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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

