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4B —Thursday, February 15, 2018
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The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
A24
Exploring the evolution of
contemporary gay cinema
The shape and fabric of
queer
cinema,
particularly
male-centered gay narratives,
has
changed
and
evolved
in
interesting
ways
in
contemporary
film
history.
Some of the most beautiful,
heartbreaking and emotionally
resonant stories of the past two
decades involve a negotiation
of love and desire between
two men. Critically acclaimed
films
featuring
these
narratives,
like
“Brokeback
Mountain,” “Moonlight” and
“Call Me by Your Name,”
portray the dynamics of gay
relationships in different ways
reflective of the contemporary
social
landscape.
These
three films, notable for their
critical
success
and
wide
popular appeal, showcase an
important evolution in the
artistic
representation
of
gay narratives as well as the
cultural reception of these
stories.
In
2005,
“Brokeback
Mountain” made waves as one
of the first films in wide release
to show open expressions of
affection and desire between
male characters. The film tells
the story of two cowboys, Ennis
Del Mar (Heath Ledger, “The
Dark Knight”) and Jack Twist
(Jake Gyllenhaal, “Stronger”),
whose passionate escapades
in
the
isolated
Wyoming
countryside turn into a lifelong
forbidden love. Ennis and Jack
both represent a brand of
dominant masculinity defined
by
gruff
silences,
salt-of-
the-earth physical labor and
bow-legged stances typical of
the unromanticized modern
cowboy. But alone in the scrub
of Brokeback Mountain, the
two men are free to release the
façade and explore each other
emotionally and physically.
The
texture
of
the
relationship
between
Ennis
and
Jack
in
“Brokeback
Mountain”
is
shaped
by
tense silence. The two men
engage in intimacy through
aggressive
and
hurried
moments of furious passion,
communicating in a few quick
thrusts the conflicting tension
between desire, guilt, identity
and
societal
condemnation
intertwined in the act of love.
Silence is almost a tangible
and weighted physical force
in this film, present and solid
as Ennis and Jack try to come
to terms with their internal
desires. Through this silence,
the irreversible bond forged
between the two is clear from
body language and eye contact
alone. Eventually, both men
must return to civilization
and try to lead normal lives,
marrying women and having
children.
The
sweeping
tragedy of the film is the
collection of speckled moments
where Ennis and Jack share a
brief rendezvous on Brokeback
Mountain, dream of a life
together and know it would be
impossible.
“Brokeback
Mountain”
is a story of powerful but
heartbreaking
forbidden
love.
The
film
represents
a gay narrative defined by
sparse,
intense
physicality
and chronic longing, with men
who fit neatly into the mold
of dominant masculinity. The
film reflects a budding societal
acceptance
of
mainstream
queer narratives, an ability
to watch two men having sex
on screen and appreciate the
humanness
of
their
story.
But the film’s overwhelming
focus on the consequences
of being gay also reflects a
persistent
societal
fear
of
wholly accepting gay romance
as simply romance in general.
The film is an important
benchmark in gay cinematic
narratives, particularly male-
centered ones, but fails to
do the work of more recent
critically acclaimed films.
In
2016,
Barry
Jenkins
popped onto the scene with
“Moonlight,”
a
hauntingly
beautiful film chronicling the
youth, adolescence and young
adulthood of Chiron, a kid
growing up gay and Black in
Miami, played in three parts
by Alex Hibbert (“The Chi”),
Ashton
Sanders
(“Straight
Outta Compton”) and Trevante
Rhodes (“If Loving You Is
Wrong”). The film handles
its gay coming-of-age story
with
impeccable
nuance
and grace, painting a main
character whose personality is
opaque but whose desires for
companionship are viscerally
resonant. Chiron’s relationship
with
Kevin,
also
played
in
three
parts
(newcomer
Jaden Piner), Jharrel Jerome
(“Mr. Mercedes”) and André
Holland (“Selma”) acts as a
throughline in the film, as
Kevin is Chiron’s first and only
sexual encounter.
