CREEMEDIA

CREEMEDIA

Play It Again, Quentin

MAKING LOVE (20th Century-Fox)

PERSONAL BEST (Geffen)

VICTOR/VICTORIA (United Artists)

DEATHTRAP (Warner Brothers)

Jim Feldman

The most important fact about Making Love, Personal Best, Victor/Victoria and Deathtrap—far beyond whether they’re any good or not—is that they exist. The rage underlying the protests against Cruising and other homophobic movies wasn’t inspired by just another example of prejudicial stereotyping; it arose from Hollywood’s cowardice or mean-spiritedness in refusing to play fair. If there were numerous positive representations of gays in films, then one might reasonably compare Cruising to, say, Looking For Mr. Goodbar, which certainly showed a rather unsavory aspect of the straight world, but which did not equate heterosexuality and violence or psychosis. Like they say, it’s the context that’s important.

Now there are four films that somewhat alter that context. If you’re wondering, as well you should be, whether ornottheir entertainment value is worth the price of admission, here’s a quick rundown: If you like old-fashioned soap operas and romantic triangles, then you’ll like Making Love. It goes like this. Zack and Claire (Michael Ontkean and Kate Jackson) are married. They look great, they have great jobs—he’s a doctor, she works in program development at a major network, they seem like friendly, interesting people, and they’re equally nuts about each other. Or are they? Gradually, Zack’s unnamed dissatisfaction takes hold, and in the course of some longing glances and a couple of aborted encounters, we discover that, aha, Zack is attracted to men. Zack meets Bart (Harry Hamlin), who looks great, is friendly and interesting and a successful writer. Bart is also happily gay. After wining and dining and a lot of verbal hedging (the best scene in the film), Zack finally has his first gay sexual experience with Bart and promptly decides he’s in love with him. The hitch—Bart isn’t into long-term commitment; he prefers one-night stands, of which he has plenty, he assures the audience. (Bart and Claire often talk directly to the camera.) Oh, right. Claire. Back at home and at the office, she’s wondering what’s up with Zack. Where does he keep disappearing to? Why does he scream at her for buying the wrong brand of toothpaste? Should she quit her job? Have a baby? Could it be another woman? Whatever it is, Claire can deal with it. She loves Zack. Zack gives Claire the lowdown. She can’t deal with it. Then she does. She suggests a shrink. Then she tells Zack she can live with the fact of his proclivities. He’s not buying any. He’s gay and must be true to himself. You can find out the rest of the specifics for yourself when you see Making Love, which you probably will. After all, it’s cast in the same mold as Love Story, director Arthur Hiller’s last major soap opera, and everyone saw that movie.

Personal Best? Go, if you want to see a movie about female athletes, two of whom happen to be lovers . and competitors and then no longer lovers but still competitors. Go, if you can stand all the slow-motion and zoom shots that utterly detract from the athjetic contests. Definitely go, if, like director and screenwriter Robert Towne, you’re into staring at isolated parts of the female anatomy, and don’t miss the crotch shots: And go, if you think Mariel Hemingway is a fox. But don’t go to Personal Best if you need a fix or two of character development or insights into the nature of relationships.

Sidney Lumet’s Deathtrap, adapted from Ira Leviri’s long-andstill-running Broadway hit, is an amusing, if obvious murder mystery, in which everyone carries on like crazy, some people get murdered (natch), and Irene Worth makeslike a Scandinavian Cassandra after one too many . goofballs. Oh. This movie is not about homosexuality, although two of its leading characters happen to be gay. Which two? I can’t tell you that. If I did, there wouldn’t be any mystery; it would be a dead (ha ha ha) giveaway. Yeah, it’s worth finding out for yourself.

And Victor/Victoria? I loved it. Twice so far. It’s a laff-riot; it’s got serious stuff; there’s singing and dancing. It’s Paris in ’34, and Robert Preston plays a gay nightclub singer who saves Julie Andrews from swapping her virtue for—well, let’s just say she’d do it for considerably less than a tuna on rye. She’s a down-and-out singer (our Julie?!), but when Preston comes up with the quaint notion of having her pretend to be a guy who looks like David Bowie (a case of true trancendence) and who’s a female impersonator by profession, Julie becomes the belle—uh, or is it the beau?—of Paris. In due course, Chicago nightclub owner and gangster James Garner (whom else did you expect?) falls in love with her, or—horrors—the him behind the her, or the her behind the him behind the her. People of all sexes and preferences are in attendance; when everyone falls for everyone else, or at least they think they do; sophistication battles with sight gags for control of the film; and when it’s over, Victor/Victoria has destroyed just about every gender stereotype and sexual stereotype imaginable.

Making Love and Personal Best have their problems. Most of them can be found in Making Love: the cliches abound—both Zack’s and Bart’s fathers were real stinkers and Bart was a lousy athlete as a kid; it’s 1982 in L. A., but it seems that Zack and Claire have never met a gay person; the movie suggests that gays can be just like straights, so what’s the diff, why not tolerate and accept them?—but tolerance and acceptance must have something to do with diversity; and there are many other twisted insights. Both Making Love and Personal Best make the coming out process look as easy as ABC. Zack never worries about losing his job. His emotional responses to his situation are severely limited. He loves Claire, then he's confused, then he loves Bart. What about fear of the unknown, self-doubt, release, relief, lust, and any number of other responses? Mariel Hemingway’s pehtathlete also, has no problems accepting her lesbian tendencies. A little arm wrestling, a hesitant kiss, and then, what the hey! She and her future rival hit the hay together. But these aren’t the realities. They’re illusions, harmful denials of the fact that almost all gay people go through a painful, sometimes quite lengthy and complicated process of coming out, which necessitates the need for gay activism, but which in these films would seem to be unnecessary. Of course, in these two movies there are also no bigots in the world— not a one. If such were the case, life would be just dandy, and this piece would never have been written.

In Victor/Victoria, the bigots are visible, the pain shows through, and the gay characters’ self-acceptance and triumph are, therefore, all the more affecting. Deathtrap’s step into the future is a simple one, but an important step all the same. Two characters at the heart of the story happen to be gay. The writer could have made them straight. The story would have remained the same. Their sexuality is a fact that needs no discussion. Despite its faults, Personal Best does make a major, groundbreaking statement. In the latter part of the film, having since broken up with her female lover, the Hemingway character falls for a guy. Has she been saved? It’s not even suggested. Is her heterosexual relationship more fulfilling than her lesbian affair? No one bothers to compare. And because of its traditional, soap opera handling, Making Love has the most potential to influence people and is, in fact radical, while it isn’t daring. Bart isn’t castigated because he doesn’t want a relationship with Zack. He is allowed his choice; he finds happiness in being gay and on his own. Zack opts for a monogamous gay relationship. But he also determines his own future, and he also is happy. Successful, content gays, courtesy of Hollywood. That’s a radical concept. If enough people patronize these movies, it may become commonplace. Here’s hoping it does.