Slices of Gay Life (Pride pt. X)

Weekend

A Single Man

Happy third week of Pride! Are we still feeling prideful, gay, and energized? Yeah, me neither, lol. Call it June Gloom, call it Summertime Sadness, call it being over rainbow capitalism—it’s not Pride’s fault that it happens to land on one of the hottest, most Gemini-infested months of the year. But if we lose energy and momentum now the worst of the straights win, so if you’re feeling “meh” right about now like I tend to, let’s both just try to listen to Cher’s advice and snap out of it! No matter how angsty I feel about the corporate greed displayed during this month, no matter how tiring the heat gets, watching a good movie or two always manages to pull me out of my funk and make me hopeful once again. I wouldn’t say that either of tonight’s films have the most hopeful stories to tell, however, the magical mundanity of these films add a necessary element of realism to the queer film canon. While I love maximalist, over-the-top movies with plenty of story and intrigue, I’m also a massive fan of simple films where it’s mostly just people talking. Both of tonight’s films give us glimpses into the daily lives of gay men, and while each film approaches their characters and storytelling differently, they both paint lovely, realistic pictures of queer personhood and community. So many portrayals of queer life are rightfully fabulous and thrilling but I wondered, as an overbearingly obnoxious ally, were there any slice-of-life kinds of depictions of queerness? Depictions that didn’t necessarily revolve around one’s sexuality, but one’s quiet, more intimate moments that are hardly represented? And that’s where I discovered Andrew Haigh’s 2011 film Weekend. Weekend follows a sweet, friendly man named Russell (Tom Cullen), who unexpectedly spends the whole weekend with Glen (Chris New), a man he picks up at a gay club one Friday night. Russell has a group of close friends, a steady job, and a nice apartment, however, we get the impression that Russell may not be feeling entirely happy, free, or himself. It’s not that Russell isn’t out of the closet, but when he meets the self-assured, loud, proud Glen, Russell realizes just how much he’s stifled himself. Russell and Glen are both attractive, smart, and kind gentleman, but it seems that Glen is the only one aware of this. Over the course of this weekend, though—as the two men talk about their preferences, their jobs, their friends, their desires, their dreams, if they like art, if they feel any shame, if they feel secure—the two men come to learn a lot about each other, and themselves. I could give you a play-by-play of everything that occurs in Weekend—how their sex was both hot and realistically awkward, how they smoked the skinniest joints I’ve ever seen, how they both shared such a profound intimacy through their conversations and explorations—but that would just lessen its impact. Weekend is a short, sweet film that didn’t need to be as deep and romantic as it was, but I’m so glad that it took us there. The way Andrew Haigh so succinctly shows us the casually-toxic masculine skew of the conversations of straight dudes, the pressure to be a certain type of lover or friend, the nerve-wracking excitement of meeting someone new, the discomfort of developing feelings and not knowing what to do with them, was just incredible. So many intangibly complex, hard-to-describe feelings are on display here, which was delightfully unexpected for a film with such a simple premise. Weekend is one of those quiet, calm, but utterly real films that I want to live inside of—the kind of film that you get lost in easily and then before you know it, it’s over. Not only am I not great at small talk, but I love having deep, existential conversations with friends and strangers, so this film really fed my soul in that way. I loved how the camera would shoot our protagonists, up close and personal. There would be crowded shots placed in between bodies on the subway or in the club, only giving us a small glimpse of these two and their conversations. This camerawork only added to Weekend’s sense of intimacy—I felt like I was right there with Russell and Glen, luckily being permitted to observe these special moments. Weekend is my favorite kind of romance: ill-fated, short-lived, but oh-so-meaningful. It provided me with a certain kind of longing that I yearn to see more of, the kind of once-in-a-lifetime love affair that the Before Sunrise series and Call Me By Your Name presented. Loud, out, and proud depictions of gay men are immensely paramount, however, I believe that the perspectives shown in Weekend are just as important and valid. Everyone has their own journey and pace with desire and sexuality, and thankfully, within queer storytelling, there is so much to be learned and appreciated about love, sex, and the perpetually-odd space of dating. Weekend left me with tears in my eyes, but I wouldn’t say that I was absolutely devastated. By the end of Russell and Glen’s weekend, you can tell the two have changed and evolved for the better, and as someone who’s always