Where There's a Will, There's a Harper

When I blogged about The Substance, I seeded a minor cliffhanger by noting that I'd watched it the day after seeing a different movie that I deeply loved. I won't draw out the suspense any longer: that movie was Will & Harper.

This movie is a documentary about Harper Steele, a transgender woman who has recently come out to her friends. Because she used to work as a writer on Saturday Night Live, one of those friends happens to be Will Ferrell. He wants to support his long-time friend... but has his own complicated feelings to reconcile. Yet because they are good friends, Will and Harper feel like they can put any big questions right out there in the open. They decide to do so on a two-week, cross-country road trip.

I felt complicated feelings of my own watching Will and Harper, so much so that I'm having a hard time figuring out where to start in praising it. But I think I'll go with: I was surprised and impressed by how real it ultimately felt to me. It did, after all, have two major potential strikes against realism baked right in.

First was the presence of the documentary cameras. The two central subjects of this movie know they're being filmed at every moment. So does every person they come in contact with. When people know they're being filmed, and know that the things they're saying will be seen by others, people often change their behavior.

One of the premises of this movie's road trip is that in her former life, Harper loved criss-crossing the country, visiting dive bars, hanging out with strangers, and perhaps flirting with dangerous situations -- all things that now felt fundamentally impossible to her. Could she reclaim any of that as part of her new self? You might well question how genuine any of that would feel when Harper is traveling with a recognizable celebrity (one form of protection) and surrounded by film cameras (a second). Anyone these two encounter on their trip will behave differently too... right?

Well -- the movie confronts that issue. In one sequence, Harper heads into a dive bar after asking Will to hang back outside. The cameras are still there, but the celebrity is not. Later in the movie, the presence of cameras and a celebrity doesn't stop the crowd at a Texas steak house from being massively shitty. It's a powerful, disheartening moment, but I think it's good for the movie to admit that acceptance of transgender people is not universal. (Far from it.)

The second baked-in element that could have undermined the realism is the fact that Will and Harper are career comedians. Finding the funny is in their nature, and so is diffusing serious topics with a laugh. Sure enough, there are moments throughout the movie where a very deep discussion is headed off with a flippant comment. And yet -- I actually find that when funny people do break past the jokes, things get really profound. I certainly found that to be the case here. When Will and Harper's journey culminates at a run-down house in rural California, the discussion of why they're there, and what it means to Harper, is deeply moving.

Not all the profound moments are about Will or Harper, either. A visit with Harper's sister reveals the most beautiful affirmation you could ask for from a family member. A chance encounter with a retired therapist at the Grand Canyon exposes her profound regret at the way she once handled a patient during her career. And a running gag about a "road trip song" that Will and Harper ask Kristen Wiig to write for them pays off charmingly over the end credits.

Despite the specter of falseness that I thought might hang over the movie, I found it to be nothing but genuine. It evoked in me powerful memories of my own coming out as gay, even as the movie made me think that coming out as transgender would be infinitely harder. And while it sucks that a documentary about a transgender person should innately feel like an "important film," the fact is: it does. Right now especially.

Quite simply, I loved Will and Harper. I was so deeply moved that it lands in the #1 spot of my Top Movie List for 2024.

Fine Fellow

I've noted before that "bingeing" isn't really part of my television diet; I tend to watch a series "one episode a week" (at best), which often leaves me behind the pop culture curve. But there are some series I'd wager no one binge-watches, owing to the heavy themes at play that all but demand the viewer takes a break between installments. I recently finished a mini-series like that, Fellow Travelers.

Based on the novel by Thomas Mallon, Fellow Travelers is the decades-spanning, complicated romance story of Hawkins Fuller and Timothy Laughlin. The two men meet in Washington D.C. in the 1950s, a time and place where staying carefully in the closet is a matter of survival. We get that stage of their lives alternating with flash-forwards to the 1980s, when Tim is dying of AIDS and Hawkins flies across the country (and away from his wife and family) to see him. Over the course of eight episodes, both stories move in parallel, along with (ultimately) glimpses of the couple's separations and reunions throughout the 60s and 70s.

Make no mistake, Fellow Travelers is a "hard watch." This is a story about how poorly this world treated gays and lesbians, and even how poorly this led them to treat each other. There's very little uplifting "within the text"; you have to compare the time frame depicted to where things stand now to find any sense of inspiration. Fellow Travelers nonetheless feels like a topical story, in light of the ways that not everyone under the LGBT+ umbrella has been embraced as well.

Along the way, the mini-series makes a number of other potent points. It shows, for example, how it can take only one person in the "right" place to cause real harm: the real-world history of Senator Joseph McCarthy is woven throughout the 1950s story line. It shows how being closed off ("closeted" specifically, yes, but more generally) can lead to behavior both self-destructive and damaging to those around you. It also demonstrates that no amount of fairy tale "meant for each other" can overcome two people not being ready for each other at the same time and place.

Even the subplots of Fellow Travelers are emotionally heavy. The story also tracks another couple, Marcus and Frankie, as they navigate a relationship of their own amidst additional issues of racism,  gender non-conformity, and activism. It follows Lucy, the eventual wife of Hawkins, who gradually comes to understands the true nature of her husband and their relationship. For a time, it even tracks the relationship between two men who work for Senator McCarthy, using their position to "do unto others" as they absolutely would never have "done unto them."

The air of this story is so thick that even the romantic moments, which might be a prurient distraction in many other tragic love stories, aren't especially light. That said, Matt Bomer and Jonathan Bailey, who star as "Hawk" and Tim, are excellent throughout this series, both individually and as a screen couple. So are Jelani Alladin and Noah J. Ricketts as Marcus and Frankie; and Allison Williams makes the character of Lucy more interesting, I think, than the story itself seems to be interested in her. All five of these actors play their characters believably in four different decades, and garner audience sympathy in key moments of the story.

I give Fellow Travelers a B+. It was rarely the show I "wanted" to watch (and never the show I "enjoyed" watching), but I found it powerful and moving, and well worth it.

Last But Not Least

True crime is a long popular genre that's lately been going through a gradual metamorphosis. As audiences have become more sensitive to the ways that grisly recaps of horrific crimes can be traumatizing to the victims and their loved ones, true crime makers have increasingly centered their storytelling on those victims and less on the horrible people who visited these evils upon them. Arriving very much in this spirit is a four-part mini-series on Max, called Last Call: When a Serial Killer Stalked Queer New York.

This series chronicles several brutal murders of gay men in New York dating back to the early 1990s. More than that, as I was just saying, it delves into the lives of those men and the people the men were taken from. And in equal measure, it's a tale of anti-LGBT violence and rhetoric. The mini-series Last Call makes a strong case that society is currently backsliding to a time we haven't really advanced all that far from in the first place.

