Last Week in LCC

Somewhere, Anywhere, Nowhere

This post is a bit late since I have been on holidays in Taipei and Sun Moon Lake. Taiwan is a beautiful country, and its scenery and history is this 2014 film’s best feature. The beautiful photography of the Taiwanese countryside, mountains and islands (and men) props up an otherwise earnest but uneven film. It's no wonder that the film has been used as a bit of a tourism ad for Taiwan:




Somewhere tells the story of a road trip between two friends on the road to self-discovery. One is a director who is still grieving for his recently deceased father, and the other is running away from an impending wedding. The story uses contemplative narration, flashbacks and fantasy sequences to create an enticing atmosphere of melancholy, longing and self-evaluation, but all of these techniques cannot hide the fact that the script leaves many ideas unresolved, including the underlying homoerotic relationship between the two leading men. I’m also yet to fully figure out the role of paternal figures in this film, and how it may be a commentary on the relationship between Taiwan and China. Perhaps I will explore this in a later post. The second best feature of this film is the love of food, and the communal aspects of family cooking (side note: I tasted some of the best beef noodle soups in Taiwan, second of course to the Vietnamese pho).  For me, nothing brings back memories of my childhood like the smell of my mother’s pho, “thit kho” and curries, and this film portrays that sensory memory with great understanding and reverence.

Million Dollar Arm

Perfectly disposable fish-out-of-water sports drama for an overseas flight. Neither a laugh-out-loud funny comedy or a hysterical-sobbing drama in which your reaction will annoy your fellow passengers. Jon Hamm has considerable charm and does his best with a rather pedestrian script, but it’s the India aspects that make the film interesting.

In Memoriam

We lost 2 big Hollywood stars in the space of 2 days – Lauren Bacall and Robin Williams. I can’t say I’ve been a huge fan of Lauren Bacall or her movies – the film noirs of the 1940s and 1950s were never my favourite genre, and I’ve always preferred my B&B to be Bogart&Bergman than Bogart&Bacall. But there’s no denying her worldwide popularity and contribution to cinema.

Robin Williams, on the other hand, is more contemporary for me and my friends. Our generation grew up with him as Hook, Mrs Doubtfire, the Genie, Jumanji and particularly for me, he is always Mr Keating from Dead Poet’s Society. Not only did the film introduce me to the screen charisma of Ethan Hawke (who would later bloom in the Before series) and Josh Charles (who would later enthral me as Will in The Good Wife), but also to Mr Keating. Despite any warranted criticisms of over-sentimentality, Mr Keating spoke to many quiet shy schoolboys in high-school English class, introducing us to carpe diem as the worms slowly ate away at our forebears, to the honour of standing on our desks, the freedom of finding our own verse, and the dignity of leaving for the good of the group. I sound my barbaric yawp to you, sir. RIP.

MH17: Limbs akimbo like skydivers in reverse.

Today was Australia’s national day of mourning for the MH17 crash victims. Many Australians were coming home on board the flight from the Netherlands to Kuala Lumpur, and many others were coming to Melbourne for the 2014 International AIDS Conference. It is always a tragedy when there is a senseless mass loss of lives, but the tragedy feels greater when it involves a whole cohort who were working together to make the world a better, fairer and healthier place.

As you grow older, you hopefully experience more of the world, and that big bad outside world that seemed so huge when you were little starts feeling a bit smaller. And conversely, the more people you meet – friends, acquaintances, lovers, new family members – the bigger your world gets. In today’s age of globalisation, mass media and technological interconnectedness, the rest of the world is literally just a click away and the outside world and your world begin to collide. And a finger pressed against a trigger a world away feels like it hits you right at home.

In my own childhood, getting on an airplane was a rarefied privileged experience – first when our family was being repatriated and I was leaving Vietnam for good, and then as a dream to fly around the world. I didn’t fly overseas again until I was in university, and any fears of disaster were overshadowed by my youthful blindness to risk and my excitement for travel. As the years have progressed, the fears slowly increased – perhaps I had more to lose each time. And yet I keep on travelling - more to gain each time perhaps, and fears overshadowed by what's waiting at the destination – be it a new country or city to visit or live in, be it the friends and family I can catch up again, be it reuniting with the love of my life again, even just for a weekend.

In the hours before the news reports came in of MH17’s crash, I had been saying goodbye and good luck to some friends and work colleagues from APCOM, the HIV/AIDS organisation at which I am currently working. They too were flying to Melbourne for the AIDS conference. Some were flying direct, others through Singapore, and others through Kuala Lumpur. One colleague was excited to catch up with activists from around the world, and to again savour in the sights and sounds (and men) of Melbourne. Another was excited to visit Australia for the first time (will I see a kangaroo he asks), but nervous at presenting for the first time in front of a huge audience. He was still there in the office, 2 hours before his flight, refining his speech and taking in all our feedback. When he waved goodbye to us through the glass and hurried onto the motorbike taxi, he had that same excitement and optimism we all have when we travel, whether or not fear overcomes us.

