Wednesday, March 16, 2005

California: Amazing Feet, Considering the last Twenty-one Years


As we all know, the Supreme Court of California has realized that gay marriage is the future. It’s so simple. We only hear people screaming against it all over this country because it is a country of scaredy-cat bigots. Anything new under the sun causes resistance. And the conservatives are there just doing their natural biological duty: to make sure the process of change is slow. Because human being brains can’t take on new rules too quickly, progressive Americans must endure a change of pace that is glacial. Conservatives make sure of this. But with that big Republican Arnold by our side, obviously not giving a big ol’ crap about the sanctity of some tenuous straight marriage, gay rights are moving forward and very soon, the idea of two men getting married on the court house steps will be about as shocking as that of a Pentecostal Korean woman and a Jewish Mexican man tying the knot on a Tuesday inside the Pacoima court house. At the end of the day, who really cares?

So we liberals, ever optimistic, see the change coming. We hope our conservative countrymen save their breath for bigger issues like, how the heck are we going to save the dollar? How are we going to promote a culture of life? Meaning, how are we going to make sure everyone has free or cheap health insurance? How are we ever going to get all these guns off the streets? They can chomp on that for a while, while gay and lesbian couples go about their busy, simple lives, lives including getting married if the mood hits them. So simple. Cut to twenty-one years from now, 2026. This issue will be such a yawn.

But I don’t want to be too blasé since this IS all so new. Thank you California for everything you have done. This really is the Golden State. This really is a truly liberal place. Like the mavericks of Massachusetts, we are quickly getting there. Cut to twenty-one years ago. Let’s take a look at where we slowed ourselves down. Let’s go back to 1984.

I think we Californians shot ourselves in the foot, or more specifically, we Hollywoodlanders, doing anything for a buck, shot ourselves in the foot almost fatally, twenty-one years ago. And we must be ashamed of ourselves for what we did. In 1984, the worst movie ever made, while not destroying the gay rights effort, did do its best to humiliate gay Americans and surely took away some of the tread on the sneakers of liberal change. That worst movie was seen by millions. And those millions were laughing at us. And I don’t blame them. We exuberant types here on the Left Coast, anxious to please, distributed one of the worst movies in the modern era, aimed at the eyes and ears of millions of American moviegoers. That movie, because it had nowhere else to go but down, landed at our feet. Like most movies, Kevin Bacon was in it. In fact, he was the star. That movie was Footloose.

Footloose, which I saw for the first time in my life just yesterday, has been placed at the very top of my worst-of-the-gay-dark-ages movies ever made.

Not only is it the stupidest, most implausible piece of silliness this side of the Golden Gate Bridge, wasting talent like a gunner in a fast food chain, it also makes a meal out Kevin Bacon’s ass, but pretends that meal is straight. Absurd. And worse, with its bad style, it was shot using the remnants of 70’s verité, and I do mean the remnants. This awful, big square state Bacon fry actually tried to pull itself off as something in earnest. And the whole execution is so hide-the-homoeroticism , that the homoeroticism can’t help but blare at you in the most horrid dances avec fist fighting, tractor chicken, wrestling matches, gymnastics-as-source-of-movement (so gay) and one boy (Kevin) teaching another boy (a buff Chris Penn) how to dance. Not to mention the shower scene, where guys walked around pretending to be all gym class when they are really nothing more than all ass.

And every time they dance, the story tries to butch it up with either fights or motorcycles or girls or even guys beating up girls. It’s like they tried to hide the obvious truth that Kevin Bacon, in this dance flick, is just a big pin-up gay boy in pegged pants, high and tight, that hug his ass to a shapely 4AM bottom-boy. While watching this tripe, one is inspired to take out one’s old Jeff Stryker doll, put a cowboy hat on its head, and then strap it to the roof of the house like a Christmas blow-up Santa Claus in obvious confirmation that gay porn is being watched indoors. With tractors.

Though this question is long overdue, I still have to ask it. How could we, in Hollywood, in the modern era, make Footloose and release it into the world? And then, how can we expect the conservatives, obtuse though they may be, to NOT see the Kevin Bacon porn for what it is, barely hidden under all those cheesy fights and bikes? This type of movie making even insults the intelligence of Bible thumping morons in Texas. This movie, Footloose, could have easily become the Waterloo in the fight for gay freedom. The gay agenda was all over it but Hollywood was too chicken to admit it. So the film came off gay AND ashamed. The producers actually tried to hide the boy-on-boy sweat and boners with farm machinery and boy-on-boy fisting, I mean, fist fighting. Who were they kidding? It is amazing the gay rights movement recovered any ground at all after the release of that smoking closeted gay turd. Bad taste. AND, bad for you.

California pushed the envelope this week. That is expected. And we applaud the courts. Hollywood, with an erotic nod and then a pandering with cover-up straight clichés, made Footloose. Yes, that was twenty-one years ago. However, the problem still exists today. Sean Hayes, so silly and funny on the tube, pretends he’s straight on the street. Gay characters on the silver screen are still either closeted self-haters, clowns in big expensive floppy shoes, or even worse, so scrubbed for consumption they have no reality to them. If I had to choose one of the stereotypes, being someone who likes to laugh, I'd say, Send in the Clowns. But vary your clowns. And Hollywood, if you must make your crappy movies, please, if they’re going to be big gay romps, don’t think a tractor is going to be able to plow over that truth.

1984 was a very backward year, but Hollywood, while inching forward for twenty-one years, still needs to ramp up the pace. In 2026, Kevin, on Viagra, may be able to star in a gay soft porn dancing flick called Footloose and Fancy Free and not hide behind his fists. Let’s hope. It is amazing how Americans out there would rather see two men pound each other in a fight, drive machinery and wrestle, than just plain old dance. Hollywood wants cash. California, wants freedom. Hollywood could help California with its effort and probably still make cash. Hopefully, the master print of Footloose will decay into a state of garbage. However, we should all be thankful that having given us the title track to Footloose, Kenny Loggins was able to retire.



1 comment:

Leslie said...

I have to insert my 9-year-old girl opinion here, Don. We LOVED Footloose when it came out. We LOVED the dancing, the drama, the tension, the crushes, the music, and we especially loved Kevin Bacon. You gay boys read homoeroticism into everything. I mean, I can see your point, but can you see mine?