Through interviews with organizers in the New York gay community, Last Call makes it clear how much of an uphill battle it was to get law enforcement to treat these victims with respect and actually pursue their killer with any real effort. It shows that just 30 years ago, "indifference" was by far the "best" response that LGBT people -- even in a city like New York -- could expect from the police. And while this mini-series never strays far from its subjects, it makes abundantly clear that there are people today who would have it be that way or worse again. (It makes more clear that it's never really stopped being that way for transgender people.)

It's a "message documentary" that really works because so many of the interview subjects themselves are 100% in support of conveying the message. These deaths are not a pain being co-opted from family and friends, but a pain shared by a much larger community. It's effective because it's never really an irrational rant equating people who "enabled" the murders as murderers themselves; it really lets the facts speak for themselves and shows how people who would never think of themselves as bigoted can nonetheless engage in bigotry.

And yes, it's the tale of catching a horrible murderer. Though when the documentary finally gives some of the spotlight to the perpetrator in the final hour, it's only to reveal just how long the trail of murders actually is.

It's not an easy watch, but I found it a very powerful one -- and far more cathartic than a simple, salacious tale of grisly murders. I give Last Call a B+.

Green Light for Bigots

So, if you can present your bigotry as a "sincere religious belief," and your goods and services as "expressive," you can refuse any customers you like.

I suppose at least the Church of Satan can make some mischief with this.

(Oh, and while I'm here -- shout-out to any college applicants out there trying to to write an essay that's compelling at the same time it doesn't trip an admission board's fear of a lawsuit. Assuming they can still afford to apply for college.)

Word Search Jurisprudence

Longtime readers of my blog know that I follow goings-on at the U.S. Supreme Court far more closely than the average American. This is simple logic when aspects of your own life depend on the goings-on at the U.S. Supreme Court far more than the average American. (Not that my interest is solely self-interest.)

When early this week, a draft opinion by Samuel Alito overruling Roe vs. Wade was revealed, I was not surprised. You didn't have to really be that much of a "court watcher" to know how this was going to go: for years, Republicans have told us they want to stack the courts with people who would overrule Roe vs. Wade. They were telling us directly, not dog-whistling, not slyly signaling -- boldly declaring their intentions.

But being inoculated from the surprise did nothing to mitigate the rage. That's in large part because this particular draft as written by Alito seems specifically calibrated to provoke rage. It is such a work of legislation masquerading as legal thinking, so much the very thing "originalist" conservatives decry, that it boils the blood.

Alito goes on for nearly 100 pages, but the summary of what he wrote is basically: I did a word search on the Constitution and "abortion" isn't in there. This sort of disingenuous approach to law is par for the course from Republican-appointed judges these days. I'd point out that if legal analysis was really this simple, there's seemingly no need for all the education lawyers and judges get. But then, they don't necessarily get it these days, which is why more and more Republican-nomiated judges are rated as "Not Qualified" by the American Bar Association.

The truth, of course, is that Alito and other extremist members of the Supreme Court simply stop reading the law at the point that suits them -- that point being 1787. They'll endlessly dive into the background and thinking of the framers who wrote the original document... but somehow, the 17 times we've amended the Constitution since then, the intentions of those lawmakers, just don't seem to be as important.

The 14th Amendment was about abolishing slavery, yes. But it was written knowing better even than we understand today exactly what slavery meant. When those lawmakers wrote about what it meant to "deprive any person of life, liberty, or property," they knew exactly what kind of deprivations were routine for slaves. Slaves were separated from their families, not permitted to have families, forced to bear offspring, and far, far more... "indignities" is a woefully insufficient word. Can anyone be said to truly have their "liberty" in the face of that? If they don't have privacy, or self-determination? The "word search method" of Constitutional law eschews even the simplest kind of thought exercise, because if you did so, you'd get an obvious, different answer.

And what's especially galling here, a disingenuous rot at the heart of this claim to prize "the words of the Founders," is that you have to explicitly ignore some of their words to get there. Those first 10 Amendments that were there from the very beginning? You never hear conservatives talking about the 9th. (Or frankly... any other than the 1st, 2nd, and 10th.) "The enumeration in the Constitution, of certain rights, shall not be construed to deny or disparage others retained by the people." That's stating in very specific terms that you can't "word search" the Constitution -- just because it's not specifically in there doesn't mean it's not in there.

When the real ruling in Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization comes down in a few weeks, I'm sure that dissenting justices will say all of that far more articulately than I. (And with a more enlightened legal foundation. These are the things you do when you actually care about "showing your work.") Sadly, the words will be a dissent.

"Word search" jurisprudence will go on to strip more and more rights away in the years ahead. Popular opinion won't limit how far they go; leaving Roe and Casey in place is favored by around 70% of the U.S. population -- even in red states -- but they're striking it down anyway with a fervor and glee that oozes "what are you gonna do about it?"

The only way to stop these draconian judges is to stop voting for the Republican candidates who put them on the bench. Don't wait for them to come for the particular law that you think will impact you personally. For one thing, they will eventually. Moreover, this law, right now, affects you personally.

Material Concerns

You know the old saying that you can't judge a book by its cover? Well, in the case of Boyfriend Material, by Alexis Hall, you absolutely can.

Look at the back of the book, and you'll get a summary of a romantic comedy plot that sounds so predictable, you can practically hear the perky voice of the winking trailer narrator. The only wrinkle that keeps it from being like countless other rom-coms you've probably seen or at least heard of is that the couple in the story is gay.

Luc is a mess with a chip on his shoulder about his famous rocker father. Oliver is a barrister wound so tight he might snap. Both think they're undateable, and both of them need a boyfriend -- one to clean up his public image, the other to attend an upcoming formal event. Though they have nothing in common, they agree to serve as "fake boyfriends" for each other. But might it be the start of something more real?

If you don't already know exactly how this story is going to go, know that you can also judge this book by its front cover. This story is very British, as the iconography around the title promises. The "why can't anyone say how they really feel?" trope of rom-coms is ratcheted up another notch when you add the stiff-upper-lippedness common in British culture. (At least, British culture as commonly fictionalized.)

What I guess I'm really driving at is this: I can't be too disappointed by this book, because I can't pretend I didn't know precisely what I was in for. Maybe I'd imagined a more sexy LGBT romance novel when the book was determined to be the most chaste rom-com imaginable, but the contours of the narrative here were abundantly clear before page 1.

But am I a little disappointed that the road to this book's inevitable ending didn't make a little more sense. It's a one sided-book, with the perspective locked in Luc's head the entire time. We're living his self-doubts and hang-ups, while only hearing about Oliver's. And of course, Luc is in the process of falling in love with Oliver, so he doesn't come off very flawed at all. Oliver comes off like the author's  wish fulfillment. He's too perfect for the premise that he'd need a "fake boyfriend" to ever be believable.

Then again, it's possible that rom-com characters are often this shallow and simple, existing only to serve the plot, and I just haven't read/seen many rom-coms. Representation means gay people too can be part of mediocre fiction.