When I think of the families and friends of the victims of the crash, and how they must feel, I think of my feelings at the thought of losing these friends and colleagues who I have only known for 4 months. It’s a small fraction in comparison, and my heart aches at that calculation. Ironically, in times of sadness and hopelessness, I turn to one of my favourite scenes of all time, which happens to take place on a plane:

Batman Returns

This post is part of The Film Experience's excellent Hit Me With Your Best Shot series. 

My very first introduction to Batman was through Batman Returns, however, like for many others, it wasn’t the caped crusader that was the main draw, but the villains. The Penguin was suitably grotesque and villainous, but it was always Catwoman that stayed with me. One sequence in particular was etched in my memory, the famous "kiss" scene between Catwoman and Batman on the rooftop.

It was undoubtedly an erotic moment, one different from all the kissing scenes I had seen before. Here she was, this sex kitten, slowly licking the only exposed part of Batman, from chin to lips to nose. I didn’t even know you could do that! AND THEN HE LICKS HIS LIPS AFTERWARDS! For a budding prepubescent boy, it was a scene that showed that saliva could be involved in kissed, and for a budding homosexual boy, it was a scene that showed that in this scenario, I didn’t desire Catwoman, I desired to be her.

So it was a surprise to me that, upon a further viewing as an adult, this shot, while still titillating, was not my favourite. Of course, my favourite shot still revolves around Selina/Catwoman because she remains a tantalisingly crazy and multi-dimensional character. Unlike the mysterious chaos of the Joker, Catwoman is one of the few villains whose genesis is fully realised. Upon each death caused by either the Max, her boss, Batman or the Penguin, we witness her identity continually fracturing. And, like her costume's disparate jigsaw puzzle pieces visibly stitched together, we also see her attempt to reassemble herself.

My favourite shot comes from a scene that showcases these fractured identities: the masked ball scene. For the other guests, it is an opportunity to put on masks, but for both Bruce and Selina, it is a time for them to just be their normal citizen selves. Or, could it be that they too are arriving in masks, since ‘Bruce’ and ‘Selina’ hide their real, more significant, identities? Either way, it’s a scene in which their multiple identities manifest. For Selina/Catwoman, her fractured identities are starting to fray at the edges. Throughout the film, her identity, like her costume, is constantly ripped, broken and torn during each battle. In this scene however, it is laid bare with the most powerful of weapons: words.

In an amazing performance by Michelle Pfeiffer, we witness glimpses of her fracturing identities flash before our eyes during her banter with Bruce: “It’s okay, I had to go home to feed my cat” – the spinster, “Actually, semi-hard I’d say” - the sex kitten, “I came here to see you” - the object of desire, “I came here for Max” - the unattainable woman, "hahahahaha" laughter - the hysterical woman, “Don’t give me the killing Max won’t solve anything speech” - the vengeful woman, “I don’t know anymore, Bruce” the vulnerable woman, and finally, the kiss – the woman capable of love.

After these revelations, in the arms of perhaps the only person who could understand her, her open face looks up to the sky, searching for a calm respite from the chaos of her multiple personalities.

In this shot, my favourite shot, Selina’s fractured identities are replicated in the jigsaw pattern of the floor. For just a moment, it is held together, centred by her embrace with Bruce, floating in a moment of vulnerability, peace and a touch of sexiness. For just one moment, her circumstances and fractured identities seem to be okay.

Unfortunately, this is fleeting, and in this moment of vulnerability, her own words prove her hidden identity’s undoing. “A mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it” … “A kiss can be even deadlier ... if you mean it”. Both their identities are revealed, a bomb that threatens to keep them apart forever. Not long after, the glass floor that represents her fractured identities is literally blown up by the Penguin’s entrance, and the story of the freaks of Gotham continues.

But this shot remains in my memory, because for me it is the warmest, most humanly-connected moment in a film filled with outsiders, loners who seek some companionship in a disconnected world. In a film that might be titillated by more elaborate action sequences and weirder erotic scenes, it is the moment that represents what all these characters, and perhaps the audience too, most yearn for in this world.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch

Live theatre is a bit hard to come by in the wicked little town that is Bangkok. There is an abundance of live music, but the ‘shows’ that people come to here are more of the sex variety. So it was with some optimistic hesitation that my boyfriend and I went to see Hedwig and the Angry Inch at the RCA Mongkol.

