twin brothers at one point, and our friendship was pretty much based on our mutual Aliens enthusiasm – that, and the fact that they had all the action figures, even the yellow power-loader thingie. The twins' backyard was home to many an Aliens reenactment, with each of us alternating the role of James Cameron (“Okay – you be Hudson, and you be Vasquez!”). The guys never knew I was actually getting my Barbie on.
Her highnessMy mother was pregnant with my sister when she went to see Alien with my dad in 1979 (needless to say, she henceforth had a nightmare-filled pregnancy). This story has never made much sense to me, as I'm certainly the one who seems to have been psychically willed into Alien Saga obsession from the womb, not my sister. My sister doesn't even like SigWeavie. “She's ugly,” she says. (Oh yes, she did.)
Of the many gifts I've received from this franchise, the most cherished is a lifelong interest in Sigourney (who is not ugly, Heather). You'll see in the doodles that I was particularly fond of her jawline, which, by my hand, is ridiculously pronounced. I like to pretend that this masculine feature had a hand in getting Siggy the job in the first place, and I don't even know where to begin in addressing the sexual themes I suddenly realize it might represent for me. That's a lot of implications for one little post...
All this, and I haven't said a lick about Aliens's greatness as a film. I have
no idea how many times I've seen it, and it's a long movie to have watched so repeatedly. I can honestly say there's not a single part that bores me, not even the mess hall conversations or the Ripley-can't-sleep prelude. This is a film that gets up, gets going and keeps going. It is notable for so much more than its titular nemeses, yet I can't pick a better creature feature (for Best Shot, which I sadly didn't participate in, I choose the pan that reveals the enormity of the alien queen, in her lair, on her throne – it's absolutely jaw-dropping). I think the best way I've ever heard Aliens described is that it has a beating heart – a racing pulse that's palpable. I'd say that it's certainly close to my heart, but that might sound kinda gay.
Aliens, James Cameron, LGBT, Sigourney Weaver, childhood
Reader Comments (10)
omg i totally heart this. I think movies as personal history is just beautiful in general but this story is BAM. especially given your sister's cameo. haha. but boy is she wrong about the wonderful SigWeavie.
LOVE THE DRAWINGS especially that chin one. you must have been really invested in that sketch to go full color ;)
I didn't know Aliens had yielded a line of action figures, or I would have wanted them immediately. I made do by re-reading Alan Dean Foster's novelization of the movie over and over, and re-watching it on HBO as though my life depended on it. Which it might have done, for all the reasons you describe! I feel uncannily close to the way you do about Aliens and would only add my proto-gay crush on soft-spoken but supremely competent, un-sexist, and notably attractive Hicks as related evidence. Get this rumor out there! Aliens is where the gay starts!
God bless the internet: one of the twins, whom I haven't talked to in ages, saw this link on Facebook, recognized the tale, and said he was honored to be included in the piece. Quote: "you never tripped my gaydar -- I was too busy killing aliens." Love it.
Kurtis -- i feel like that blurb should go on posters or something. lol.
Nick -- thanks for chiming in. I knew that Kurt could not been alone here... though i love the piece specifically because it surprised me and was so personal/specific. Alas... I had no similar experience though I do lovelovelove the movie. That year I was too obsessed with Hannah and Her Sisters and A Room With a View to get really obsessed with anything else.
I love when a relly good Genre performance can get recognized by Oscar noms in the acting cateorgies :-)
God Kurt you could so be describing me. I remember spending hours drawing face-huggers as a kid, and wishing that Ripley was my Mom. My lifetime obsessing with ballbusters can clearly be traced back to her. Sigourney was (is still) just the ultimate. I can't believe you could dig up those drawings, that's so rad. Now you've got me wanting to go rifle through boxes at my parents' house.
As an aside which you reminded me of, I always hold it close to my heart that my parents first date was a trip to see The Exorcist.
Hmm. I realized my orientation reading The Bone People at 18. Related to film: The asexual canon in the cinema consists, really, of 3 movies:
1. The Red Shoes: Boris Lermontov is a man suffering from libido jealousy who wants to suppress all the lust around him.
2. Withnail and I: The ending speech, quoted from Shakespeare, has a double purpose. 1. Shows how good an actor Withnail could be if he focused and 2. Is readable as a coming out speech denoting that he's not just asexual but also aromantic.
3. There Will Be Blood: If you've been here a long time reading comments, you know how much I hate this noxious stereotype. The kind of thing that, um, directorial abandonment is made of.
Loved reading this! I'd never have related in a million years gayness and Aliens/Sigourney, but loved it.
The bits I remember from this movie are some terrible dialogue lines (what's wrong with Cameron and dialogues? why doesn't he hire someone to fix that? his movies could be so much better...) and the 80s look. I guess I'm more of the first movie.
I'm more of the first one too. I even prefer Fincher's!
Cameron is so obvious
deep-seated
Don't mind me. I love your piece. It reminds me of my own female film obessions. Way too many to go into. God bless the gay boys and the women they love.