I'm inclined to grade Boyfriend Material something like a C for being quite literally average. On the other hand, I probably entered into a pact to grade it on a curve just by reading it in the first place. Maybe something like a B- is more fair? If it sounds like something you'd ever want to read, you'll probably find it to be a pleasant enough diversion.

To the Victor...

A few years ago, I was very pleasantly surprised by the movie Love, Simon -- a gay teen rom-com with some actual emotional heft, despite its mostly light touch. Though the movie was successful, it was hardly the sort of thing you'd expect to spawn a sequel. And yet it has, in the form of a TV series on Hulu: Love, Victor.

The title character is a teen who is just arriving in a new city. Victor is questioning his own sexuality, and afraid to admit that to a family he fears won't understand. But he has one person he can confide in. He happens to be starting at the same school where a recent graduate, Simon, had a memorable coming out. Victor writes Simon, and gets back advice as the two strike up a cyber-friendship.

I will say right up front: Love, Victor is not as effective a story as Love, Simon was. In fact, Love, Victor sometimes seems more like the cheesy knockoff of some other truly great show. The writing is soap operatic -- in dialogue, and even occasionally plot twists. What I didn't know while watching the first season (but which makes total sense now that I've heard it) is that the series was originally made for Disney+, but they balked at the last minute, deciding not to host it under the Disney banner and instead airing it on Hulu. Still, it absolutely feels like a "Disney Channel" show.

Still, there are things to like about the series. Although the guys in the cast seem that rather one-dimensional and limited actors, the women are pretty great throughout. Rachel Hilson is a young actress you might know as the college-era Beth from This Is Us; she's just as strong here, and has a lot more to do in each episode. Bebe Wood has grown up hopping from one "almost a hit" sitcom to another, including The New Normal and The Real O'Neals (among more guest starring roles); she has great comic chops here and the show makes good use of them. Isabella Ferreira is strong as Victor's fiery sister, and Ana Ortiz has many good moments as his mother.

For whatever weaknesses the show might have, its heart is always in the right place. It does have a lot of positive messages woven into its story. It's an LGBT story that charts a different course than Love, Simon. Also, Victor and his family have Puerto Rican and Colombian-American heritage, which gives this story a different canvas to paint on.

Honestly, if Love, Victor hadn't been just 10 episodes, each a half an hour and easy to watch, I might not have hung with it for the whole ride. A renewal for a second season was just announced, and I had mixed feelings about that: there's certainly potential within the show and it could get better, but I hardly feel like I need to know what's going to happen next. But that renewal announcement came with interviews from the creators saying "now that we know were making the show for Hulu, we're going to be able to do more with it." So... maybe...?

Given that it is such a breezy watch? I think I'd call it a B- overall. It's no Love, Simon... but it's not too bad.

On What Basis

For a while now, it's been on my movie to-do list to watch On the Basis of Sex, the biopic about Ruth Bader Ginsburg. For obvious reasons, watching it bubbled up to the top of the list this past weekend.

On the Basis of Sex is not a full-life biopic, narrowing the focus to a period from 1956 (RBG's first year at law school) to 1972 (when she and her husband argued a key case before the Tenth Circuit Court of Appeals). It does depict the sweeping and systemic gender discrimination she fought against, and then presents a classic "long odds" narrative of the fight to strike the first blow against it.

The movie took a while to draw me in, because at first it seems so devoted to touching on the biopic movie staples. The story feels very specifically manipulated to fit a very familiar mold, and anyone who's seen even a handful of these movies can sense the manipulation. (You don't even have to know about the life of Ruth Bader Ginsburg to feel the moves coming.)

Even though the movie never really stops following the underdog formula, though, at some point I turned the corner and simply enjoyed the familiar ride. Somewhere around the halfway point, the movie really does begin to communicate the skill and power of its subject. It makes a compelling character of Ginsburg's daughter Jane as well. And it begins knocking down the dominoes it has set up in very satisfying way.

The final act, the big oral argument day at the Tenth Circuit, is everything you want one of these movies to be: a defiant speak truth to power moment, an underdog rises to the challenge and triumphs moment, a good wins in the end moment. It makes you want to stand up and cheer. It's inspirational and aspirational. In short, for me, it more than made up for any shortcomings earlier on in the film.

Felicity Jones stars as Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and gives a marvelous performance. From the technical aspects like RBG's distinct way of speaking to the complicated emotional moments that combine more than one feeling, Jones is at her best here. And the cast around her is solid too. Young Cailee Spaeny is great as Jane Ginsburg, and Armie Hammer puts the "supporting" into Supporting Actor. Popping in and out of the movie are fun character turns from Justin Theroux, Kathy Bates, Sam Waterston, and Stephen Root.

All told, I've give the movie a B+. I admit, it's possible I might not have thought as highly of it if I'd watched it just one week earlier. But I really do think it delivers in the end. And in particular, it delivers just what I know I for one am looking for right now.

DS9 Flashback: Rejoined

The original Star Trek is widely credited for featuring U.S. television's first interracial kiss (in 1968, in the episode "Plato's Stepchildren"). 27 years later, its spinoff Deep Space Nine would feature not the first, but one of the earliest instances of a same-sex kiss, in the episode "Rejoined."

A Trill scientist, Lenara Kahn, is coming to the station to work on the creation of an artificial wormhole. It's a project that will require her to work closely with Jadzia Dax -- which presents a problem. Past hosts of Kahn and Dax were once married to each other, and it's a taboo in Trill society to "reassociate" with a former love. It quickly becomes apparent: the two do still have feelings for one another. Are they willing to sacrifice and flout tradition for the sake of their love?

Star Trek: The Next Generation had tried to address gay rights through metaphor in "The Outcast." This episode is much stronger in my view, in part because it deals with its analogy and emotions much more honestly and naturally. The story is so much more organic here that in fact, the original pitch had Dax encountering a male Trill from her past. Series co-creator Michael Piller had suggested back in season two that Trills would have a taboo limiting interaction with people from former lives, to avoid creating an entrenched aristocracy of the joined. It wasn't until later in developing an episode around this that staff writer Ronald D. Moore suggested Kahn be a woman to strengthen the story.

For certain, the relationship in this episode is legitimate; it's only not believable to the extent that it's always hard to buy TV characters falling deeply in love in an hour minus commercials. (This relationship is at least far more credible than the last one the writers tried with Dax.) It's significant that host Torias Dax was killed in an accident, making that past relationship feel like unfinished business that was cut short. The stage is well set.

Terry Farrell and guest star Susanna Thompson both give strong, committed performances. Jadzia goes from a bundle of nerves to a rapidly rekindling infatuation to delivering a teary-eyed ultimatum. Lenara struggles to admit her feelings with her brother in close proximity (for most, it's harder to "come out" to close family); she wants to give in, but ultimately can't be as brave. The silent, sorrowful goodbye at the end of the episode is potent and earned.

