Straight Guys / Gay Movie

Gay Guy,

While we're all getting run over by the Brüno hype machine, another GG/SG themed movie is sneaking into limited release this weekend. "Humpday" tells the story of two thirty-something college buddies who reunite and get caught on the wrong side of a drunken challenge: to star in a gay porn film, with each other.

Here's a synopsis from the movie's promo site:

Late into the night at a wild party, the two [Ben and Andrew] find themselves locked in a mutual dare: to enter an amateur porn contest together. But what kind of boundary-breaking, envelope pushing porn can two straight dudes make? After the booze and "big talk" run out, only one idea remains — they will have sex together...on camera. It's not gay; it's beyond gay. It's not porn; it's art. But how exactly will it work? And more importantly, who will tell Ben's wife?

Scott Tobias of the Onion raves:

The ideal way to experience Humpday is with little to no knowledge about where it’s heading—and if you have that kind of faith, please go now — because it sounds so outrageous on its face. ... Shelton and her cast have an awfully steep challenge in making the “straight porn” idea plausible, but in scene after scene, Humpday carefully raises the stakes until it hits a finale loaded with humor, tenderness, and delicious ambiguity.

Kurt Loder of MTV rants:

If two straight guys decide to have sex together for an "art project," does that make them gay? Brave? Or just arty in a new and pathetically pretentious way? ... So, will they get it on — will they do it? We eventually find out, but the concluding scene is hardly revelatory — it powers down into awkward badinage and then just pretty much stops.

I find this unsettling for two reasons... One, Kurt Loder is still working!? For MTV? He was already the aged authority of pop-culture news back in the 80s. Calm, cool and collected throughout whatever Madonna madness came his way. And two, I had to look up "badinage" to confirm that it meant what I thought (only half right on that one - it means witty banter). MTV reviews are apparently over my head. For shame. But cut me some slack, standard issue straight guys are notoriously bad at badinage, right?

I'm not down on "Humpday," the trailer looks good. But I'm pretty convinced that a middle-aged, guys-gone-wild indie dramedy won't be the sleeper hit of the summer. It won't be "My Big Fat Experimental But Ironic Gay Porno!" Sleeper hits have to pass the grandma-test, and I don't think this will even enter Nana's Midwestern realm of awareness.

Gay Guy is on a mini-vacation to wine-country (oh, how I miss his badinage), so let me know, readers.

--Straight Guy

Gaydar Check Needed on Straight Marriage Proposal

Multiple Choice:
(A) Dude has massive cajones
(B) Dude has a massive secret
(C) She's in on it, the whole thing is fake

Whatever it is, it's worked as viral marketing (we're here to help, corporate America!)

This video will hit a million views on YouTube soon. Reaction is wildly mixed, from joyful tears to all-caps rage that anyone got suckered by this, and, oh yeah, not a few "he's so gay" comments. At any rate, requests for special proposals at Disneyland are way up, and don't come cheap.

Links: Reuters, OC Weekly, YouTube

What do you think, GG? Readers?

--Straight Guy

Michael Jackson's Orientation?: "I'm Not Like Other Guys"

THRILLER TOYS HERE

Gay Guy,

As America quickly divides into opposing camps on Michael Jackson's legacy, gifted saint vs. freaky perv, I'm still hoping for quality commentary on the complexity of the man from people who can honestly admit that he was probably both. And if he was both, then to sadly acknowledge that so much of his potential was wasted by his narcissistic antics and and self-destructive addictions.

He never gave himself the chance to evolve from pop sensation to something deeper, like the Beatles and Sinatra did. That path was open to him (though following it can take it's toll, too, a la Brian Wilson and Elvis Presley).

What would these memorials have been like if Michael's legacy was untainted by self-generated scandal, if his philanthropy had not been greatly diminished by the financial indulgences that left him half a billion in debt? It's hard to imagine anything grander than the funeral he got. But would it have been so hard for anyone speaking at the memorial to at least acknowledge that Jackson obviously struggled profoundly with his own identity, or that he was brought down by addiction? That wouldn't have been disrespectful in the least, and might have helped as a message to the kids he seemed to care so much about.

Al Sharpton's comment to Jackson's own children: "There wasn't nothing strange about your daddy. It was strange what he had to deal with." Great line (got the biggest applause of the day), and fair enough as therapy for grieving kids, but not what I would call intellectually honest. Michael Jackson was unique. Many of his struggles and conflicts were of his own making. He WAS strange, complex, and confusing. Let's not quickly parse his legacy to make it easier to digest for either the lovers or the haters.

Here's one take on a topic that most are avoiding, Jackson's confusing sexuality. I have no idea whether he was gay or straight. He's probably beyond classification in the LGTBQ scale (though heavy on the trans-something, right?). Whether HE was confused or not, he's still a mystery to us.

