The Rule 3 - The Naked Kitchen

I've been working on a review of Hong Ji-Yeong's 2009 release The Naked Kitchen, which seems not to have received much attention despite its quite bankable cast. (The Naked Kitchen is a misleading tease of a title; the Korean title is simply the English word Kitchen, transliterated into Korean. From here I'm just going to call it Kitchen.) Darcy didn't even list it in upcoming releases at Koreanfilm.org as far as I can tell, and he's usually quite thorough. One thing that struck me when I watched it was how well it conformed to the Alison Bechdel / Liz Wallace Rule for movies, which requires that they have at least 1) two women characters, who 2) talk to each other about 3) something other than a man.

Kitchen meets the requirement with ease, perhaps because writer-director Hong is a woman. Ahn Mo-rae (played by Shin Min-a, left in the photo above) lives happily with her financier husband Sang-in (played by Kim Tae-woo, right), and has her own shop which sells parasols decorated with her own painted designs. Her friend Kim Sun-woo is a photographer, still unmarried, and they talk to each other a great deal during the movie, not just about men (Sun-woo thinks Mo-rae married too young and needs more experience) but about their work. Early in the movie, for example, Sun-woo drafts Mo-rae to help her photograph a wedding, so they talk about the work they're doing and about Mo-rae's pay for the gig. Sun-woo is a familiar type, the slightly older, tough, brassy working female buddy, but she has a good-sized role in the story, and I find her very sympathetic. (I couldn't, however, find any photos online of the two women together.)

Other than that, Kitchen is pretty conventional. Sang-in quits his job to pursue his lifelong dream of being the chef in his own restaurant, and brings from France a young cooking prodigy, Park Du-re (played by Joo Ji-hoon, center in the top photo), to coach him and help work out the menu. Du-re and Mo-rae start an affair (Sun-woo was right, Mo-rae needed more experience) and things get complicated. Kitchen flirts, ever so delicately, with male homoeroticism -- there seems to be a hint that Sang-in and Du-re also had an affair when they met in France, which Du-re would like to rekindle in Korea; but the flirtation seems more fashionable than sincere. The 2006 hit The King and the Clown proved young Korean women to be as susceptible as young women elsewhere to the fantasy of pretty young men smooching each other, but Kitchen doesn't pursue the theme beyond the aforementioned hint. Too bad -- it might have improved the box-office.

Protesting Too Much

If I hadn’t already seen Joseph Massad’s Desiring Arabs (Columbia, 2007), I’d have been surprised that straight critic Robert Eberwein’s Armed Forces: masculinity and sexuality in the American war film (Rutgers, 2007) could be published by an academic press today. Besides, I’d already noticed that gay (and lesbian and queer, whatever) academics are capable of amazing foolishness on the most basic matters. It’s important to remember that even in the most ostensibly progressive milieu, including the self-avowedly radical, human sexuality still inspires terror, which in turn begets confusion and incoherence.

Disavowing bigotry and embracing Diversity are not enough; they’re barely a beginning. Many people in America believe that because some people protested 40 and 50 years ago, and some laws were passed, and almost everyone pays lip service to equality and fair treatment, we have put racism / sexism / antigay bigotry behind us. Most people would rather see change as something that happens to us and our society by magic, overnight, rather than something we must make happen, over long periods of time, with weary vigilance and self-scrutiny.

Eberwein’s main interest is male bonding in American war films, though his argument also applies to male bonding in other genres. His target is those critics who find ‘homosexuality’ in such bonds, and especially in triangles where two male friends find themselves competing for the love of the same woman; his aim is to advocate “that criticism move beyond this figure and acknowledge the problems that attend schematizing human relationships” (34). He’s adamant “against using strict dichotomies (heterosexual or homosexual) to categorize complex relationships” (53). And who, in this post-Kinsey, post-modern age, would disagree with that? Certainly not me. Opposition to dichotomies and binaries is being worn very high in academia this season.

Putting that principle into practice, though, is harder than you might think. Eberwein doesn’t really want to get rid of dichotomies. For him the strictest one is between male love that’s “sexual” and male love that isn’t, and gosh, he’s real strict about it:

The male friendships [in The Big Parade (King Vidor, 1925)], presented most intensely as Jim embraces his dead comrade Slim, whom he designates a “buddy,” have nothing to do with male sexuality, which throughout the film is presented unambiguously strictly in heterosexual terms [20].