The kiss between the two women is just one moment in this larger story, and not salacious or deliberately crafted for controversy and/or ratings as many other TV lesbian kisses were in the 1990s -- think Roseanne or Ally McBeal. Episode director Avery Brooks made sure not to give in to the hype, refusing to allow visiting Entertainment Tonight cameras to film the moment, while placing his own cameras (throughout the episode) in tight closeups that heightened the drama without exploiting the situation.

Though the Star Trek offices received many complaints at the time (and there were reports of some affiliates cutting the kiss), the episode has been mostly praised in the long run. Many involved, including Terry Farrell and Avery Brooks, have expressed gratitude to have been a part of it. It plays fairly well today, even as today's audience can now recognize that Trills are a much better analogy for transgender men and women than gays and lesbians. And though it's maybe a cop out to make the guest star the "bad guy" who can't go through with the relationship, it does at least protect the character of Dax for the audience: you can't be mad at her for bailing. (Nor, I suppose, if you're a bigot: you can't be mad at her for being in such a relationship long term.)

Sweet moments pepper the episode. Bashir and Sisko both get to demonstrate their friendship to Dax. Bashir's moment is played for comedy as he "chaperones" Dax and Kahn's "not-supposed-to-be-a-date" (if there were smartphones in the 24th century, he'd be checking his). Sisko's scenes are more profound, as he first repeats Curzon's words back to Jadzia when he thinks she wants to be talked out of a relationship with Kahn, then later gives his full-throated endorsement when he sees it's what she really wants. There's also some fun at the margins, as both Dax and Bashir dazzle their friends with a little slight of hand, and Quark concocts hilarious theories as to how the magic was done. (Transporters? Regurgitation?)

Other observations:

• Kira wears a Bajoran dress uniform for the first time, a striking lavender color.

• Where do Trills draw the line on the reassociation taboo? Given the theory of "six degrees of separation," it seems like it wouldn't take too many generations before a host would almost inevitably come in contact with someone important from a symbiont's past life.

• Lenara gives Jadzia some Klingon earrings as a gift. Klingons and romance are always entwined for Dax.

• Artificial wormholes (this one, at least) are triangular instead of round.

• The visual of Dax walking down a force field is as well conceived as it is well executed.

• After this first female-female kiss on Star Trek, it would be 22 years before the first male-male kiss would be depicted. (Also notable, there were numerous kisses between two women portrayed on television throughout the 1990s, but it wasn't until the 2000s that a kiss between two men would finally be shown.)

The people who worked on this episode had good intentions, and managed something far better than The Next Generation's metaphor for LGBT people. Still, as this episode ages out of being controversial, it's also becoming less memorable. I grade it a B.

Love, Actually

This week, I went to go see Love, Simon -- the new rom-com about a closeted teen who connects anonymously by e-mail with another gay kid at his high school. The movie was never going to top the box office with Black Panther still ruling the roost, but it has nevertheless found a modest audience. (The weeknight screening we went to was, much to our surprise, sold out -- and to an enthusiastically responsive crowd.)

A lot of recent talk has centered around the value of inclusion in movies. There's been a little negative backlash, a good amount of positive affirmation... and, I think, a fair amount of polite indifference. But it really does matter. When it comes to gay subject matter, most movies fit into one of two constricted boxes. You have award bait like Call Me By Your Name and Moonlight, movies that I think come across like they're packaging a message for straight audiences more than they're trying to reach and/or entertain a gay one. Then you've got the sort of cheaply made stuff that streams in rivers on Netflix. Every once in a long while, you'll find a decent-though-not-exceptional one, and you'll have to wade through a dozen terrible ones to find it. (I've watched several truly bad ones that I've never even bothered to blog about. Hopefully it was because of embarrassment as a movie watcher and not embarrassment as a gay man. Maybe I've still got some issues to work on there.)

In any case, Love, Simon does what I'd hoped -- it doesn't slip neatly into either category. The movie may be a milestone for being the first major studio release to center on an LGBT teen romance, but thankfully that sense of Importance doesn't permeate the film itself and weigh it down. There's a fair amount of material here that does seem more intended for the straight people (who I suppose will make up most of the audience), but some of that is due to the fact that many well-worn staples of the romantic comedy genre are being appropriated. There's a lot to the story that to me felt honest, true, and familiar -- this isn't set in a sun-dappled Italian villa no one actually gets to live in, nor is it about secluded cowboys (with or without pudding -- thanks, South Park).

The movie does a great job of capturing versions of several key moments in the "coming out" experience. (Well, mine, anyway.) The litany of excuses you make up to avoid telling anyone. The first time you're confronted by someone who has figured you out. The first time you choose to tell a close friend. The first time you tell your family. It's all woven through a fairly light and fluffy "secret admirer" type of story, and there are plenty of jokes... and yet, there are moments that are surprisingly deep. I wasn't expecting just how moving I would find some of the scenes to be.

The cast is solid. Nick Robinson is excellent at the title character, natural and charismatic. Simon's close trio of friends -- Katherine Langford, Alexandra Shipp, and Jorge Lendeborg Jr. -- are fun. Logan Miller walks a great line as Martin -- he's the heel of the story, and yet has to remain not-totally-unlikeable for the bulk of it, which Miller pulls off. The comic relief is entertaining from the always-funny Tony Hale, and even more so from Natasha Rothwell (who steals every scene she's in as the much-suffering drama teacher). Anchoring some of the film's most dramatic scenes, as Simon's parents, are Jennifer Garner and Josh Duhamel. Each is perfect in their role; Garner in particular is key to the strongest scene in the movie.

When I ranked Love, Simon in my Flickchart, it landed right on the cusp of A-/B+. For me, I'd say it's probably the former; I suspect for most people it would probably be more the latter. It depends on whether you're perceiving this as a first-of-its-kind movie, or just another teen rom-com. Either way, I'd recommend it. I certainly enjoyed it more than the last few years' worth of LGBT films that have come with hand outstretched for awards.

Loving Criticism

The 1967 Supreme Court case of Loving v. Virginia is one of the more prominent cases in U.S. law. The unanimous verdict struck down anti-miscegenation laws barring interracial marriage, marking another advance for civil rights. (The ruling also figured prominently in the case that struck down same-sex marriage bans decades later.)

The case had previously been chronicled in a documentary, The Loving Story. As much as I appreciated the history, I was lukewarm at best on the film. That left me hopeful for improvement in a new, dramatized take on the tale released last year, a movie simply titled Loving. Unfortunately, I felt like it missed the mark even more than the documentary.

This new movie came from writer-director Jeff Nichols. I found that unexpected and improbable, given the only other movie of his I've seen, the sci-fi tinged family drama Midnight Special. It seemed like quite a change-up. Still, I quite liked that movie, and the way the personal stakes of its story remained front and center throughout. Maybe Nichols was the right person to tell the Loving story.