Irene Monroe, from HuffPost:

Just as Michael was black, he was also queer, because he did not conform to our society's heterosexist norms. And as the man in the mirror faded from black to white, so too did his staged gender performance, from cute straight boy lead singer of the Jackson 5 to an effeminate male solo artist donning outfits in sequins.

And as the consummate drag performer he was not only a singer and dancer, Jackson was also a shape-shifter.

Jackson's transitioned himself first into looking like Diana Ross and then later into looking like his baby sister Janet and then later he transitioned himself into something, well, as inhumanly ghastly as he became more ghostly looking.

Jackson's gender blending was as transgressive, tabooed, and subversive as his skin bleaching.

He wore many masks until the masks became him....

When Jackson tied the knot first with Lisa Marie Presley, Elvis's daughter, in 1994 following the first child molestation charges in 1993, everyone knew that Jackson was in damage control mode. And in his second marriage, rumored to be not consummated, in 1997 to Debbie Rowe, who is the mother of two of Jackson's three children, you get to see how compulsory heterosexuality exacted a toll on his life.

For my part, I would have been fine with a gay Michael Jackson. I would have preferred it to the contortions he went through to prove otherwise. I bet he would have been healthier in all parts of his life.

Maybe my hopes for a thoughtful discussion were too high for the first two weeks of media frenzy since his death. I guess I'm waiting for the 800-page biography from someone who has access to those who really knew him but doesn't have an predetermined agenda. That's a tall order, I know. But I'll wait.

For understanding and deconstructing an American pop icon, I can recommend P. Guralnick’s two-volume biography: Last Train to Memphis: The Rise of Elvis Presley (1994) and Careless Love: The Unmaking of Elvis Presley (1999). They only took about 20 years. Let's get him to work on MJ right away.

--Straight Guy

UPDATE 7/9: Nelson Montana, also a blogger at HuffPost, chimes in on this theme:

He wasn't an amazing child prodigy who ran his course and moved on. He grew as an artist and went on to have a career that overshadowed anyone else in the industry. ... He had talent beyond mere mortal proportion. And he died mysteriously at a young age. So stop trying to make it out like the coverage is overkill...

Now to anyone who extols the magnificence of Michael Jackson and feels compelled to defend him, you too have to accept certain realities. Michael Jackson was crazy. No, not eccentric -- crazy. In a way that was fearful. It couldn't have been any clearer. And he was stupid. Yes, let's get real. The guy was dumb as dirt. Why is that so hard to accept? Because it's "mean" to say so? If you want to find meanness, you're looking in the wrong place. The biggest culprits were those closest to Michael. ...

As a New Yorker, I can't understand that with so many friends and family, (many of whom were so very tearful at the funeral) no one ever approached Michael to do what any self respecting New Yorker would do. Just say; "Hey Mike, stop being such an asshole." And keep saying it until it sinks in.

Mrs. Slocombe: Yes, We Were Served, Thank You : A Gay Guy's Appreciation

Straight Guy,

I just read today that Mrs. Slocombe . . . err, I mean, Mollie Sugden, the British actress famous for playing Mrs. Slocombe on the long-running and perpetually repeated BBC series "Are You Being Served" died on July 1. She was 86.

Read her obit in the Telegraph.

Sugden's rich and very British acting career lasted through the relatively new series "Little Britain," in which she was the highlight of a long-running joke. (Rather like the never-seen Maris on Frasier.)

Mrs. Slocombe was the fierce manager of the Ladies Separates and Underwear department of Grace Bros. department store on "Are You Being Served." Her store counterpoint in menswear was the over-the-top camp Mr. Humphries, played with deadly seriousness by John Inman. In every episode, Mrs. Slocombe unwittingly engaged in double-entendre-laced, but clueless, gay humor with Mr. Humphries. The barbs are completely politically incorrect and would be protested if on TV today, but I find them hilarious nonetheless. It's an example of humor about gays that needs to be left in the past, but is part of our collective history.

The chronicles of Mrs. Slocombe's cat, that is to say, her "little pussy," never failed to be recounted in every episode. The gag, to Sugden's credit, never got old. Watch this and see for yourself.



It was camp and just plain wrong, but I loved it. Somehow I doubt it endeared itself to you, Straight Guy.

--Gay Guy

Gay / Straight Ad Watch: Miller "Innovations" Suppress Flamboyancy

What, exactly, are you trying to say, Miller? Since you've labeled yourself as the "Champagne of Beers," why fear sophistication and hoity-toity-ness? As for credibility, you blew that one with your "unpturned" typo. Let's keep the product-tasters and the copy editors at different ends of the hall from now on.