[T]he somber tone and religious dimension [of a scene in A Midnight Clear (Keith Gordon, 1992)] neutralize any homosexual dimension [42].

Their heterosexual rivalry simply cannot be read as displaced homoerotic fraternal desire [45, referring to Hell’s Angels, (Howard Hughes, 1930)].

[Love Me Tender (Robert Webb, 1956)] is not in any way readable as a narrative that supports the homosocial-homosexual continuum [46].

The love at the center of the relationship is absolutely not erotic [48, re All Quiet on the Western Front (Lewis Milestone, 1930)].

[Sucking pot smoke through a gun barrel in Platoon (Oliver Stone, 1986)] This is not fellatio. Both [Sheen and Dafoe] are unambiguously heterosexual [119].

I cite Sedgwick and the two reviews because I think the film [Pearl Harbor (Michael Bay, 2001] specifically denies a homosexual / homosocial reading by making both men fathers [180n9].

Oh yeah, right, homosexual and bisexual men never become fathers. Of course, it may well be that one reason for “making both men fathers” in the film was to establish their heterosexual bona fides, but this would be persuasive only to a mindset which assumes a strict homo/hetero dichotomy. From commercial entertainment such dichotomies are to be expected, but not from a critic whose express aim is to break them down.

Eberwein cites Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick’s Between Men (Columbia UP, 1985) as the source of what he calls a “homosexual / homosocial continuum”, but he either hasn’t read her, or has misunderstood her, as shown, for example, by his calling a “continuum” a “dichotomy.” (In fairness, the same appears true of many of the people who cite her favorably.) Sedgwick also sought to break down strict dichotomies, but dichotomies have a way of popping back up and knocking you over just when you thought you’d knocked them down.

I’m not saying that any of the films Eberwein discusses should be read homoerotically, though “should” and “can” are two different matters. I even agree that Vito Russo, whose groundbreaking catalogue of homosexuality in Hollywood film was tremendously important, wasn’t always a reliable critic. But Eberwein’s homophobia makes him even less reliable. He bases many of his readings on such crude stereotypes that it would take a heart of stone to read him without laughing. In addition to ‘fathers can’t be fairies’, there’s this:

The reviewer [of Air Force (Howard Hawks, 1943)] for Variety spoke about the bonding: “The affection of the crew of the ‘Mary Ann’ is genuine, manly and sentimental. It points to a type of team-work which may well be construed as a pattern for all Americans in the manner in which our team-work, on the home front and at the battle fronts, will achieve the ultimate victory.” The important aspect of this review comes in the suggestion that “affection” can in fact be “manly.” That is, the two are not mutually exclusive, and the union of these will lead to victory [44].

Um, Professor Eberwein? “Homosexual” and “manly” aren’t mutually exclusive either.

Eberwein also declares that “love between men needn’t be compartmentalized as heterosexual or homosexual” (33), but I’m not sure how “love between men” could ever be “heterosexual.” (He’s referring here to a passage he quotes – twice! – from Donald Spoto, who’s saying something rather different.)

Admittedly, homoeroticism is to a large extent in the eye of the beholder. Sometimes it’s hard to tell whether a given reading is fag-baiting by a reader uncomfortable with same-sex affection, as in Jane Tompkins’s “Female ‘screen’ characters, who are really extensions of the men they are paired with, perform this alibi function all the time, masking the fact that what the men are really interested in is one another” (West of Everything: the Inner Life of Westerns, [Oxford, 1992] p. 40). Sometimes the fag-baiting is obvious, as in the frequent reactions to Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings films: even though Jackson toned down the affection between Frodo and Sam compared to the books, many males had fits of giggles over it, while others indignantly defended the Hobbits’ virtue. Remember too how many scholars (both gay and straight, homophobic and gay-positive) read the nocturnal initiation scene from the Secret Gospel of Mark as a “sexually charged climax.”