Richard and Mildred Loving were not a particularly outgoing couple. The fact that they were living together in violation of the law no doubt magnified their already quiet personalities. So if told accurately, this was never going to be a movie in which they gave bombastic, Oscar-baiting speeches. Still, it's so understated that it often feels like nothing is happening.

Interestingly, the movie is so matter of fact about their relationship that it doesn't even get into their legal troubles until 15-20 minutes in. I found myself thinking that someone coming into this film without knowing the story, someone without racial prejudice, might well wonder what the hell it's all about. When the movie does get there, it does enter its strongest section: an impactful display of what it's like to deal with bigotry -- both casual and overt -- on a regular basis.

But when things finally do turn to the court case, I found myself wanting more. Historical fact, combined with the writer's choice of perspective, combined to deny that. The Lovings did not even attend the hearing at the Supreme Court, and the movie makes the decision to remain grounded completely in their perspective. While I appreciate the impulse to keep it their story, it means we never get the triumphant moment where their argument is aired forcefully in public. There's no "yeah, take that haters!" moment in this film, even when the case is won. The Lovings just keep on living their lives.

It's something of a wonder that Ruth Negga received an Oscar nomination here for her performance as Mildred Loving -- not because it's bad work, but because it's so muted and restrained, so not the sort of work that normally garners Oscar attention, that I'm not sure how it broke through. Joel Edgerton has the volume dialed down even more as Richard Loving, giving the most subtle and understated performance of the film and his career.

The actors with the most to do in terms of flash also have very little to do in terms of their actual time in the movie. Nick Kroll, normally known for comedy, plays an ACLU lawyer. Marton Csokas gives us our villain to sneer at as a racist local sheriff. Michael Shannon plays a photographer for LIFE magazine. The three appear collectively in perhaps a quarter of the movie.

So once again, I find myself praising the actual story of the Lovings, hoping that more people knew of it... only to have another movie I can't really recommend to anyone. Loving is just too dry, too soft-spoken, to trumpet their courage in the way it deserves. I give it a D+. Stick with the documentary, or perhaps better still, the actual Supreme Court ruling that bears the Lovings' name.

Go Figures

My journey through this year's Oscar contenders for Best Picture continued recently with a movie I would have seen with or without the nomination: Hidden Figures. This film about the early days of the U.S. space program actually offers a fresh new look at this well chronicled history, by focusing on a previously (and sadly) overlooked aspect of it -- the contribution of women of color in the race for space.

I'm a sucker for entertainment about the space race. Apollo 13 is one of my favorite movies, I'm quite fond of The Right Stuff, and I loved the HBO mini-series From the Earth to the Moon. I especially enjoy a story that tells me something about the history of space flight that I didn't know -- and that doesn't happen all that often. In short, I was predisposed to like this movie.

Add to all that the compelling civil rights tale being told here. The three protagonists of this movie are victims twice over; we see them discriminated against both for their race and their gender. (One of the three is an underdog in yet another way, as her job is at risk of elimination with the advent of computers.) It's a powerful example: just how brilliant these three women were, how they were in a field that routinely recognized and rewarded such brilliance, and yet they still struggled to rise to the top.

It's made even easier to root for these women thanks to the winning performances by Taraji P. Henson, Octavia Spencer, and Janelle Monáe. Henson is the nominal lead, but all three have their own story lines, and the trio together has a number of great scenes. The film's ensemble is further fleshed out by heroes (Kevin Costner, Mahershala Ali) and heels (Kirsten Dunst, Jim Parsons), but that core triad remains the focus throughout.

The resulting concoction is sometimes dramatic and sometimes funny. It provokes thrills of triumph and makes you bristle at injustice. Some would argue the film is formulaic -- but if so, the formula is executed very well. I give Hidden Figures an A-. It's my favorite so far of the Oscar contenders, and it even earns a spot on my Top 10 Movies of 2016.

Outage

For the most part, it seems like there are two ways that LGBT characters appear in movies these days. (Which, right there, is admittedly an improvement on the past.) They'll sometimes be shoehorned in among the supporting characters of a more mainstream movie (for comic relief, or to check the diversity box). Or they'll stand front and center in some little-seen art house drama that's courting awards. So when a movie comes along like 4th Man Out, doing neither thing, I feel compelled to take a look.

4th Man Out definitely qualifies as a "little seen indie movie," but it isn't a dramatic piece of award bait. It centers around a foursome of 20-something guys, longtime friends. Three are stereotypical hound dogs -- "red-blooded young men," as the cliche would go. The fourth finally works up the courage to come out to the group as gay. After some initial awkwardness, the other three resolve to help their friend "meet Mr. Right."

Basically, the recipe here is a pinch of rom-com, a dash of raunch-com, and the hope that the focus on a gay character makes the familiar feel a bit novel. And if that reads to you like less than a ringing endorsement, we're mostly on the same page. 4th Man Out isn't as much as it could be, in a lot of ways. It's a decent enough movie, yet not as funny, or raunchy, or romantic, or sweet, or over-the-top as it would need to be to stand out from the pack if it weren't for the gay element. In a weird way, maybe that's the dream: gay characters can star in good-but-not-great movies too!

I would have just filed this movie away as forgettable (and likely with a lower grade)... except that it does have a couple of scenes that do manage to be better. Each is a two character scene addressing the difficulties of coming out to family and friends -- one between the main character and his mother, the other between him and his best friend. Neither scene wrenches the movie too sharply into drama territory, yet both are incredibly honest and realistic moments (and seem all the more so amid the lightweight surroundings). Of course, it's probably not the best thing when the most effective scenes in your comedy make the eyes a bit wet and the throat a bit dry. But they are effective and memorable scenes all the same, and do make the movie stand out in its own modest way.

In the end, I found 4th Man Out to be a decent movie, even though not exceptional. I'd grade it a B. I'm glad a movie like it got made, even if it's not something I'd push anyone and everyone to see.

Great (Well, Pretty Good, At Least) Dane

Almost every Oscar season has at least one film that, while excluded from the Best Picture race, is lauded for multiple performances. Most recently, The Danish Girl was one of those films. It tells the true story* of Lili Elbe, the first person** to undergo sex reassignment*** surgery.

Those various asterisks illuminate some of the reasons this film may have been excluded from Best Picture contention. First, * -- this story is fictionalized, based on a novel by David Ebershoff that took considerable liberties with the actual facts. Second, ** -- though much of the talk around this film anointed Lili Elbe as the "first" to undergo surgery, that also isn't factually accurate. Third, *** -- such surgeries are often called "gender confirmation" procedures in our more enlightened age, though some aspects of Lili's character in the film belie this more affirmative terminology.

If you head into the movie with eyes open, knowing it's not quite reality, and accepting that it may not be authentic to the experience of most modern transgender people, then the film is commendable on many levels. Seeing past those shortcomings might admittedly be a big ask; certainly, those issues could spark a worthy discussion of whether a largely positive on-screen representation (even if flawed) is to be praised and encouraged. It's a discussion I don't think I could do justice to here.

