I find this so spot on. Bravo.
H/T husbandandhusband.net
I saw a piece on Decider.com this week about Gayby, Jonathan Liseki’s 2012 indie comedy about best friends who decide to have a baby. I bookmarked this piece, Was It Good For the Gays: Gayby, by Tyler Coates because I was assuming that he would have something negative to say and then I would have to refute him.
To my great surprise, we are completely simpatico: he loved it and so did I. And I said so, way back in 2013. Now, I think I may go and watch it again.
Last year, around this time, there were a number of conversations around the topic of “Is Pride still necessary?” After all, we were a year past Windsor, marriage equality was winning in the courts as well as in the court of public opinion. We were done, right? To that, Barbara Weicksel wrote on LGBTQ Nation:
“This world we live in is not always easy. It’s not always filled with love and hope and peace. More often than not, it’s filled with hate and war and people who love to judge.
“We are judged by what we wear, where we live, what we drive, the color of our skin, the tone of our voice, the car we drive, and, yes… who we love.”
This piece prompted me to post the paragraphs below:
Image| Wikimedia Commons: Benson Kua
But today, in a world where marriage equality is surely happening in places that we never thought it might even a year ago, in a world where the web is chock-a-block with gay-themed content even while mainstream television is not, in a world where tolerance, if not outright acceptance, is at a high, certainly in my lifetime, is there really a reason for a pride parade?
Absolutely, unequivocally, YES.
When I went to my first pride parade, I was only ever-so-slightly out. I wasn’t ready to accept myself completely and I certainly didn’t believe that anyone else would. And I was scared to death.
My first pride event was the 1993 March on Washington, D.C. It was so big they made a documentary film about it. There were more people on the Mall that April day than I ever saw at Presidential inaugurals or the insanity that is the 4th of July in the capital. I was in awe of that crowd.
And I learned that I absolutely was not alone; that there were, at the very least, a million other people just like me who descended on Washington that day; that I would be all right and that, in today’s parlance, it would get better.
In spite of the Internet and web series and Sunday morning talk shows and Oprah and self-help d’jour, there is, I guarantee it, somebody in Connersville, Indiana or Orangeburg, South Carolina or Bend, Oregon or New York City who is scared and desperate and does not yet understand that it is okay to be themselves. The bloody, bold, resolute, wild and garish pride parade is a hell of a lot more than cute boys dancing on a parade float; it’s a message that everyone can and will be accepted. Keep it going!
June 2015
Flash forward a year and we are on the cusp of what could be the greatest civil rights court decision of our generation if the Supreme Court upholds the circuit court mandates that states must recognize all civil marriages in the Obergefell case. We’re on the edge of what feels like a new generation. A new hopefulness. A new renaissance of thought, if you will.
And yet, when the cover of the new Vanity Fair magazine came out this week featuring Caitlyn Jenner, I read some of the nasty, horrible, spiteful comments that are so pervasive on social media and I realized that this hopeful renaissance is just in certain bubbles. We have so much farther to go to reach acceptance. And mere acceptance is basically just the toleration of differences. We must not settle for mere acceptance.
How much does it hurt you to call someone by the name they want? To use the pronoun they want? To not worry about who used which bathroom? Did you hurl vitriol at Bruce when he was winning that gold medal? Did you watch him on TV when he was married to a Kardashian? If Bruce Jenner, as was, wants to transition, if she now prefers the feminine gender pronoun, if she wants to pee sitting down in the ladies room, what the hell business is it of yours?
Somehow there are religions being created out there evidently that require you to submit to specific gender roles defined on television shows like Ozzie & Harriet in the 1950s. It’s just nuts. I tend to think that, like in most other things, Mr. Rogers said it best:
“Love isn’t a state of perfect caring. It is an active noun like struggle. To love someone is to strive to accept that person exactly the way he or she is, right here and now.”
Remember that, please, whoever you are reading this.
Codified discrimination disguised as “religious freedom” is the watchword of the day. Beware. |Image: Justin Sullivan/Getty via Slate.
And then, if that weren’t enough, in the wackadoo state where I was born, the legislature is trying to override the governor’s veto to codify into law that it is okay for a magistrate not to do their job if they think something may violate their religious beliefs — like marrying two men. It’s just so stupid it’s laughable, but they’ve already passed the override in the senate, the house is not far behind, I fear. I just weep for the people who live in these horrible, oppressive states.
Of course, it’s not just gay people. You can use one of these crazy laws to not marry people of different genders or religions or hair textures or because you think someone once met a Muslim and didn’t stone them to death. It’s macabre. It’s medieval. There’s a great op-ed about this in the Charlotte Observer. Well, great is not the word I’d use, really; achingly sad and annoyingly outrageous, more like.
Somehow, these moronic legislators keep getting elected. Well, dearly beloveds, tell everyone you know: don’t fucking vote for them any longer.
