Summer Romances

The Talented Mr. Ripley

Mississippi Masala

Salutations, my sultry, Summer readers. The Summer season is often romanticized in cinema and other art forms, so it has naturally been the backdrop for countless steamy romances throughout history. And while Summer personally makes me feel sweaty, disgusting, and frustrated, I can always get behind the idea of a sexy Summer fling—especially when it’s happening on a screen, in an air-conditioned room. One of my favorite books and films of all time, Call Me By Your Name, is distinctly a Summer romance, as is Mamma Mia!, The Notebook, The To-Do List, and Dirty Dancing. But then there are the Summer films that are not explicitly or exclusively romantic, and yet romance cannot help blooming, as in The Long, Hot Summer, White Men Can’t Jump, Hannah Takes the Stairs, Blue Crush, or Twister. To quote Kristen Doute on episode one of The Valley, “Something about Summers, man. Makes people crazy”, and in that spirit, I wanted to explore some Summer stories that are incredibly sexy and romantic, in spite of all of the chaos happening around them. Tonight’s first film would be described as many things before it would be described as romantic—mysterious, thrilling, twisted, perhaps—but it is nonetheless romantic: Anthony Minghella’s 1999 adaptation of The Talented Mr. Ripley. I’m a big fan of Patricia Highsmith, who wrote the novel Strangers on a Train, and I somehow only found out recently that she also wrote The Talented Mr. Ripley. The film transports us to New York City in 1958, where a young, poor piano player named Tom Ripley (Matt Damon) is approached by shipping magnate Herbert Greenleaf. Herbert gathers that Tom attended Princeton, where his son Dickie just graduated, and assumes that Tom and Dickie were peers. Herbert laments that his son has run off with some girl to Italy, quickly blowing through all of his allowance, and has an odd but perplexing proposition for Tom—he wants to send him to Italy to convince Dickie to come home to New York. With a payment of $1,000 and a first class ticket to Europe, Tom is off rather quickly—having studied everything he could about Dickie before arriving. When he lands in Italy, Tom almost immediately spots the gorgeous Dickie (Jude Law) and his gorgeous gal Marge (Gwyneth Paltrow) with his binoculars. With unwarranted confidence Tom walks up to the young, blonde couple on the beach and giddily says, “Dickie! It’s Tom! Tom Ripley!” Dickie and Marge are clearly confused, and Dickie doesn’t seem to remember Tom, chocking it up to the fact that, “Princeton’s like a fog. America’s like a fog”, in the most pretentious manner possible. This conversation leads to Marge inviting Tom to lunch, where Dickie immediately uses Tom as a bartender, and as someone to yell douchey things at, to which Tom is happy to oblige. This trio very swiftly becomes friends, bonding over their shared love of jazz, and their shared annoyance with America and New York. Very steadily, Dickie becomes supremely charmed by Tom—how someone of such a similar pedigree and fortune could be so uncultured and unpracticed in life. And Tom is thoroughly charmed by Dickie—how much he means to his family, to Marge, and his various mistresses, and how this golden boy can seemingly get away with anything. Plus, his swimming pool pupils, honey-glazed curly hair, and tight little body definitely add to the attraction. In many ways, Dickie and Tom both sweep each other off their respective feet, with Dickie introducing Tom to different cultures and music, and with Tom being the complimentary, agreeable sidekick for Dickie. Throughout the film, this trio dives in and out of throuple-behavior, and Dickie comes to really trust Tom—especially after Tom reveals why he was sent to Italy in the first place. This candor makes Dickie love Tom even more, and suddenly, Tom has moved into Dickie’s house and is invited to their rich friend group’s ski trip at Christmas. Tom is mostly making it up as he goes along, but he integrates into this group rather well at first. Eventually, tensions and questions surrounding Tom’s identity arise, making this thrilling European vacay come to an uncomfortable halt. But even when Dickie grows suspicious of Tom, he’s still intrigued by him. There are a myriad of scenes and lines of dialogue in The Talented Mr. Ripley that were unquestionably gay, particularly the moments in which Dickie and Tom compliment each other’s looks, and play chess as Dickie takes a bath. It is one of the most erotically-charged moments of an already erotically-charged film, because Tom shocks Dickie—and the audience—with a sudden burst of confidence, and a desperate display of his desire to have Dickie, or be Dickie. And to say nothing of the other queer-coded scenes would be a disservice, but