So instead, I will say that the movie does spin a moving tale, regardless of how much is fact and how much is fiction. The journey that Einar Wegener takes to become Lili Elbe is emotional, filled with highs and lows. And I also the Oscars were very right to single out the actors as key to making the movie work.

Eddie Redmayne plays Einar/Lili, and gives a strong performance. Praising Redmayne's work does lead to still more fair discussion points -- the appropriateness of casting a cisgender actor to play a transgender character, and whether the century-old period setting of this story affects that question in any way. Regardless of whether you see no problem here, or think Redmayne's casting is as offensive as Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany's, the fact remains that Redmayne's work here is excellent: soulful and sympathetic.

But Oscar also got it right in giving a nomination only to Redmayne, and giving an actual win, for Best Supporting Actress, to Alicia Vikander. That's because Vikander, as Einar's wife Gerda, gives an even stronger performance across the board. (And the only controversy there is that she was in the "Supporting" category for what is clearly a Lead role.) Gerda is an even stronger character, even more sympathetic. Vikander lands every moment of the emotional wringer her character goes through, trying to understand how to help the person she loves. As good as Redmayne may be in this movie, one could imagine other performers doing as well with the material. But I'm hard-pressed to think of anyone else that could do what Vikander does here.

Ultimately, the audience for this movie is probably rather narrow. I say that not because it's about a transgender woman, but because it's a sometimes stilted period piece, very much about subtle and close-up acting. I'd give it a B+, though I wouldn't necessarily recommend it to everybody.

Freedom, Rings

Unless you've been hiding in a rainbow-proof cave, you've heard by now that yesterday, the U.S. Supreme Court affirmed the nationwide right to marriage equality for gay and lesbian people. The case of Obergefell v. Hodges will go down in history, much like Loving v. Virginia, the case which in 1967 struck down bans on interracial marriage.

But there's a key difference between the two cases. The correctness of Loving was manifest even at that time: the verdict from the Court was unanimous. The majority opinion in Obergefell, in sharp contrast, was supported by only 5 of the 9 justices. The other 4 justices offered up not just one dissent, but one dissent each (and each variously endorsed by other dissenters). And each is a flawed bit of rhetoric.

At the risk of seeming ungrateful, I'll extend that criticism to the majority opinion itself, authored (as was expected) by Anthony Kennedy. It is, without a doubt, peppered with stirring flourishes. The closing in particular is a powerful piece of writing:

No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family.   In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were.  As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death.  It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage.  Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves.  Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions.  They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law.  The Constitution grants them that right.

But in between lofty passages of the Obergefell ruling, there's not nearly as much legal reasoning as there ought to be. I had similar criticisms of his Windsor ruling, though it turned out that many lower court judges would later read between its lines to infer the correct answer to the larger marriage question. But it's exactly what all those judges wrote -- dozens of district court rulings, and several circuit court rulings -- that makes Kennedy's work seem somewhat lacking by comparison.

If you read any of the opinions from the lower courts in the last two years from the marriage cases leading up to this (and I have -- every one of them), you'll find many examples of judges who articulated the argument more clearly than Kennedy. On the more technical side, there were rulings like Judge Shelby's at the district level in the Utah case, Kitchen v. Herbert -- which systematically refuted every argument made by the other side. Or on the more philosophical side, Judge Posner's ruling for the Seventh Circuit pithily detailed the injustice of the situation, and was loaded with brilliant rhetorical flourishes for the layman. ("Go figure.")

I guess I'd expect a Justice for the Highest Court in the Land to do better. But maybe everything had already been said as well as it could be. In any case, Kennedy's Obergefell ruling is a bit like swiss cheese on the substance, and the dissents all pounce on this. But of course, the dissents are all even worse in their own ways, and only able to get away with being worse because they're not actually engaging the arguments -- they're simply crossing verbal swords with Kennedy. The result is four dissents that seem even less worthy (far less worthy) of the Supreme Court.

Chief Justice Roberts' dissent tries to cast this ruling as having no basis in the Constitution, and compares what the majority has done to the "Lochner era" of the Supreme Court. You can read all about that case and the years that followed in The Case Against the Supreme Court (which I recommend). Suffice it to say that Lochner is generally thought to be right behind Dred Scott (defending slavery) and Korematsu (upholding World War II internment of Japanese Americans) as one of the worst and wrongly decided cases in Supreme Court history. Roberts is making a bold claim to compare Lochner to this same-sex marriage ruling.

And moreover, he's completely ignoring why Lochner is considered to be so wrong. Lochner involved laws established to protect employees at a bakery from inhumane working conditions. The laws were designed to equalize the power balance between the employees (who had to take what job they could get) and the employers (who had no reason to treat their employees well). The Supreme Court in that case crafted an upside-down ruling that would boggle even the Mad Hatter, striking down the laws as unconstitutional infringement of the weak employees' "right" to take a worse deal if they chose to.

In short, Lochner is reviled in legal circles not because it represents judicial overreach, but because it preserved power for the powerful. Roberts' now cries "judicial overreach" without awareness of any irony, after a decade-long string of cases which have cemented power for corporations and the wealthy -- the real repeat of the real travesty of Lochner.

And the dissents only get worse from there. Scalia uses his to flog his pet cause of constitutional originalism -- the idea that people today should be bound by the conceptions of those who wrote laws centuries ago. And his irony detector is even more damaged than Roberts'. He scolds Kennedy for writing an opinion designed to be memorable, when it's he himself who always peppers his opinions with dollar words and bon mots.

Alito wastes a few pages quoting his own dissent from Windsor, and arguing that the real injustice here is that he and others who believe as he does may be branded as bigots. His core argument of course being the very definition of bigotry: "I have nothing against you, I just sincerely believe that you don't deserve the same rights I have."

Worst of all is Clarence Thomas, who pretends that government can neither bestow nor deprive dignity on an individual. He believes he has made this point perfectly with this shocking declaration:

Slaves did not lose their dignity (any more than they lost their humanity) because the government allowed them to be enslaved. Those held in internment camps did not lose their dignity because the government confined them.

If you don't believe slavery or internment are deprivations of dignity and humanity, it seems pretty clear you don't understand a thing about dignity and humanity.

Where have I been going with this lengthy, meandering post? (And kudos to you, if you're still here.) Just this. Yesterday, four Supreme Court judges made utter asses of themselves, and committed their dumbassery to print for all time. And even Kennedy, who at least got the outcome right, revealed himself (in my view) as less knowledgeable and less articulate than dozens of judges on lower courts.

My point: it's time to refresh the Supreme Court. Of course, there's no scheduled mechanism for this. Only when a Justice retires or dies in office does the sitting president then get to nominate a replacement, subject to approval by the Senate.

Think about this next time you're voting for your Senator and for the President. Choose accordingly.