The night began with a rocky start. Although scheduled for 8pm, we had to wait until 8:20pm before we could even move from the un-airconditioned hall and to an even smaller, but thankfully air-conditioned waiting room inside the venue. We listened to sound checks for about 15 minutes, before being ushered into the performance space. The space was set up like a bar, so that there several rows for sitting and some tables for standing. Luckily we managed to get a seat, because it was another 20 minutes until the band appeared, and then maybe another 10 minutes until the show started.

By this time, we had grown impatient and were ready for something amazing. Hedwig entered the stage, and while her wig was drag-tastic and the music was loud, something was amiss. The sound was warbled and the Thai-accented English was inconsistently intelligible such that we were distracted by needing to read the English surtitles above the stage. This was not looking good…

Happy Independence Day

Happy Friday, happy weekend, and oh yeah, Happy Independence Day America! To celebrate, I present to you this drag-tastic-'whether you like it or not' mini-rendition of America the Beautiful from the current Broadway version of Hedwig and the Angry Inch.

This last week, I just recently saw an amazing Bangkok performance of Hedwig, and I was hoping to write about it in time for today, thinking that the musical's treatment of the construction of gender and self-identity and Hedwig's search for her manifest destiny was a perfect way to salute the story of America. But alas, the best laid plans of mice and men etc... hopefully it'll be ready by next week.

The Normal Heart: 5 best scenes

Apologies - I've been sitting on this post about the Normal Heart for about a month now, and I thought I'd better post it before Pride Month ends. Ned would surely have screamed at me throughout the month for not being passionate enough, and in many ways, he would be right. Work and field trips has taken up most of my time this June, but equally I think I have been waiting to feel passionate enough to write something about this film. But I haven't. Despite the rage in Larry Kramer's original play (which feels like a tightly wound, claustrophobic tragedy) and Ryan Murphy's usual provocative handling of subject matter, The Normal Heart is in many ways too restrained a piece that relies too much on screaming and shouting monologues (more on that below). It also attempts to open up the story by providing additional scenes such as the opening scenes on Fire Island, and Ned's proposal at the docks. While the additional scenes are affecting, such scenes distract from the tense anger of the film, and the film becomes a rather middle of the road (shouty) drama rather than the angry play of its source material.

But, despite its flaws, I'd rather focus more of the positive parts of the film. The following are the 5 strongest moments of the film, These scenes shows how it's not difficult to be affected by the end of the film, due to the strong script and performances by the cast.

5. Final fight between Ned and Felix

Ned screaming and throwing food at his dying lover is one of the more distressing scenes in this movie. For the majority of the movie, I never fully believed Mark Ruffalo as the angry agitator Ned Weeks/Larry Kramer, partially because he will always be the damaged but vulnerable cinematic brothers Terry from You Can Count on Me and Paul from The Kids Are All Right (I think this will be a future blog post), but also because I couldn't believe an activist could be so unstrategic in his continuous agitation tactics. I was sick of all his screaming throughout the film, and I could not have dealt with it day in day out, especially in meetings with people where tact and diplomacy is required - I fully supported his dumping. But here, Ned's anger and frustration in the context of the personal is organic, believable, and ultimately devastating. His slow floor crawl back in apology show glimpses of that naked vulnerability that is the best thing about Mark Ruffalo. I don't think I ever fully forgave Ned for this outburst, but it surely made me cry.

4. Tommy's funeral speech

I always find it heartbreaking when the most reserved and composed of us break down. There are situations where even the most optimistic of us break down. In this scene, Jim Parsons lets some anger and frustration out as he can't keep it inside any longer.

3. Dr Death's monologue

Another powerful example of fury and frustration that can no longer be hidden. With a supporting performance by Julia Robert's trademarked forehead vein.

2. Bed-side wedding

This is more Mark Ruffalo's strong point - teary-eyed vulnerability. And this is Matt Bomer at his most raw and beautiful. Forget his perfectly defined body (okay fine, don't forget it - how could anyone forget naked Matt Bomer?). It's those clear expressive eyes, ever present and warm on his face, whether chiseled or hollow, that makes the performance. If you weren't already crying, this is the scene that should do it.

1. Mickey's breakdown

Thanks Joe Mantello. This is the part of the movie where my relatively silent sniffling went into full hyperventilating ugly-cry mode. This isn't the breakdown of the always angry agitator Ned or the charismatic leader Bruce, it's the breakdown of the quiet everyman, neither leader nor villain - just the average dedicated worker without whose dedication and assistance no work can get done. The average worker who works because he believes it will make a difference, and breaks down when he can no longer try anymore in the face of unreasonable, hateful and ignorant inaction. I think this is the moment that would connect with the majority of the people and even the activists who watch this film. Most activists aren't the Neds or Bruces of the world - they are more likely the Mickey's and Tommy's. It's their dedication, love and compassion that powers the normal hearts around the world.