OH, AND THEN — because today can’t be any more surreal — the jackhole governor of Indiana, has written a letter allegedly supporting Indy Pride that never once uses any of the following words: gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, inclusion or support. Fuck off, Indiana. Another place to scratch off the vacation list.
So, do we still need Pride? You’re damn right we do.
Come out, come out, wherever you are. And please, share this with a friend.
A new study has refined the longstanding view that earning a college degree is associated with positive health trends, such as not becoming obese. On this health factor, the key is earning a degree before getting married, according to a new study. It found that those who get married before they earn a college degree are 65 percent more likely to become obese than are those who earn a degree and then get married. The research appears in the Journal of Health and Social Behavior.
—Inside Higher Ed, May 28, 2015
I always say: you can’t go wrong with Cole Porter. I mean, you can, if you’re stupid, but it’s pretty damn hard. Hartford Stage takes Kiss Me, Kate, arguably Porter’s best musical, and gives it a full-throated production that is devilishly clever and full of all the wit and rhythm that assures us that the Pride of Peru, Indiana remains the best there ever was.
Mike McGowan, center in fantastic hat, leads a bravura ensemble in Hartford Stage’s production of Cole Porter’s masterful Kiss Me, Kate. |Image: broadwayworld/supplied.
Kiss Me, Kate is allegedly based on the backstage and onstage antics of Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne — “the Fabulous Lunts” — when they played The Taming of the Shrew in the 1930s. The apocrypha goes that Saint Subber worked on the Lunts’ Shrew and took the idea of a feuding theatrical couple to Samuel and Bella Spewack, who wrote the book. Subber, who produced Kate on Broadway and made his name producing Neil Simon plays, swore that the story was true, but the Spewacks disputed it.
Either way, it matters not. Kiss Me, Kate is as inventive and as captivating today as it was on opening night in 1948. Tony Award-winnng director Darko Tresnjak knows how to keep a show moving and also how to mine the sly Porter lyrics for every comic nugget. Tresnjak’s set is cleanly and inventively designed by Alexander Dodge and seamlessly transitions between onstage and backstage worlds just as it should.
Megan Sikora as Lois and Tyler Hanes as Bill stand out in a tremendous cast. Sikora’s comic timing is a perfect counterpoint to Hanes’ smooth sensational dancing. |Image: Cloe Poisson
One of the things about Kate is that it’s a mistake to put all of your emphasis on the two leads. As Fred/Petruchio, Mike McGowan gives a terrific, open performance — so much better, in my opinion, than the overly-operatic take of Brian Stokes Mitchell in the last Broadway revival — and Anastasia Barzee’s Lilli/Kate is his match, but the show would sag quickly if the only substance in the play was the leads bickering, making up, and then falling out again and generally trying to play facsimiles of the Lunts.
In many ways, Kate should — and this Kate does — belong to the second leads. Tyler Hanes as Bill/Lucentio and Megan Sikora as Lois/Bianca waste no time in simply waltzing away with the show. Yes, McGowan gets those fun alliterative Porter tongue twisters (I’ve Come to Wive It Wealthily in Padua and Where is the Life That Late I Led?) and Barzee gets to showcase her pipes with So In Love and I Am Ashamed That Women are So Simple, but straight out of the gate, Hanes and Sikora get the stage to themselves with Why Can’t You Behave? and they own it from then on; even before Hanes practically stops the show in the hilarious Tom, Dick or Harry — or any other time there’s a dance break; he’s sublime as he executes Peggy Hickey’s terrific choreography.
As we get into the second act, Sikora gives a tremendous rendition of one of my all-time favorite showtunes, Always True to You in My Fashion, which is such a classic cheeky Porter invention, but Tresnjak’s staging of the nimble Hanes appearing and disappearing in every conceivable corner of the stage doubles the enjoyment and Hanes doesn’t get a chance to breathe before launching into the whimsical Bianca (bee-ANK-uh, for those uninitiated).
No one hits anything even approaching a wrong note here. Everything is on the money. A couple of additional shoutouts: James T. Lane is phenomenal leading the ensemble in the Act II opener; Brendan Averett and Joel Blum are sublimely ridiculous as the gangsters who assay that sensational piece of Porter nonsense, Brush Up Your Shakespeare; and someone needs to give Fabio Toblini a handful of awards for his brilliant costumes — especially Petruchio’s hats, which are some of the most hilarious pieces of millinery I’ve seen onstage in a long, long time.
All in all, this Kiss Me, Kate: too darn hot.
It plays through June 14 in Hartford before sitting down for a month in San Diego at the Old Globe (July 1 — Aug. 2), following the same path Tresnjak took with Gentleman’s Guide. Is Broadway next? Here’s hoping. See it.
ODDS & ENDS
Lately I’ve noticed that in the decade that I’ve been out of the business, the American theatre has forgotten every single solitary damn thing I taught it about marketing. I could be lured back, if you smile pretty and promise not to be too naughty. Just saying.