“Moonlight”
is
deeply
moving
in
its
almost
symphonic gay narrative. Like
“Brokeback
Mountain,”
the
film has little dialogue; Chiron
is defined by his quietness,
barely
speaking
to
other
characters or voicing his own
thoughts and emotions. It is
only with Kevin that Chiron is
able to articulate his thoughts
and feelings, and in every stage
of the movie, Kevin’s genuine
interest in Chiron allows him
to shake off the weight of
his crippling loneliness. The
relationship between Chiron
and Kevin is complicated by
the rules and expectations of
their world, as in “Brokeback,”
but the simplicity of their
connectedness to each other
is
profoundly
beautiful.
Masculinity
also
plays
a
similar role in “Moonlight”
like it did in “Brokeback.”
Dominant
masculinity
is
reaffirmed, as Chiron tries
to emulate the hard exterior
of powerful men as armor
for his inner tenderness. The
film doesn’t reject this form
of masculinity, but challenges
its
validity
and
explores
the complex negotiations of
identity.
Unlike
“Brokeback
Mountain,” the gay narrative
in “Moonlight” is textured
by a gentle give-and-take of
honesty
and
vulnerability.
The
film’s
incredible
win
for Best Picture at the 2017
Oscars
reflects
a
societal
appreciation
for
intricate,
introspective
stories
that
reveal the realities of human
experience. In “Moonlight,”
the gay narrative is both the
focus of the film and one of its
many layers. The film marks
the progression from a crucial
and critical focus on sexuality
to a dynamic and nuanced
portrayal of a character who
happens to be gay.
The most recent film to
feature desire between two
male characters is “Call Me by
Your Name,” a breathtaking
story of attraction and affection
between
Elio
(Timothée
Chalamet, “Lady Bird”) and
Oliver (Armie Hammer, “Free
Fire”). The tension between
Elio and Oliver builds as a
gradual avalanche, collecting
itself slowly and ultimately
barreling all at once. But
unlike the hurried bouts of
furious passion between Ennis
and Jack in “Brokeback,” Elio
and Oliver explore each other
gently, slowly and tenderly.
And while physicality plays
a part in “Call Me by Your
Name,” as in its predecessor,
it takes the form of a gentle,
pawing playfulness, similar to
“Moonlight.”
The shading of the gay
narrative in “Call Me by Your
Name”
is
unprecedented
in the canon of critically
acclaimed films of its kind.
The film doesn’t focus on
characters
wrestling
with
their sexuality and is simply
about love and personhood
and bodies. Masculinity is
not emphasized, questioned
or asserted, but is almost
dismissed in favor of passion.
The
film
is
unconcerned
with structuring a space in
which two people can’t be
together, and instead explores
the
equally
heartbreaking
forces of memory and feeling.
“Call Me by Your Name” is
a universal story about a
human connection between
two people who wholly love
each other. The success of the
film, its enormous presence
in popular culture and the
way fans worship and obsess
over Chalamet and Hammer
all speak to a societal shift in
audiences who crave a story
about an organic and beautiful
love
between
two
people.
“Call Me by Your Name” isn’t a
story about a gay relationship,
but about a relationship in
general, one that emphasizes
the
importance
of
feeling
deeply.
Vulnerability is the guiding
throughline of these three
films.
In
each,
characters
must
detach
themselves
from
societal
expectations
and personal hesitations and
relinquish themselves to the
purity of love and desire.
While each film handles this
process in different ways, they
collectively show how gay
narratives are defined by the
process of opening oneself up
emotionally in order to share
a selfless, tender and deep
emotional
connection
with
someone else. In “Brokeback
Mountain,”
vulnerability
reveals the fragile masculinity
of its characters who are
trapped
by
an
era
that
condemns
their
expression
of
love.
In
“Moonlight,”
vulnerability is both Chiron’s
weakest and strongest point; he
struggles against it his whole
life, but when he relinquishes
himself to it, he finally finds
peace
and
happiness.
In
“Call Me by Your Name,”
vulnerability
is
celebrated,
as the characters physically
and emotionally explore each
other in honest terms and
celebrate the experience of
feeling. The lasting presence
and evolution of vulnerability
in gay narratives emphasize
the shifting ways in which
audiences
and
filmmakers
understand and portray the
nuances of queer experiences.
SONY PICTURES CLASSICS
“Moonlight” is
deeply moving
in its almost
symphonic gay
narrative
SYDNEY COHEN
Daily Arts Writer
Joshua Bell is met with
endless praise in encore
There’s nothing quite like
hearing one of the world’s top
musicians performing in one
of their favorite concert halls.