A few years ago some collections were published of old photographs showing men being affectionate with each other: Russell Bush and Ron Lieberman’s Affectionate Men (Macmillan, 1998), David Deitcher’s Dear Friends (HNA Books, 2001), John Ibson’s Picturing Men (Smithsonian, 2002; new edition, Chicago, 2006). I was surprised when reviewers in the gay press simply took for granted that all the men depicted in the photos were gay. Some surely were, others probably weren’t, but it’s impossible to be sure in most cases, and it doesn’t really matter since I view the photos as a gay man who’s as interested in affection between males as in sex. But then consider the image below (via), one of a series of Cannon Towels ads that ran in Life magazine during World War II. (Click on the image to, um, make it bigger.)

Is this ad homoerotic? Eberwein quotes a writer, John Costello, who thinks so: “An indication that public attitudes to the taboo of homosexuality were also shifting came with the appearance of homoerotic advertisements in American magazines, which began featuring male ‘pinup[s]’ such as those for Munsingwear underwear and Cannon bath towels.” Eberwein is sure it isn’t: “I believe the opposite is the case. The very fact that naked men are shown cavorting demonstrates they are not homosexual. … In contrast, the Cannon advertisements present a celebration of male sexuality” (71). Once again Eberwein is confused: whether or not the men depicted are “homosexual” (and Costello didn’t say they were) is irrelevant to whether the ad is “homoerotic.” Both beg the question of what “homoerotic” means: does it mean “attractive to homosexual males”, or “depicting or suggesting sexual acts between males”, “depicting a homosexual male”, or something else? And last time I checked, male homosexuality was a subset of “male sexuality.”

But both of them are half right, half wrong. The ad is certainly a ‘pinup’: its flaunting of bare male skin has no purpose except display. Look at the sculpted bodies; a photo of a group of real GIs bathing in the river wouldn’t exhibit such uniform perfection. Notice the strategically placed head, dead center, which figleafs one bathing beauty’s pubic hair. I’d bet there was a gay art director involved somewhere, but I’d also bet that straight women (the ostensible target audience of an ad for towels) enjoyed this image too. It’s startling to realize that it was published in the 1940s, but I don’t agree that it signaled a softening of public homophobia, given the antigay crackdown that erupted right after the war.

I’ll happily agree with Eberwein that “that not every buddy film is necessarily about” covert male homoeroticism; does any serious critic claim otherwise? The trouble is that in practice he won’t concede that any buddy film is about it. When he discusses gay characters in post-Code war films, he’s palpably more comfortable because They are clearly demarcated in those films and there’s no need – he thinks – for coding: if a character isn’t labeled a queer, he must not be one. He gratefully cites Richard Dyer’s paper on the prison-escape film Papillon (Franklin J. Schaffner, 1973) because Dyer argues that “a nonsexualized love between men is possible” (47) and that the gay character “Maturette and his … admirer in the hospital, in part function as a model for what Papillon and Dega’s relationship is not” (Dyer, The Matter of Images, Routledge 1993, 127). Without disputing Dyer’s argument (I haven’t yet seen Papillon), I notice that once again Eberwein assumes a clear dichotomy between the sexual and nonsexual, violating his own stricture “that human beings function in multiple registers and … occupy complex overdetermined spaces” (24).

So, I find Armed Forces depressing: after decades of study of homosexuality in cinema and public culture, there are still critics who are unable to deal with the complexities of human sexuality. At least there are others – including Richard Dyer, whose work I’ve been reading lately with great pleasure – who don’t share Robert Eberwein’s incapacity.

By Their Fruits Shall Ye Know Them

When Brokeback Mountain became a middling hit a couple of years ago,there was speculation that its success might inspire Hollywood to dust off some long-stalled gay projects. Patricia Nell Warren's 1974 novel The Front Runner, about the love between an Olympic runner and his coach, or Peter Lefcourt's The Dreyfus Affair, about the coming out of a gay pro baseball player, were titles I saw mentioned. According to IMDB, both of those are scheduled for 2007 release, but only Dreyfus is listed as in production, meaning a script is being written. The Front Runner, like Jesus, has been on the verge of coming for a long time now. We'll see.

But now we're seeing the first fruits, so to speak, of Hollywood's new gay-friendliness: I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, starring Adam Sandler and Kevin James as two straight firefighters who pose as gay in order to get domestic partner benefits. Though it isn't scheduled for release until July, there's already a thriving controversy about Chuck and Larry in the IMDB message boards, based on the trailer. (One user reported having seen and enjoyed a preview screening.)

