The Film Experience™ was created by Nathaniel R. All material herein is written by our team. (This site is not for profit but for an expression of love for cinema & adjacent artforms.)
Doc Corner is celebrating Pride Month with a focus on documentaries that tackle LGBTIQ themes. This week a new documentary about transgender representation on screen, streaming on Netflix.
The Celluloid Closetcasts a long shadow over queer cinema in the 25 years since its release when it became an arthouse box office and Emmy-nominated sensation. That film by Rob Epstein (a two-time Oscar winner) and Jeffrey Friedman opened the world of film to new textural readings that many LGBTIQ viewers had known and talked about for years but remained largely quiet in the mainstream while traversing through to the then budding space that queer filmmakers and stories had carved by 1995. And for those young enough to come to the film as a budding LGBTIQ cinephile, it made for a hell of an introduction to movies.
There are always going to be gaps in a film like The Celluloid Closet and the new Netflix documentary Disclosure: Trans Lives on Screen from director Sam Feder attempts to fill them. All that and add a quarter of a century of cultural and societal changes on top...
Last week there were too many questions we wanted to answer to fit it all into one post so here's a second round up of eight reader questions and brief answers. Ahem. (One answer is most definitely not brief.)
MATT ST CLAIR: When I saw Laura Linney in the trailer for Sully, my heart sank because it saddened me to see another great actress stuck in those stock "wife worrying over the phone" roles. When do you think Hollywood will ever get tired of seeing older women portrayed as supportive wifes or mothers and let more of them be in charge of their own stories?
How I wish I had a good answer to this. The answer might be a more diverse body of people telling stories because then chances are slightly better that it won't always be straight white 30-50something men as protagonists. Now, it's worth noting that it's been largely straight white men directing movies for about 100 years now and there were periods, long before our modern one, when men in charge of storytelling were interested in women and knew how to showcase them. I don't know what happened to make the alpha directors so disinterested in women's stories but whatever it was, I hate it. I guess it changed around the time Scorsese, Coppola, and Spielberg all exploded into fame together (not that we're blaming them) and none of them happened to have much interest in the ladies beyond a key atypical project each. As time wore on into the 80s and 90s less and less female projects were made. Give us more descendants of William Wyler, Douglas Sirk, and Alfred Hitchcock, Hollywood! We've got enough Spielberg & Scorsese acolytes to last another 50 years.
JAMES FROM AMES: What character actor's performance was so good it made you go from "hey, it's that guy" to "who is THAT?" and start following their work? For me: Mary Kay Place just floored me in Being John Malkovich. I was so pleased when she popped up in Lady Dynamite this year.
Mary Kay Place on the 7½ floor in "Being John Malkovich"
On this, the day of Boy George's 50th birthday, we propose a biopic. After all, Hollywood is quite fond of musician biopics what with their formulaic three act story beats: rise from talent-individuality-chutzpah, fall from drugs and debauchery, miniature or major comebacks as the performer finds themselves again.
So why is it that someone as fab and movie-character ready as Boy George doesn't have his own biopic? He's already written all of the wittiest lines for some future screenwriter, being one of the quippiest of '80s icons. He's already conjured the movie's most memorable costumes. He's already even provided a rough draft blueprint with his own autobiographical musical, Taboo (2004).
Now, Taboo was historically not a success on Broadway but we chalk this up to its difficult developmental period, clashing egos and press animosity (sometimes the media just turns on something and there's only a war zone from there). It's not that the show wasn't entertaining enough to be a success. It was actually a fierce show, just an intermittently clumsy overstuffed one. But my oh my the music was good. In addition to Boy George's own discography (formidable, duh) he wrote new songs for the bifurcated musical, which managed to be two biopics in one by juxtaposing Boy's rise with the life of performance artist Leigh Bowery .
The pop star did star in his own biopic but he cheekily played Leigh Bowery instead, so here's a press clip below of the show and his title track performance. [Note: I meant to write about the documentary about this very lively Broadway season Showbusiness: The Road to Broadway (2007) which also charts behemoths Wicked and Avenue Q and the wondrous Caroline or Change but the DVD didn't arrive in time, damnit.]
I remember sitting in the audience in a very cramped Broadway house. The tourist to my left turned towards me at intermission.: "IT'S OVER?!?!?" she said, panicking, clearly new to seeing live theater and there for Boy George himself (she was wearing an old Culture Club t-shirt). I pulled her back from the edge "there's more Boy to come."
For all of Boy George's personal problems, he's a smart enough star to understand his own rise and fall. There's a heartbreaking number in the show called "Out of Fashion" and, yes, Boy George still is. But in this Age of Gaga, maybe pop culture out to rediscover the gonzo theatrical originals that paved the way? There's a long line of "what will they look like next?" superstars before her: Bowie, Boy, Madonna, etcetera...
For extro-music here's Boy's video from pop culture / Oscar milestone The Crying Game (1992).
(That would've have so won the Oscar for Best Original Song had it not been a cover of an oldie.) I haven't seen The Crying Game in far too long, how about you?
Wednesday, June 17, 2020 at 1:36PM 
The Celluloid Closet casts a long shadow over queer cinema in the 25 years since its release when it became an arthouse box office and Emmy-nominated sensation. That film by Rob Epstein (a two-time Oscar winner) and Jeffrey Friedman opened the world of film to new textural readings that many LGBTIQ viewers had known and talked about for years but remained largely quiet in the mainstream while traversing through to the then budding space that queer filmmakers and stories had carved by 1995. And for those young enough to come to the film as a budding LGBTIQ cinephile, it made for a hell of an introduction to movies.
