Showing posts with label homophobia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homophobia. Show all posts

March 18, 2018 - The film vault: 'Suddenly, Last Summer ...' the gayest or most homophobic movie ever?


It represented the work of some of the gayest talent in the history of Hollywood: Elizabeth Taylor, Montgomery Clift, Gore Vidal and Tennessee Williams. But was it, in fact, one big exercise in homophobia?

By Christopher M. MacNeil

“Based on the play by Tennessee Williams” is a film credit that usually warns a movie-goer that he’s about to have a gay time – literally. And “Suddenly, Last Summer” certainly lives up to playwright Williams’ trademark of sneaking in the gay in the riskiest of times and places.

This one, from 1959 and set in New Orleans in 1937 when homosexuality was not only taboo but also a criminal offense and mental perversion, is either one of filmdom’s gayest or most homophobic movies ever. There may be little room to argue that “Suddenly, Last Summer” would be critically trashed by today’s politically correct standards as a hate film that promulgates homosexuality with every bias, stigma and stereotype that can be imagined.

A synopsis of the film’s plot can be summarized with the single sentence that Elizabeth Taylor is traumatized after seeing her gay cousin cannibalized by his ex-tricks and Katharine Hepburn, as the unfortunate man’s regal but overly affectionate mother, sets sail on the cuckoo cruise.

Almost lost in the cinematic melodrama of interpersonal family conflict and secrets that are to be hidden at any cost is Montgomery Clift. As the sometimes daft shrink caught between both women – and in real life securely closeted when being openly gay was career suicide – Monty rides to the rescue, breaks through Taylor’s amnesia of her cousin’s demise and saves her from a life locked away in a state cuckoo’s nest. He has less success with Hepburn as she loses her already tenuous hold on reality and retreats to a time that died with her son the summer before.

Not even the A-list acting prowess of Taylor, Hepburn and Clift or the craftsmanship of fabled director Joseph L. Mankiewicz can lift this sappy soap to little more than an overly soaped soap. Although screenplay credit was given to Tennessee Williams, Gore Vidal did the actual writing, and the dialogue he concots for his characters is so laden with metaphors that the film-goer has to ask what country New Orleans is in. Litte wonder that Williams, in 1973, trashed the screenplay he said made him want to “throw up.” He also chastised the abuse of Taylor’s already established talent in a role that he described as “something evil.”

Even the New York Times, in its review of the film, dismissed it as “tedious talking and a terminal showdown that is irritatingly obscure” in the climatic closing scenes when Taylor’s amnesia is gradually broken down by moviedom’s mythical “truth” drug and Clift’s as the psychiatrist prodding Taylor toward recall of her cousin’s violent demise.

Nonetheless, despite critical denunciation, “Suddenly, Last Summer” was a hit where it counts – at the box office. On its release in 1959, the movie raked in domestic receipts of $13,897,500 – or $52,570,468 in 2015 bucks.

Taylor is indeed in unchartered waters in this one and unfamiliar in her role as Catherine Holly, a vulnerable and often weak southern belle who finds reprieve from total insanity in the form of amnesia after witnessing her cousin’s cannibalistic slaughter just weeks after being raped. Catherine is far removed from Taylor’s role just a year earlier as the sensuous and determined Maggie the Cat in another Tennesse Williams-inspired but far superior film, “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.”

Likewise for Hepburn. As Violet Venable, the super-rich matriarch bitch scheming to bury her dead son’s disgrace as a gay man with his corpse, Hepburn is out of step here from her earlier characters that defined her as a woman of integrity, guts and independence. Still, she and Taylor were both nominated for Best Actress Oscars – for some reason – but both lost to French actress Simone Signoret for “Room at the Top.”

Clift, as Taylor’s psychiatrist, Dr. John Cukrowicz – a Polish word meaning sugar, he tells Violet – is little more than a supporting player whose psycho-babbling to explain Catherine’s psychiatric demons is pseudo or surface Freudism at best.

What Williams wanted to achieve when he wrote this as a play that gave birth to the movie is a mystery, but it certainly was was not to send a positive LGBT message. “Suddenly, Last Summer” as a contemporary movie would be scathed – rightfully so – as vile right-wing homophobic propaganda to vilify, demonize and stigmatize gay people as dangerous sexual predators whose sole function in life is scouting the next victim of their criminal sexual deviance.

Williams enforces all that – we can only hope unintentionally or unwittingly – in his creation of Sebastian Venable, the movie’s central character whose face is never seen and whose lifetime of soliciting gay sex feeds directly into his death. Born to mega-millionaire parents whose wealth survives the ruin of the Great Depression, the privileged and pampered Sebastian is a self-described poet by occupation who apparently spends nine months a year working up to a single “Poem of Summer” – and he apparently needs the other three months of the year to write it.

Sebastian’s literary masterpieces are penned on international travels with mom Violet as his solicitous companion until, “Suddenly, Last Summer,” she gets laid up with a “hysterical stroke” and cousin Catherine is recruited to fill in as Sebastian’s traveling bud. And it is on a blistering hot day in Spain when Sebastian meets his fate with his cousin watching and, as Catherine’s brother George later characterizes it, Catherine goes off her rocker.