trying to grow and evolve herself, it was very inspiring and refreshing to see. One unfortunate inevitability of gay storytelling, though, is when tragedy strikes, just as it did with Tom Ford’s first film, his 2009 drama A Single Man. This is a film that I’ve wanted to see ever since the days of Tumblr, when I would see sleek, sexy gifs of Colin Firth looking downtrodden, but I avoided it for many many years. Not just because people shame me for loving Tom Ford’s other film, Nocturnal Animals, but because A Single Man was seemingly overwrought with sadness. And while the film does open with the words “The Weinstein Company Presents”, A Single Man was a sad movie that was entirely worth the watch. I had a feeling this film would break me, and it did, but I also had the distinct feeling that Tom Ford would provide us with a hot cast, an impeccable wardrobe and set design, and a script that oozed dynamic realism—and I was correct. A Single Man, based off of Christopher Isherwood’s 1964 novel of the same name, follows George Falconer—a middle-aged English professor living in Los Angeles in the early 1960s. We meet George just as he’s received the most earth-shattering news of his life: his partner of sixteen years, Jim (Matthew Goode), has died in a car accident, miles and miles away, where a funeral only for family will be held. Because this is a Tom Ford film, even this horrific car crash and George’s subsequent depression are presented in the most elegant way possible. We then see George wake up months later, pull a white shirt and perfectly-tailored suit from his organized, dust-free collection, look in the mirror and say “Just get through the god damn day”—a sentiment that can feel familiar. We then follow George through a typical day in his new, single life, receiving brief peeks into his once-blissful day-to-days with Jim. I’m not sure if I’ve ever cried this quickly at a tragic, gay love story, which is really saying something. Colin Firth just gives such a raw, realistically devastating performance that I couldn’t help but well up with tears, ten minutes into the film. But let’s talk about the good for a second. A Single Man has one of the hottest casts I’ve ever seen—Colin Firth (at his most beautiful), Matthew Goode, Lee Pace, Nicholas Hoult, Jon Kortajarena (the hottest judge ever on Drag Race Espana, in one of the sexiest meet-cute’s ever), Ginnifer Goodwin, Ryan Simpkins, and the only ally who shows up more than I do: Julianne Moore. Colin Firth and Julianne Moore’s characters are long-time besties from England, and embody a dynamic that I know well and hold close to my heart—that of a gay man and his hag. They’re both living dreary, dismal lives, though Tom Ford dresses them chicly and keeps them in bright aesthetics, they just cannot escape their respective senses of doom and gloom. As Julianne Moore says, “Can’t we just feel sorry for ourselves a little bit longer?”, another sentiment I know all too well. A Single Man is a tragic story, that doesn’t remain tragic throughout its entirety, but I did feel another gut-punch coming the whole time. Like Weekend, A Single Man offers so many profound and effectively interesting conversations, from interesting characters. I was utterly obsessed with the aesthetic of this film, naturally—the cars and clothes and furniture and bedding and music just felt so dazzling and so correct. And while critics often complain about Tom Ford’s style of directing, I actually love it. His emphasis upon eyes and fingers and other expressive parts of ourselves, the use of bold music and color and dark humor may come across a bit film-schooly, but that’s never bothered me because the stories he seeks to tell are always riveting. I’d expected this film to be somewhat superficial, just because of Tom Ford’s devoted dedication to making everyone look gorgeous, but this wasn’t the case. Each character felt real, each emotion felt warranted, and no matter which gloomy direction this film went, I still couldn’t predict where it was going. To quote Matt Rogers, “I can’t do grief”, but A Single Man offered a brilliant, sensitive, somewhat funny, timeless meditation on grief and loss—the likes of which I’ve never seen before. Though this film is set in the 1960s, there was zero time spent chastising or abusing these gay characters, instead they relished in their apparent “invisibility” from society—which was an interesting point of view to explore. There were, of course, several more punches to the gut by the end of A Single Man, but I do not regret watching it. And while I’d typically place this film in the category of “Movies I loved that I never need to see again”, there were just too many beautiful people, places, and moments for me to let go of. While there was no shortage of sadness in both of tonight’s films, there was also much to be appreciated and celebrated. I love a slice-of-life narrative, and I’m glad that they exist within a society that often pushes a one-size-fits-all approach to telling love stories. Thanks for reading along, friends, and I hope you’ll tune in next week for more good, gay movies!