Fatalistic Thoughts

Goodreads hasn't figured out what I like yet. I started using the web site a while back, hoping I could eventually stuff it with enough ratings that it could suggest a few off-the-beaten-path books for me. (Netflix, for example, has become fairly good at anticipating what I'll think of a movie.)

Specifically, I decided at some point that I really wanted to read a book with a gay main character. I'd read a couple of books by Christopher Rice (and had generally liked them), but I was looking to try a new author. So I perused a few suggestions from Goodreads, and decided to check out Fatal Shadows, a mystery-thriller by Josh Lanyon. Despite the sillyish, Danielle Steele-like title, readers seemed to think highly of the book. And if I liked it, Lanyon had written several more adventures featuring the main character.

My review of the book itself, I can encapsulate rather quickly. The prose was sometimes clever, but sometimes corny. The secondary characters felt underdeveloped. The mystery was dull, its "solution" easily anticipated for lack of credible suspects in the story. It was a rather average, and ultimately forgettable, book. But thinking about why I'd had that reaction led to some much more interesting places.

Something just felt "off" about the whole book.The main character, Adrien English, is not an LGBT activist, isn't part of a club scene, and isn't actively dating -- yet his world is somehow inundated with other gay men. I think there may actually be more gay characters than straight characters in the book; I have no clue how he's meeting them all. Of course, my personal experience isn't remotely the only one a gay man can have, but this didn't feel like it reflected reality to me -- any reality, not just specifically mine.

This got me thinking about whether this author had strayed from the old "write what you know" saw. And that in turn made me wonder, if the author in fact wasn't a gay man, what might make him choose to write about one? It hardly seemed like it could have been a strategic decision for bestseller success, particularly in the year 2000 (when this book was first published) -- a time when LGBT acceptance was at a much lower level than it is today.

So I decided to do a little Googling about Josh Lanyon, and quickly found some forums engaged in discussion as to whether he is, in fact, a woman writing under a male pen name. (Josh Lanyon has readily acknowledged that he is using a pseudonym, as he did not want his real name out there.) It turns out that a large swath of fiction featuring gay men -- perhaps even the majority of it -- is actually written by women, for an intended audience of women. They're not primarily mysteries, or sci-fi novels, or contemporary fiction, or whatever. They're essentially romance novels (a genre largely aimed at women), written for a subset of the audience who think that if one sexy man is hot, two of them together is at least twice as hot.

I have no problem with this audience getting stories to satisfy them. (Certainly, they're not generally getting it from film and TV. Those mediums are still at a point where female-female relationships are presented as titillating, while male-male relationships are typically chaste if featured at all. Apparently, girls kissing is awesome, guys kissing is gross.) I also think a man (gay or straight) certainly could choose to write a story of this type if he wished. But with this kernel of doubt about Josh Lanyon's identity planted in my brain, I felt like it might "explain" some of the inauthentic parts of Fatal Shadows.

This in turn got me thinking about sexism. At first, it was me challenging my own reaction. Was I saying anything like, "well, of course a woman couldn't write a gay man believably!" Egad, I hoped not. But that line of thought made me realize some sexist tropes of the mystery genre that were subverted in the book. At the risk of spoiling the ending a bit, I'll say that Adrien Engish, after finding out who the killer is, still proceeds to have sex with him. It's part of a poorly constructed ruse to buy time, and it's utterly ridiculous. But then, isn't this maybe just a gender flip of the traditional "stupid female character who just can't quit her man?" A gender flip of the "weak woman who is powerless against a man, so uses sex to subdue him?" The more I thought about it, the more I really felt it was. And, more importantly, I really felt while reading I was reading it that this resembled no person in any reality I could believe.

How many women have read how many versions of this trope in how many novels, and thought the same thing of a female character? Or worse, what if this trope isn't seen as so ridiculous a departure from reality when featuring a woman as it is when featuring a man? Ugh.

So, ultimately, I suppose I'd have to say Fatal Shadows was a provocative little book. As you can see, it really got me thinking. That said, I hardly think any of this was the result of shrewd authorial intention (regardless of the author's gender). No, I think the book was just a flimsy mystery with average writing. I give it a C. But then, apparently, I'm not the target audience.

I guess I'm back to Christopher Rice for now.

Strange Thoughts

A darling of Sundance and other film festivals, the movie Love Is Strange was at one point talked about as a possible Oscar contender. Somewhere between that splashy arrival, its wide release, and the run-up to the Oscar nominations, all its momentum fell away -- it received no nominations in any category. But I'd heard enough good critic buzz about it to throw it in the Netflix queue anyway.

Love Is Strange is the tale of Ben and George, an old gay couple in their 70s. After nearly 25 years together, they decide (and are finally able) to get married... after which George is immediately fired from his job teaching music at a religious school. Suddenly unable to afford their expensive New York apartment, they look to their friends for help and a place to live. But it soon proves a hardship for everyone.

Although this movie sounds very much like a "Gay Film" on paper, those elements really just push the story into motion. The bulk of the movie is quite universal, neither gay nor straight, and mainly illustrate the difficulties of living with family. Ben moves in with his nephew, putting an immediate strain on his family. The nephew's wife and teenage son wind up most impacted by the new situation; the former works at home and has to deal with Ben day in and day out, while the latter is forced to share his room right at the time of life he most wants privacy. At the same time, Ben is quite set in his ways at his age, unused to living with so many other people. And as his husband George is having to live elsewhere, the two must deal with living apart at a time when they finally were able to marry.

The film's biggest asset is its cast. John Lithgow and Alfred Molina star as Ben and George. Each lends an incredible pathos to his character, and the two are effortlessly authentic as an old couple of 25 years. Marisa Tomei plays Ben's in-law Kate, and does an excellent job portraying a difficult character arc, going from total support of Ben to fed up with his constant presence. Young actor Charlie Tahan is also quite strong as teenage Joey, lashing out against the unwelcome intrusion of "Uncle Ben."

The film is strong in its simplicity, and often quite honest and real. But it also indulges in a few distractions that really hurt its overall effectiveness. There's a side plot involving young Joey and a mysterious friend, with some unsubtle implications about the nature of their relationship. It's not so much that this thread is unnecessary as it is unfulfilled; the movie never really seems to reveal the point. There's also a strange turn near the end of the film. After being starkly realistic for 75 minutes, the final 15 minutes pull a bait-and-switch by bringing in fantasy and imagination. What is surely meant to be poignant instead comes off feeling unearned by what has come before it.

The overall effect of the movie is not bad, but I personally see why it didn't survive to figure into the Oscars this year. I give Love Is Strange a B-. It's fine if you happen to catch it (mostly for the acting), but not necessarily something to seek out.

The People's Brief

When I last dedicated a post to marriage equality, the U.S. Supreme Court had declined to hear a number of cases from multiple Circuit Courts of Appeal. Through their inaction, the Supreme Court paved the way for same-sex marriage in several new states.