I hate to break it to you, Miller, but there are hundreds of beers "straighter" than High Life.

What's your take readers? Funny? Mean? Homophobic?

--Straight Guy

Camp Camp

Straight Guy,

I find myself thinking about summer camp and other outdoor activities these days.

Summer camp was such a miserable failure for me -- or, more accurately, I was a failure at camp. I stuck it out through one week of church camp with the help of my best friend, as well as a few overnight Boy Scout ventures. But everyone knew that they were forcing a square peg through a round hole. A weeping, vomiting, insecure, non-compliant square peg.

Did I like or dislike camp activities? I don't remember. I do remember our cabin being read to every night by "Aunt Shirley," our cabin mom. I got to ring the dining hall bell to announce dinner. That was nice. I remember getting a demerit for leaving my jacket outside on the cabin porch. That never happened again.

I was just too prone to homesickness to go to camp. The one week of family church camp we went to was fine: my family was there, some of my friends were there. But, being away from home was really traumatic for me; I missed my mom, my routine, my stuff.

I am amazed when I meet people who went to camp for the entire summer. I would have been found dead by the end of the first week, curled up under my cabin steps, a copy of the New Yorker clutched to my chest.

Part of camp that didn't work for me even as a child is all the enforced gaiety. You are supposed to be having a wonderful time and loving every minute of it. Like a long, hot, buggy New Year's Eve party.

And camp didn't work because I already knew that for reasons not yet clear I wasn't like other boys.

All of this is a big send up to the video above and website for Camp Camp. It's summer camp for adult gays and lesbians. Where in the security of our brothers and sisters we can camp it up. The video is long, but worth watching.

Most of the people interviewed characterize Camp Camp as simply summer camp for adults, someplace that rekindles fond memories of childhood summers. But, a few of the folks seem to be finding the magical summer experience they never had. Claiming as adults something they were never able to claim as children.

Close to the beginning of the video, there's a guy who slips down some sort of rope course. He looks fearless. And happy. He says he was never secure in this ability to do "manly man" things, but he's doing them. He's the guy I identify with.

I was never secure in my ability to do anything physical. I relied on my wit, cunning, and charm, but not my body. In the past few years, I've made a real effort to take to the great outdoors. Not sports, but the outdoors. Hiking's cool and I can manage kayaking and canoeing. I don't want to play baseball, but going to games is fun. I still hide when people try to round up teams for sports that involve balls moving at fast speeds, but I am learning to trust and enjoy a different side of myself, and that feels good.

That rock climbing wall at Camp Camp looks pretty fun. And, the chance to do it with -- and, more importantly, in front of-- people who won't judge me feels right. Maybe Camp Camp's in my future.

What about you, Straight Guy? Were you one of those kids who went off to camp with nary a backward glance?

--Gay Guy

Gay Guy/Staight Guy Gym Class: Spin Me Round Like a Record, Round Round LIke a Record

Straight Guy,

I heard a mocking tone in your comment about my spinning class. (Don't worry, readers, it's all for show. He's just egging me for a new post.)

So, you think spinning is gay? For girls?

Okay, maybe the second class of the week o' Michael Jackson tribute was too much. Maybe no one needed the instructor to scream out to the class, "Any objections to a second round of 'Beat It'?" Let me tell you, though, spinning kicks my ass.

I swore I'd never take any kind of class at the gym. First, I don't really like group settings of anything. Second, spinning instructors scream -- you can here them all over the gym, and spinning and aerobics classes both emanate horrific music. I guess aerobics is dead, or at least my gym doesn't offer it.

I started spinning this winter to beat the seasonal blues. I can see how it's addictive; I could almost hear my endorphins rushing about. Before I started, I was worried about being the only guy in class, but there's always at least one other. There's one guy who's a regular, he's totally into it. He out spins and and out jumps everyone. And, he's straight as an arrow.

Or at least, I thought he was; now I am not sure. One night, right after class we were both in the grocery store. He was with another guy, and they were sharing a grocery basket. Exhibit A. They could be room mates, but the other guy had that, "Can't help loving that man of mine" look to him. Exhibit B. The gay people rest their case.

Anyway, I've started taking a new yoga class. This one gets away from the seated, slow poses with meditation. The new class never stops. One pose after another. After the hour, I was dripping. My t-shirt was a wash rag. Almost a week later and I am still sore.

I'll challenge the grungy softball league guys to a yoga smack down any day.

--Gay Guy

MJ Tribute

Straight Guy,

Spinning class was still in Michael Jackson tribute mode. The instructor really dug down deep to find some of those singles. But, it did keep me motivated for an hour.