nothing I type could sum up how boisterously queer Philip Seymour Hoffman’s role is, how attached this bisexual throuple becomes to one another, and how wonderful it was to see Jude Law and Matt Damon’s asses. The Talented Mr. Ripley is overflowing with deceit, trickery, murder, love affairs, and other high society hijinks that I shan’t mention here, because this story and its many twists and turns must be experienced for oneself. I mean, to this critic, simply setting this tale in Italy in the Summertime is enough to classify it as a romance, but Jude Law and Matt Damon really make this film the sexual-tension-filled romance/thriller that it so brilliantly is. The class dynamics that are explored, the hazards of masculinity that are represented, all felt very ahead of their time, yet timeless. While I may be the last horny person on Earth to have seen The Talented Mr. Ripley, I will still highly recommend it to anyone else who hasn’t watched it, because you’re missing out. I’ve never been so attracted to Matt Damon (well, other than Dogma), and I’ve never seen a better role for Jude Law’s waspy-looking ass to play. And I know that this film is many things before it is a romance, but the intense attraction and chemistry between the three leads cannot be understated. It’s their tumultuous love affair that properly sold this film for the daring mystery that it is. Our next film is much more of a traditional romance, and yet it is hardly straightforward on this topic—Mira Nair’s groundbreaking 1991 romance Mississippi Masala. We open in Uganda in 1972, where two men are being hassled by the police. It is a time of great conflict and tragedy in Uganda, as the then-dictator Idi Amin ordered all South Asian residents of East Africa to leave within 90 days. The wild thing about the history of humanity is, just when you think you know every horrific consequence of colonization, there is always more to be learned. For some quick context of a very complex chapter of African and Asian history, the British colonizers of Africa brought Indian and South Asian people there as indentured labor to construct the Uganda Railway, and to “serve as a buffer between Europeans and Africans in the middle rungs of commerce and administration.” Though they were the minority, over twenty thousand Indian people, spanning multiple generations, were forced out of the country that they grew to know and love, all due to the bizarre whims of a government who thought that only black Africans belonged in Africa. Like many significant tragedies in human history, I was never taught about this in school, so I’m glad that Mississippi Masala told this story. We are introduced to Jay, Kinnu, and their young daughter Mina, who have all lived the entirety of their lives in Uganda thus far. They are forced to leave their gorgeous home and community in Kampala, and embark on a journey—first to England, then to America. By the fickle finger of fate, this family eventually finds themselves in Greenwood, Mississippi, where they now reside in a tiny, seedy motel called Motel Monte Cristo, that is full of other immigrants of Indian descent. The year is now 1990, Kinnu is running a liquor store, Jay is driving himself crazy in his pursuit to sue the Ugandan government (now under a new regime), and little Mina (Sarita Chouhury, of And Just Like That fame) is all grown up and beautiful. After Mina accidentally causes a multi-car fender bender, she meets Demetrius (Denzel Washington), a carpet cleaner and nice Southern boy who’s van is caught in the middle of this minor crash. The two exchange information, a glimmer in each of their eyes as a redneck rolls his eyes and curses Mina for causing the wreck. When Mina gets home, she is suddenly swept up in the preparation for a large wedding that is about to occur, where much of their extended family and friends will be in attendance. A handful of these immigrants own hotel chains in Mississippi, and they all frequently get together—holding on to their culture and their roots in such a foreign and intolerant place. Mina’s mother Kinnu seems distressed at her daughter’s appearance before the wedding ceremony, to which Mina says, “Face it, ma, you’ve got a darky daughter”—conveying the uncomfortable but all too common presence of colorism within different communities of color. We then see Demetrius in his neck of the backwoods, where his father works tirelessly in a restaurant, and his younger brother Dexter is a hooligan on the street. Demetrius is a proud business owner and a good looking man (the best he’s looked since Devil in a Blue Dress) who could do much more with his life if he wanted to, but he’s committed to staying in Mississippi and taking care of his family. Back at the wedding, Mina is approached by the hunk that every mother