Since then, the Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals released an shoddy and contrarian ruling in a group of cases from their four states -- Tennessee, Ohio, Kentucky, and Michigan. Standing against the rising tide, the Sixth Circuit ruled (by a vote of 2 to 1) that bans on same-sex marriage are constitutional. With conflicting rulings now having come from different parts of the country, the Supreme Court could no longer ignore the issue. They agreed to hear an appeal of the ruling in the Sixth Circuit cases; oral arguments will be heard in late April, leading to a ruling in June.

In advance of oral arguments in every Supreme Court case, both sides submit briefs summarizing their legal arguments. In addition, other concerned parties may submit their own amicus (friend of the court) briefs, presenting additional angles they feel were overlooked or given short shrift in the main parties' documents. As you might imagine, these supplementary legal briefs are often ignored by the Supreme Court justices. But a few times a year, an amicus brief rises above the crowd, becoming the focus of questioning during oral arguments, and/or forming the foundation of the Court's eventual ruling. When amicus briefs do matter, they matter a lot.

It should come as no surprise that a large number of amicus briefs are being submitted in these same-sex marriage cases, on both sides of the issue. But one of particular interest is being submitted by the Human Rights Campaign, and it's thought to be the first brief of its kind. The "People's Brief" is intended to represent not just a handful of people, or a company, but tens (hopefully hundreds) of thousands of Americans. Roberta Kaplan, the lawyer who won the last big Supreme Court battle over gay rights, has drafted the brief. She and the HRC are inviting anyone and everyone to affix their name and support, resulting in something part legal brief, part petition.

As with any political petition, it's hard to know if this effort will ultimately affect the outcome. But Kaplan has crafted a document highlighting the same argument with which she won the day last time, in the Windsor case striking down the Defense of Marriage Act. She points out that laws banning gay marriage reflect unconstitutional animus (the legal term being somewhat different than the conventional English definition), and must therefore be struck down.

You can read the People's Brief here, and affix your own name if you so choose. The deadline to do so is tomorrow -- Friday, February 27th, at noon, Eastern time. If you're interested in joining this tiny part of history, give yourself time today to take a look.

Civil (Rights) Discourse

There's been a fair amount of press written about how Selma is the most "wronged" film among Oscar's Best Picture nominees, how its lack of other Oscar nominations is a sign of the undercurrent of casual racism that still flows through Hollywood. That such racism (and sexism) still exists in the movie industry is beyond dispute; it's a shame that one film alone must bear the burden of being Oscar's litmus test. But Selma is, at least, a fairly good film.

Ostensibly the biopic of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Selma mostly avoids falling into the trap of the dry, sweeping biopic by instead focusing on a single event in the man's life. On most levels, Selma is more the "biopic" of the famed civil rights march and the events surrounding it than it is a biopic of its leader. By tightening the scope and timeline that the film portrays, it becomes more real and relatable than most biopic fare. We're spared the long time jumps, the ham-fisted cues in the dialogue noting the passage of time.

The film does a great job of portraying the depth of racist sentiment in 1965 Alabama, of showing how any moment of any day could potentially be a moment for equality to be denied. The level of hatred is so strong, there was probably a risk that it could come off cartoonish on film, but the movie never feels less than real, or the need for change less than urgent.

But the movie does occasionally stray off its prescribed path, dipping its toes in the water of a traditional biopic. These are the moments it lags, scenes that probably should have been cut from the movie. Talk of Malcolm X, and how his militant tactics contrasted with King's, seem appropriate to mention... but the film actually brings Malcolm X on screen for one scene, and not to show that contrast; it's an extraneous bit. A small subplot depicts some strain in the relationship between King and his wife, scenes likely included to flesh out King rather than lionize him. But in a story about Selma, why not lionize King? His possible character flaws have little bearing on the matter, and the film does nothing to round out any of the other people it presents. (Including, in a much-talked-about departure from real history, President Lyndon Johnson.)

That relative lack of focus on character does suit a movie that's ultimately about an event. But fortunately, there are some good performances in the film to help flesh out those characters. Oprah Winfrey, Common, Cuba Gooding Jr, Giovanni Ribisi, Wendell Pierce, Stephen Root, Martin Sheen -- the bench is deep enough that all of those people play quite minor roles in the film. Standing out from that pack are Tim Roth (as the thoroughly odious George Wallace), Tom Wilkinson (as President Johnson), and Carmen Ejogo (as King's wife, Coretta).

Then, of course, there's David Oyelowo as Martin Luther King himself. He does give an exceptional performance, channeling Dr. King with all the precision of a great impersonation, but with more truth and humanity than impersonations usually have. Should he have received a Best Actor nomination for it? Probably. I think I would give Steve Carell's Foxcatcher slot to Oyelowo (but then, I likely would have given the slot to Channing Tatum's Foxcatcher performance anyway).

Selma is a solid film overall. But the "human factor" works on a more generic level than through any specific character, and its few missteps into traditional biopic territory definitely cost it narrative and emotional momentum. I give it a B.

I'm Okay, You're Takei

I recently wrote about Life Itself, the documentary that explored the life of Roger Ebert, with full access to him (in his final days) and those close to him. Not long after I watched it, I caught a similar documentary, another chronicle of a man's life, made with full access to him and those close to him: To Be Takei.

As you can surmise from the title, this documentary focuses on George Takei -- who until a few years ago surely would have been best known as Sulu from Star Trek, though may well now be better known as Facebook's most popular personality. The documentary covers both these aspects of his life, his involvement with the Howard Stern show, and the two great causes for which he advocates.

First is his lineage as a Japanese American, who as a boy was unjustly held in an internment camp by presidential decree during World War II. It's an ugly chapter of American history that not nearly enough people are aware of. Takei has booked many public appearances where he's spoken of his time in a camp, and the documentary covers his latest means of telling his story -- through the creation of an original musical titled Allegiance.

Second is his push for LGBT equality, a cause he threw himself behind when he was among the first actors of reasonable fame to come out as gay. In the documentary, he speaks of the fear for his career that kept him closeted for most of his life, even after he'd long been in a relationship with the man who would eventually become his husband.

The documentary is also subtly revealing of the man behind the causes. George Takei comes off as a born performer always playing to the crowd, happy to laugh and be the butt of a joke so long as others are laughing too. One gets the sense that above everything else Takei is, he's an actor, and would have had to be an actor to find true happiness in his life. You also get snippets of insight from his friends (including fellow Star Trek cast members) and family (including his husband Brad).

Seeing this documentary so soon after Life Itself made me inevitably want to compare the two films, even though Ebert and Takei lived very different lives -- and Takei seems vibrant enough to have a good amount still to live. On the one hand, To Be Takei feels to me like a slightly more substantial film -- though it's quite likely I identify with it more, as a Star Trek fan and gay man. On the other hand, anyone who follows Takei on Facebook (and if you're not, you're doing the internet wrong) will likely know almost everything this documentary has to tell. So all told, I'd average it out to about the same grade, a B-.

I suspect you don't need me to tell you if you're the right audience for it.