--Gay Guy

Second Star to the Right and on 'til Mourning

Gay Guy,

I saw Michael Jackson in concert in September, 1984 at JFK Stadium in Philadelphia. This was post-Thriller, but he was on tour with his brothers, who posed and preened like they were stars of equal magnitude. Pffft. No one cared and we couldn't wait until they were (probably forcibly dragged) backstage so that Michael could perform his Thriller hits solo. He did not disappoint. It was the first time I had any sense of the profound power he had as a celebrity... how iconic he already was... and how uncontrived his every hiccup and twitch seemed at the time. (Yes, there was a brief moment when it didn't seem unnatural and absurd.)

The setting and staging was all artifice, camp, and kitsch. A blitzkrieg of lights, thunder, dayglow costumes, and smoke. But beyond all that noise, or because of it, I don't know, I knew that no one else would ever do the things he did that well.

When I returned to JFK the next summer for the day-long Live Aid concert (weird and wonderful), the buzz was that Michael Jackson would be the secret, unannounced performer for the finale. My hopes were high. But, in the end, we had to settle for Lionel Ritchie. Even after everyone gathered for "We Are the World," I still hoped that Michael might explode onstage at any moment. What a long ride home.

Michael never showed, and I've been settling ever since. That was only the first of many bad decisions for him. Every moment of inspiration in his long career since then has been matched or surpassed by periods of indulgence, delusion, sickness, and corruption. Incredible achievements matched by massive missteps and outright self destruction. I see him as a victim of many exterior forces, but he also suffered from too much self-love and self-loathing, both. I would have liked to have seen one last redemptive live performance (and heard him sing live, too, but who are we kidding?). If these upcoming concerts were really to be his last best chance at that, then I am sorry he never got the opportunity.

I can't be the only fan with a complicated take on Michael Jackson and his passing. To be sentimental and nostalgic, but also deeply disappointed, dispirited, and, in some sad way, relieved that at least his downward spiral is done.

Or, am I alone in this?

--Straight Guy

P.S. Favorite Fan Madness Moment: Fans gathered for a candlelight vigil at Michael's Hollywood sidewalk star. Only it was the wrong star, dedicated to a radio DJ of the same name. The correct star was a few blocks away, amidst the red carpet hubbub of the Bruno premiere. Informed of their mistake, the mourners decided it was too much trouble to move or wait, and kept the tribute going in the name of the wrong MJ. link

Brünö: Slapstick or Satire?

I'm back from vacation and will have some posts up soon.

FYI: Here comes the Brünö express, GG. We need to be ready.

Good or bad for SG/GG relations? Not ours... but in general?

You can lampoon stereotypes and our reactions to them (Newman's "Short People"), but not everyone gets the joke, or appreciates the attempt in the first place. This interview is slapstick, to make it to satire is a lot more work. We'll have to see.

Interested, or already turned off?

--Straight Guy

Coasts Show Their Pride

Straight Guy,

Some fun coverage from two big gay pride celebrations, San Francisco and New York, that occurred this past weekend. Fun stuff.

Slide show in New York Times article is especially fun.

It looks like it would have been fun to be at either celebration. I skipped my home's pride weekend entirely. No parade, no street fair. Ended up going out of town.

I have some ambivalence about whether prides celebrations are still relevant. Are we now so assimilated that we don't need them anymore? Is that a good thing, or do we need to hang on to our history and culture? Maybe if my home threw a pride as fun as SF or NYC, I'd be more inclined to engage in it.

--Gay Guy

Over the Rainbow?

Straight Guy,

We're wrapping up June, which means we're wrapping up Pride celebrations across the U.S. Two biggies, San Francisco and NYC, are this weekend. Pride is especially important this year --it's the 40th anniversary of Stonewall, the beginning of the modern gay civil rights era.

Gay pride means being drowned by the inescapable rainbow flag, I fear.

I confess: I hate the rainbow flag.

The symbol of gay pride and gay identifier is part of the daily visual grind of a gay's life. Rainbow flag bumper sticker -- homo behind the wheel. Rainbow flag a store door -- gay money accepted here. Call an organization rainbow anything, yep, it's gay.

Like all codes it has its purposes, but, oh, say can you see that there's no hiding from the rainbow flag during pride. Every fucking picture frame, coffee mug, beer chubby, t-shirt, condom key chain. . . .

What's my rainbow flag disconnection? Why do I so dislike the rainbow flag? Rainbows are chipper and cheerful. Who doesn't love rainbows?

There's just something about having a rainbow forced on me that makes me feel like a child. No self aware adult wears rainbow anything. Is it the bright colors? Maybe if we just toned it down a bit?

Here's a good clip from Studio 360 about bringing the rainbow flag into the 21st century. Finding it made me feel less alone. Maybe still one in ten, but not alone. One in ten out of one in ten, but not alone.

Anybody else over the rainbow?
--Gay Guy