We're queer!
We're here!
Now, let us tell you about it in excruciatingly annoying detail.
THE BROKEN HEARTS CLUB is not a movie about gay men. It is a movie about guys talking about being gay men. And talking and talking and talking. And they don't talk about their lives, but about their lifestyles. These aren't characters, but representations of characters. Watching THE BROKEN HEARTS CLUB is like watching one of those instructional films from high school; you expect there to be a stern-voiced announcer introducing each character: "This is the promiscuous urban homosexual male in his natural habitat, the dance club. Please note how he dances in artful slo-mo, a sure indication that he is on the prowl for sex." The film even has these cutesy title cards inserted between the sequences, offering little definitions of gay terminology: newbie, gym bunnies, etc. These aren't people; they are specimens. It's like the film exists to teach straights just how "real" gay guys are: The result is condescending to straight audiences and patronizing to gays.
Ironically, the filmmakers think that by pointing out the clichés and the stereotypes that are inherent in films about gays that it somehow adds insight and poignancy to all the clichés and stereotypes that the film itself so blatantly trots out. Okay, the film doesn't have the straight woman who uses her gay friend as a pet (i.e., MY BEST FRIEND'S WEDDING), but it does have the gay man who is expected to act as a sperm bank for his sister's lesbian partner. It is a situation that is an oddity, but almost mandatory in gay films; it's like they are trying to prove that gay men can procreate just like "real" straight guys. Again, how patronizing. And there is the mandatory (but irrelevant) drag sequence and the moment of tragedy to show that all gay men are "family." And, of course, the mandatory references to musical divas -- Bette, Barbra, Liza; and especially Karen Carpenter, whose voice is mysteriously missing from the soundtrack. They apparently couldn't get or couldn't afford the rights to her recordings, so they settled for other performers doing weak renditions of Carpenter songs.
I think that it is safe to say that all the actors are straight, because they all play their characters so gay. Not quite swishy and lispy, but a bit arch and obvious. It is like they are appearing in the movie as a stunt, to prove that they can bravely play gay convincingly. Of course, the best way to play gay convincingly is by not playing the part gay at all.
But worse is that these characters don't even represent an interesting array of stereotypes. One is a hunk and one is a nerd and one is black and one is neurotic and one is just coming out, etc., yet, they are all just slight variations of the same one-note character: the promiscuous gay boy looking to settle down with that one true love -- Mr. Right instead of Mr. Right Now. And that isn't even a gay cliché. Indeed, the film goes out of its way to identify with so-called chick flicks: i.e.: "If this were STEEL MAGNOLIAS, you'd be Shirley MacLaine!" They're "real" men, but they're "real" women, too.
The film is harmless and it certainly means well, to the point of being utterly irritating. But the film is just so easy to pick on, because it brings nothing new to the table. The time where the mere presence of a gay character was in itself a revelation has past. Likewise, demystifying the gay lifestyle is hardly new either, thanks to shows like "Will & Grace" and "Queer as Folk." There is simply nothing inherently interesting about being gay; what is needed are films that offer interesting characters who just happen to be gay.
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