IDAHOT

May 17 is the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia which commemorates the date on which the World Health Organization removed homosexuality from the Classification of Diseases in 1990. Local initiatives are undertaken around the world, including the IDAHOT Thailand: School Rainbows in Bangkok, organised by UNAIDS, APCOM, YVC and Youth Lead. Internationally, as part of IDAHOT's celebrations, people are encouraged to share their stories. This is mine.

My homosexual feelings began in primary school when I had a crush on our class captain, Paul. This was confirmed during my first year at an all boys school, but it wasn't until my final year that I ever expressed my sexual identity to anyone other than myself (my mother, on Mother's Day, but that's another story to tell). To the outside world, a person's coming out is a one time experience, because they only come out to you once. But really, it's a continual process, first to yourself, then to others, perhaps slowly or in one big go. But it continues every time you meet someone new. It happens with every new work colleague, every new acquaintance, and every niece or nephew who reaches a certain age when they release that Uncle Adam and Uncle Steve sleep in the same room.

Every time you come out, there is a risk, hopefully ever diminishing, that you will face awkwardness, disgust, rejection, discrimination or violence. There can also be no reaction at all, or happiness as closer connections are built. But most importantly, each time you come out, you affirm your own identity. You declare yourself as who you are as you express it to the person next to you or to the world at large. It's thanks to coming out that I'm a more confident person, that I've also been able to come out as a Linux geek, or as someone who thinks bacon is not the best meat ever. For someone who is relatively private and introverted, being gay has made me come out of my shell, and I am all the better for it.

I'm also lucky that I've grown up in an environment that has been extremely accepting of homosexuality. Decriminalisation of homosexuality, anti-discrimination laws, Will & Grace, Brokeback Mountain, Mardi Gras, and, most importantly, a family that treasures love and wellbeing over religion or social acceptance. That is not to say that I haven't encountered some homophobia in my life. One night in Canberra, my partner and I were holding hands in public, and a group of teens became following us, throwing rocks our way (but not at us). We walked faster and stopped at a bus stop, confronting them and calling the police. There are still places where I don't hold hands with my partner, where I walk a bit faster than I normally would. And I overhear people say fag, or poof, or 'it's just not right'.

It upsets me, but this is nothing compared to what others have experienced, particularly in the Global South. Social and workplace discrimination, denial of essential health services, physical violence, jail and death by stonings. It is unacceptable. I cannot imagine what gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people must feel in such environments. There is so much to be done to end homophobia, so much research, awareness raising, education, advocacy, and lobbying to be done. But it starts with speaking up, telling your story and taking a stance against homophobia and transphobia.

So that's my story. What is yours?

Have we found what we are Looking for?

Looking finished this week and the response from those who stayed with it has been quite positive. And I agree. Since the 5th episode the show has really stepped up a notch, packing quite a punch in its season finale.

Yes, the first half of the season was less interesting than the second half, but that was just the show finding its feet. And the show's relaxed style might not be the perfect fit for the initial establishing episodes. Perhaps if an episode like episode 4 had happened earlier in the series, the audience could have developed greater interest.

For me though, even if the plot is more 'boring' than others, I find it rare to have a mainstream show dedicate its entire time to gay relationships, to see gay men interacting, dating and discovering someone new. Many of us have had those discussions about our first time with a boy, coming out, sexual positions, bottom shaming, open relationships, and whether we'd want to get married if we could. And let's not forget the love for Golden Girls! For me, there's something so wonderfully affirming to see characters living and discussing these issues on screen.

Weekend

This is a post I wrote for New Years, but due to last minute hassles with moving to Bangkok, I never got around to posting it. But I thought before I post my thoughts on Andrew Haigh's next project, Looking (which finishes its first season in next week), I might as well finish this off, and the start of the weekend seems like an appropriate time to finally post it:


One of my favourite recent films is Andrew Haigh’s Weekend. It’s a well written, tightly directed, and beautifully acted film about a late night hook-up between shy, semi-closeted lifeguard Russell and outspoken artist Glen that morphs into a weekend of discovery and perhaps something more.

It received quite positive reviews and was a bit of a sensation among the gay film bloggers. For me, the most interesting aspect of the film is its subtle exploration of space. Space in our lives manifests itself as distance and time, dreams and aspirations, and conflict and intimacy.