Shipped back home to New Orleans and apparently spilling the circumstances of Sebastian’s death to his mother, Catherine is quickly slapped by aunt Vi into a psychiatric institution. Enter Clift’s character of Dr. Cukrowicz, a psychiatric neurosurgeon transplanted from Chicago to a Louisiana state mental hospital. His specialty is treating the sickest of the sick with a then-new surgical procedure – lobotomy.

Violet, in desperation to safeguard her late son’s reputation, looks up the good doctor hoping he will latomomize Catherine, thus securing her son’s untarnished reputation. And, as leverage to get her way, Vi dangles the inducement of a $1 million grant to the cash-strapped state hospital where Cukrowicz works.

Although Catherine has buried Sebastian’s fate in the deepest depths of her memory, she hasn’t forgotten that both she and aunt Vi accompanied the globetrotting Sebastian as “decoys” who “procured” for him. We figure out soon enough the women solicited men to get it on sexually with Sebastian.

The film meanders through confrontations between Taylor and Hepburn while a befuddled Cukrowicz stands by and looks on passively, there’s a failed suicide attempt by Catherine and then the undramatic and unfulfilling climax in which all is revealed. The short of it: a troop of Sebastian’s ex-tricks and their friends looking to cash in chase the poor man down, overwhelm him and literally eat him.

We are left at movie’s end with Catherine apparently restored and whole, back on her rocker and smiling glowingly after poor Violet, her slender thread to reality broken by Catherine’s recall, has retreated to a time when all was perfect in the world that only she and Sebastian occupied. Their world, centered in a sprawling mansion on a sprawling estate, is far from majestic and instead is an unsettling backdrop in the film. At Sebastian’s insistence, the grounds of the Venable estate have been dug up and remade to look like Earth when it was first created for some reason, looking like something “a little frightening” in Cukrowicz’ opinion.

“Suddenly, Last Summer” fails on far too many levels, from the adjective-laden dialogue and the misuse of some of the industry’s greatest talents to the unsatisfying and predictable anti-climactic climax. So lame and tedious is the dialogue that the film’s most memorable line comes from Catherine’s brother, George, visiting his sister with their mother for the first time since Catherine was institutionalized. “I’m so nervous I could jump out of my skin,” Catherine’s mother tells Cukrowicz. “Well don’t, Mama,” George sheepishly mutters.

In supporting roles, Mercedes McCambridge as Catherine’s mother and Gary Raymond as brother George do admirably with the material they’re given. Their characters, introduced initially as gold diggers, are somewhat redeemed in the film’s closing sequence with their only objective then being to get Catherine de-institutionalized, away from Aunt Vi and back home.

“Suddenly, Last Summer,” if produced and released today, would likely – perhaps justifiably – draw picket lines for its distorted and demonic characterization of gay people while being hailed by religious and pro-family extremists as an example of the threat gays present to society and children. Through Sebastian Venable, gay men are presented as sexually insatiable predators, even pedophiles, whose only desire in life is to stalk their next sexual victims and seduce them with the promise of a financial payoff. A gnawing and unsettling feeling we get from the movie is that Sebastian got what he deserved, a premature and bloody end of a life dedicated to physical satisfaction of a sexual perversion.

Unless “Suddenly, Last Summer” appeals to the homophobe or as a guilty pleasure, skip it and catch Taylor in one of her superior roles, as Maggie the Cat opposite Paul Newman in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” another film with gay insinuations. “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” unlike “Suddenly, Last Summer,” at least doesn’t bash gay people and whip up stigma and demonization in hefty servings on a silver platter.