wants to set up with their daughter, Harry Patel, who invites Mina to sneak off with him. Much like the matriarchal gossiping in Saving Face, there is a moment here where two women are relentlessly shit-talking Mina and her family, offensively saying, “You can be dark and have money, or light and have no money, but you can’t be dark and have no money.” Mina and Harry end up at a nightclub called The Leopard Lounge, where Mina is delighted to see Demetrius. Demetrius asks Mina to dance, at first solely with the intent of making his lurking ex-girlfriend jealous, but quickly this revenge dance turns into something else. Harry leaves in a huff, and Demetrius gets a good look at Mina, and all of her severe beauty. Demetrius’ friend Tyrone asks Mina if she is Mexican, to which she says, “No, I’m Indian”, which makes Tyrone ask, “What are you doing in Mississippi, punishing yourself?” Demetrius drives Mina home, and eventually gives her a call and asks her out. It’s clear that these two want each other, but they both let the tension and curiosity build slowly, politely, like a stovetop simmering. Demetrius brings Mina to meet his family at a cookout, where his grandfather asks if Mina is from Indianola (another town in Mississippi.) Mina really enjoys chatting with Demetrius’ close, good-humored family, and doesn’t seem to mind educating them on her heritage or on African history. When Mina says she’s never been to India, Demetrius’ brother Dex says, “You’re just like us—we’re from Africa but haven’t been there either.” And when Demetrius’ ex girlfriend Alicia shows up, he no longer wants to make her jealous and instead, quickly whisks Mina away to the bayou. Mina and Demetrius have incredibly hot, palpable chemistry, that the two explore very delicately, slowly, intimately. They’ve both spent much of their lives conforming to standards that make their white communities more comfortable, and though their pasts couldn’t differ more, they both share a desire to let all of those forced niceties and respectability politics melt away when they’re together. Mina knows that her family will not approve of this relationship, so she keeps it a sexy, blissful secret. Things only heat up more when Demetrius takes Mina on a quick vacay to the coast, where their star-crossed love affair really begins, and they paint the town of Biloxi red. It was so cool to see the small town of Biloxi in its more bustling days—pre-Katrina. I’m glad I watched this movie with my mom, who grew up on the coast of Mississippi and pointed out all of sights: the Sheraton where she used to sing, a restaurant where my dad once took my mom, etc. I often see familiar Austin landmarks in TV and movies, but very rarely is this little coastal oasis featured, so it felt really special to see. Plus, all of the late eighties furniture and decor were to die for. As with all stories of blended cultures, Mina and Demetrius’ bliss faces many challenges, as they are judged and further devalued by their conservative communities when the truth of their relationship comes out. I won’t give anything else away, apart from the fact that there is a happy ending to Mississippi Masala—a film that covers far more tones, emotions, societal pitfalls, and chapters of history than I could possibly explain. There is solidarity in the numerous struggles that these people of color endure, but there are many challenging lessons to be learned before that solidarity is reached and shared. I was positively blown away by Mississippi Masala and its remarkably accessible articulation of such specific themes and historical contexts. There is a lot of pain, ignorance, and stubbornness in this story, but at its heart there is a captivating and believable romance, that blooms in spite of and because of all of the pain, ignorance, and stubbornness surrounding it. Uganda, Mississippi, anywhere in the world can be strange and unwelcoming. But Mississippi Masala, in the least cheesy and most authentic way possible, made it perfectly clear that home is where the heart is, and that love comes with a lot of spice in it. Sooni Taraporevala’s screenplay was funny, insightful, and enjoyable beyond the confines of any time period or place. Though we all live in a big, messy melting pot of a world, we are still largely starved of access to diverse, meaningful storytelling, so I’m really glad to have seen this film, and I know that I’ll be thinking about it for quite sometime. Both of tonight’s films were far from straightforward romances, but the romance came through with vibrant vigor nonetheless. And while I struggle to romanticize the sweaty misery of Summertime, I really do appreciate cinema: for having the capability to romanticize it for me. Thanks for reading and flirting along, my fellow romantics. Ciao, weeraba, and toodles!