Joshua
Bell’s
performance
with
Sam
Haywood
this
past weekend in the Hill
Auditorium was one of these
instances.
From the very moment that
I
entered
the
auditorium,
the concert hall was abuzz.
Practically every seat in the
hall was full, thousands of
excited conversations being
conducted
throughout
the
auditorium.
After
the
thunderous
applause as Bell entered the
stage, the quiet opening of
Mozart’s “Violin Sonata No.
32 in B-Flat Major” seemed
quite modest and unassuming.
Bell and Haywood’s playing
was impeccable, each phrase
flowing seamlessly into the
next. If anything, I found
it difficult at certain points
to remain engaged with the
performers on stage — the
music was so calming that
it became hard to remember
that it was being performed
by the two little people being
dwarfed by the huge stage
on which they stood. This
flawless performance was met
with three separate applauses,
the audience refusing to hold
their praise until the end of the
work.
Though the concert was
presumably centered around
Joshua Bell, Sam Haywood
easily lived up to expectation.
He played with an incredible
attention to detail, bringing
specific notes out of the texture
and offering an interesting
counterpart to Bell’s playing.
Haywood’s
loose
definition
of tempo gave the pieces an
ethereal quality as he felt out
each moment, accelerating and
decelerating in tandem.
The second piece on the
program was Richard Strauss’s
“Violin Sonata in E-Flat Major.”
This thorny work was executed
with
the
same
technical
proficiency as the first piece.
The frantic arpeggios in the
piano and scalar passages in
the violin were particularly
impressive. At no point in the
piece did it seem as though
Bell
was
in
anything
but
complete control. He moved
around
the
stage,
leaning
backwards as he reached for
higher
notes
and
jumping
forward
as
he
navigated
particularly loud or assertive
passages. It was incredibly fun
to watch these two musicians
communicate
through
the
music, the separation between
the audience and performers
dissolving
as
the
musical
conversation continued.
The
piece
ends
with
a
prolonged false cadence before
a quick, humorous coda. Bell
sold this ending both visually
and aurally, the beleaguered
false ending matching Bell’s
increasingly
rigid
playing
posture. Bell jumped in the
air as the quick coda passage
began
and
the
musicians
followed
through
with
an
energetic performance of this
passage. After two applauses,
Bell and Haywood retired to
the dressing rooms to take
their well deserved break.
Third
on
the
program
was Schubert’s “Fantasie for
Violin and Piano in C Major.”
Bell and Haywood managed
the eclectic work well. The
calm opening gave no hint of
the lively concepts to come,
the
violin
part
constantly
reaching
its
upper
limits
before
somehow
expanding
even further upward. For the
first time in the concert, Bell
had some pizzicato (plucked)
passages. If there was anything
missing from this performance
it was his employment of this
technique, as it was quite
difficult to hear Bell over the
piano. The rest of the work,
however, was quite impressive
— though the work calls for
the upper limits of the violin’s
large range, Bell did not seem
phased.
The applause following this
work was overpowering. After
two encores, Bell announced
from the stage that he would
perform a movement from
Clara
Schumann’s
“Three
Romances”
and
Henri
Wieniaski’s “Polonaise No. 1 in
D Major.” The Schumann was
a touching end to the concert,
a quick respite before the
virtuosic “Polonaise.” In this
regard, the “Polonaise” did
not disappoint. Bell performed
the
piece
from
memory,
moving about the entire stage
as he was finally freed from
the spatial limitations of the
stand. It was this piece, more
than anything, that stuck with
me after I left the concert —
Bell moving about the stage,
his hands a blur, his bow in
motion; the complex passages
meeting the ears seeming to
defy the simplicity with which
the musician carried himself.
It was a memorable end to a
memorable concert, a musical
experience that will stick with
me for a long time.
SAMMY SUSSMAN
Daily Arts Writer
COMMUNITY CULTURE REVIEW
Gay narratives
are defined by
the process of
opening oneself
up emotionally
in order to
share a selfless,
tender and
deep emotional
connection with
someone else.
The quiet opening
of Mozart’s
“Violin Sonata
No. 32 in B-Flat
Major” seemed
quite modest and
unassuming
Though the
concert was
presumably
centered around
Joshua Bell,
Sam Haywood
easily lived up to
expectation
FILM NOTEBOOK