March 19, 2017 - A homophobic gay man, alcoholism and their fatal outcomes

By Christopher M. Turner
Freelance vlogger
Jim died in August 1993 at age 29, his decomposed body found in a closed garage where it lay for a week during a sweltering Midwest heat wave. His tortured life over, Jim was believed to be the second victim of years of his heavy drinking that his ex-wife has always maintained was “caused’ by her husband’s shame and refusal to acknowledge and accept himself as a gay man.
In 1988, five years before his death, Jim was driving drunk in a nearby county and struck and killed a 30-year-old mother out for an early evening bicycle ride. She is the first known fatality on Jim’s road of destruction. Jim served four years in prison for drunk driving resulting in death and was on parole less than a year when he died. With his death, Jim was thought to be the second casualty of his own making.
But a third victim was identified weeks after Jim’s death as the stifling heat of summer yielded to a cooler autumn and as relatives assimilated to their lives without Jim. The third of Jim’s casualties met a violent and bloody end in his own bed that he shared with Jim one night, a 35-pound dumbbell crashed repeatedly into his chest and skull, a murder that police said Jim carried out in a drunken rage after a night of sex with his victim.
Jim’s relatives vehemently decried investigators’ conclusion that Jim was a bloodless killer and accused police of targeting a dead man simply to get an unsolved murder case off their books. Family members also rejected a coroner’s conclusion that Jim died by his own hand, a suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning in the closed garage of a sister’s house. The keys of a car in the garage were in the ignition switch and still in the start position and the car empty of fuel when Jim’s body was found.
Jim’s relatives instead attributed his death to a heart attack despite the lack of medical evidence.
Today, nearly 24 years after Jim’s death, one of his acquaintances cannot remember when or how the two met. But the acquaintance remembers well two impressions that were quickly formed: that Jim was never really serious about not drinking and that he was either dangerously homophobic or, possibly, so tightly closeted that the extremity of Jim’s self-loathing bordered on the psychotic.
Jim and his friend sometimes went to the same meetings of a 12-step recovery group for alcoholics, and Jim occasionally suggested after meetings that the two go drinking at nearby bars, one of them a known gay establishment. The friend always declined. Riding with Jim in a car was sometimes a drive of paradoxes for the friend. Jim often singled out men walking on the street as “f**king faggots” while, other times, Jim noticed other men and speculated about their sexual endowment.
The acquaintance’s suspicion that Jim might be a self-hating gay man who had not come to terms with his sexual preference was validated one day when Jim, drinking but not yet drunk, made a sexual advance. The friend wasn’t interested. By then, he had become alarmed at the the seriousness of Jim’s drinking. Jim, his sexual move rejected, reacted angrily. “F**kin’ p*ssy. Whadda ya’ think friends do?’
Jim’s wife was older with a teenage daughter from an earlier marriage. She sounded genuine in her hope, a desperate one, that her husband stop drinking before he “kills himself or someone else.” Some two years after Jim’s wife and friend first met, Jim was in the county jail’s drunk tank for driving while intoxicated.  That  night Jim’s wife shared for the first time her theory about the “cause” of her husband’s drinking and the toll it had taken up to then. “He’s either bi or gay and can’t stand himself,” she decreed. The toll of Jim’s drinking up to then was his job for excessive absenteeism caused by severe hangovers and crushing credit card debt from charging bar bills and motel rooms he used often to sober up and took men for sex.
While he was on probation for the drunk driving conviction, Jim – drunk again and in violation of his probation – finally came out to his wife, or so he thought. He’d found a man with whom he wanted to live, and Jim argued that being honest with his sexuality and living with the man he loved would stop his drinking.
Despite her own despair of losing her husband, Jim’s wife gave him her blessing and cooperation in his effort to begin his new life. She was better than her word: not only did she find an apartment for her husband and his lover, she furnished and decorated it.
Jim’s new life as an open gay man living with a man he loved did not “cure” his alcoholism, of course. In short time, Jim’s lover was a frequent overnight guest at the ex-wife’s house because he could not endure another endless night of fighting and cleaning up Jim’s vomit.
Less than a year into his relationship with his lover, Jim drove to a bar in another county. It was that night that Jim, too drunk to see and drive, struck and killed the cyclist. Little was heard about Jim during the four years he was in prison. But, after being paroled, Jim resurfaced in his hometown, seen frequently in public parks and bars notorious as gay hangouts and cruising places for anonymous sex. A rumor, later confirmed, was circulated that one man known as a people user took Jim into his home for a place to sleep and drink in exchange for sex on demand.
Despite the arrangement, Jim was a regular patron at gay hook-up places. A bartender recalled weeks later that Jim had been in the bar, “half-drunk” and left with another man. The bartender assumed the two were going someplace for sex. No one had reason to connect Jim or the other man to a newspaper account a couple of days later of the discovery of a man’s body in his bedroom, presumably blugeoned to death by a bloodied barbell found at the scene.
But the connection was made by police in their investigation of the killing, and their findings were detailed in a Page 1 story in the city’s afternoon newspaper some two months after Jim’s death. According to police, Jim and the stranger he met in the bar went to the man’s home for consensual sex. At the man’s home, Jim got progressively drunker and, after the sex and for reasons unknown, crushed his victim’s skull and chest with no fewer than eight blows with the 35-pound weight.
Only days before Jim is believed to have died – based on the extent the decomposition to his body when it was found – he was hauled in by police. It was reported that police informed Jim that officers would have sufficient evidence within days to recommend a charge of murder. Jim avoided that accounting with his death. In closing their murder case, police pointed to the coroner’s ruling that Jim died a “probable suicide” by carbon monoxide poisoning, his death Jim’s way to cheat a sentence of life in prison.
Jim’s ex-wife remarried years after Jim died and is now permanently disabled by a degenerative muscular disease. The house she shared with Jim is occupied by other residents now although the structure has fallen into disrepair and some decay after years of neglect. Jim’s friend passes the house often and plays back memories he has of Jim. He seldom talks about Jim and has declined to answer a couple of people who have asked if he thinks Jim died a killer.
Instead, the friend answers that the circumstance of Jim’s death was a metaphor for a brief life that was a profile in tragedy and violence, a life that was lived in the dark shadows of denial and addiction. The sacrifices they exacted were Jim’s life – and probably two others.

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