Based on the trailer, I see no reason whatsoever to see this film. (If someone else wants to pay for my ticket, I'll consider it, just so I can write about it from a better-informed perspective.) Not because it makes gays look bad, but because it makes straights look bad. Haw haw haw, at their wedding (a wedding? I guess a mere domestic partnership wasn´t funny enough) Sandler slugs James when he starts to obey the rabbi's (Chinese [though played by a gwailo in the true Hollywood tradition], with a thick accent and thicker glasses) instruction to kiss his new husband. The wedding is an expensive affair, but apparently there was no rehearsal, so the instruction apparently came as a complete surprise. Recovering his balance, Sandler explains that that's how they get it on in their household, and the rabbi leers approvingly. Haw haw haw, what fresh, inventive humor! Could I ever get tired of seeing a straight guy prove his manhood by violence at the threat of a man's lips on his, erm, lips? (And I'm just as annoyed when queens express disgust at the thought of kissing a woman. I've kissed a few women in my time, and a few straight guys have kissed me, without any detectable nausea. Bigotry is disgusting; kissing is not.)

But as I said, this all makes straights look bad, not gays. Not that Sandler's going to relax and give James a smooch later on, I daresay. The hot city attorney (Jessica Biel, looking a bit leathery, but I'm not a straight boy) who investigates the pair to see if they're really gay, decides to seduce Sandler (whose boyish charms, such as they are, are fading). So there are numerous shots of Biel undressing in front of Sandler, assuring him that her breasts are real, etc., while Sandler drools like a bloodhound over a bowl of fresh chopped liver. Haw haw haw, what creativity! Who's ever seen anything like this before, a straight guy going cross-eyed over a pair of female breasts? Just in case you might suspect that Adam Sandler might be turning queer, even in a movie; don't worry, boys and girls, they checked his pulse and other vital signs after the daily breast exposures, and he's still All Man.

It's really daring of Paramount to blaze this trail. Of course, this trail is already as well travelled as, erm, well, you know, I don't think I'll go there. Anyway, Chuck and Larry appears to be a cross between Some Like It Hot (which was a lot more daring, even for the early 21st century let alone the 1950s), the Hope-Crosby Road movies that featured a lot of fag jokes, and a green-card comedy like Green Card or Ang Lee's The Wedding Banquet. (Mark Rappaport´s documentary The Silver Screen: Color Me Lavender contains a good look at the male-anxiety fag jokes in the Road movies, by the way.)

In The Wedding Banquet, a gay Chinese pretends to be straight to provide a young Chinese woman with a green card, and incidentally trick his parents into stop nagging him to get married. It has plenty of humor, plus some pathos, and its relatively weak production values don't get in the way. The Wedding Banquet did quite well, both in the US and in Lee's native Taiwan, and stayed popular enough to be remade as a stage musical. Fourteen years later, emboldened by the breakthroughs of GLBT independent cinema, Hollywood is still giving us shite like Chuck and Larry.

But hey, I'm the very model of a modern post-modernist -- I know there's no such thing as progress. I don't think Chuck and Larry will do any real harm; it's just a symptom, not a cause, of the homophobia that still saturates American society. If it confuses marriage with civil union with domestic partnership, well, most Americans (including gay ones) are confused. I don´t object to gay humor itself; I was very entertained, for example, by The Naked Gun movies, which portrayed Lt. Frank Drebin (Leslie Neilsen) as a pious homophobe with a weakness for men. ("Sex, Frank?" "Uh, no, not right now, Ed.") If Adam Sandler's character were to turn out to have been a regular in the Ramble (the infamous cruising area of Central Park) in between scouring the singles bars for babes, that might be funny. Or funnier, at least. And of course there have been plenty of gay comedies, where gay men and lesbians made fun of our own foibles, often to hilarious effect. Straight people are welcome to laugh at us with us, as far as I'm concerned. But, even if Chuck and Larry contains a few liberal platitudes about the importance of tolerance and acceptance for Them (i.e., Us), this kind of comedy is concerned with keeping the boundaries sharply and clearly defined. It's been done, you know? On the basis of the trailer and the excuses that are already being made for Chuck and Larry, I'm not even slightly tempted to spend my money to see it.