I have to say that I was disappointed in Elizabeth Williamson’s dramaturgical notes in the playbill. In this day and age, I think you should contextualize the Lunts more than just referring to them as “one of the greatest husband and wife acting teams of all time.” Look up “lavender marriage.” Then look up Cole and Linda Porter while you’re at it. Finally, Saint Subber and Monty Clift. That’s your theatrical history brush up for the day. Title it: A Gay Old Time in Padua!
Finally, as we were leaving the show, I turned to my significant other and said, “Jesus, I would give my eye teeth to dance like Tyler Hanes.” Truth. He just put his arm around my shoulder and said, “Maybe in your next life.” Damn. Cold comfort can hurt!
from today’s Inside Higher Ed
LeTourneau U Bars Athletes From Same-Sex Dating
May 21, 2015
LeTourneau University, a Christian university in Texas, has adopted an athletes’ handbook that bars athletes from “same-sex dating behaviors and public advocacy for the position that sex outside of a biblically defined marriage is morally acceptable.” The handbook’s language was revealed by the website Outsports. It is not known if there are any gay athletes at the university. A spokesperson said via email to Inside Higher Ed that “our policy has always reflected who we are as a private Christian university. That’s not new.”
*sigh* Grow up already.
I spent much of my free time over the last week binge watching the first season of the new Netflix comedy Grace & Frankie starring Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin. There are 13 episodes, each just a little bit better than the last.
Here’s the set up, in case you haven’t heard of this already: Grace (Fonda) is married to Robert (Martin Sheen). Frankie (Tomlin) is married to Sol (Sam Waterston). Robert and Sol are law partners. Grace and Frankie tolerate each other on their best days, Robert and Sol confess to Grace and Frankie that they’ve been having an affair — with each other! — for the last 20 years. And that’s your set up.
Waterston, Tomlin, Fonda and Sheen are the talented quartet that lead the superlative new Netflix series Grace and Frankie. |Image: Indiewire.
It’s a fairly straightforward sitcom fish-out-of-water plot, albeit with a modern twist, and in the hands of average actors, the material — which is, by the by, crisply and tightly written — would do just fine, but this is an example of what happens when you hand a script to a quartet of the finest actors you can imagine and just let them run with it.
Fonda and Tomlin haven’t lost a beat since they last acted together in 9 to 5 three and a half decades ago, Tomlin is as gifted today as she was on Laugh-In the 1960s. There is such a dearth of good, meaty roles for older women and this show is the perfect example of what can happen when good material ends up in the hands of women who can show you how it’s supposed to be done. They are such a pleasure to watch. There are plenty of good scenes in this show, but the two-handers with Tomlin and Fonda, well, you feel like you are peeking in on something truly special. And you are.
And another thing: Jane Fonda is 77 years old. She is, without a doubt, the sexiest 77-year-old in the world. Luminous. Utterly and completely luminous.
I saw an early notice where the writer said that Sheen and Waterston seemed uncomfortable with the physicality of their roles. After seeing a few episodes, I went back to that. This person is not an older gay man, I concluded. And I was right: the author was a young woman.
Granted, Sheen and Waterston have a few decades on me, but I absolutely see the truth in these men, who have finally come to terms with who they are so late in life. It is not yet fluid to them. They are very affectionate, but a bit more reserved, a bit more tentative. They have lived through a time when showing too much affection was a recipe for a beating. Or death. I understand their reserve more than people younger than I, but I also cannot comprehend the terror that that generation faced. They are effortless, exceptional performers and I think this is the best, most authentic portrayal of older gay men we’ve yet seen on television.
The first thirteen are not tied up in a pretty bow. There’s a bittersweet little twist at the end of the last episode. There are belly laughs aplenty, but this show is much deeper than a traditional sitcom. There are places where hard subjects are tackled and the drama that informs the comedy is allowed to play out. It’s a smart, smart series. I wouldn’t expect anything less from this bunch.
So, do yourself a favor, watch it. You’ll be glad you did.
There really aren’t words … but I’ll try.
HOW DUMB ARE YOU, BUDWEISER? Did no one in your marketing department raise this issue? Did no one think this might possibly be offensive in some (if not all) circumstances? Did no one care that there could be backlash? Did no one factor in the cost of recalling all of those beer bottles? The idiot of the week award goes to ….
Perhaps the Clydesdales could have done better.
At any rate, thank heavens for John Oliver, a voice of reason in this sea of utter madness.
I decided to check out the web series Just Us Guys last week and found that I’ve really enjoyed it. It’s constructed as a direct address vlog — we all know those and probably subscribe to several — and while it may be lacking in blocking, it’s definitely worth a watch.
Skyler Seymour as Max Sherman and Scott Hislop as his dad, Scott Young in the meta vlog series, Just Us Guys. |Image fr. Snobby Robot.
The conceit is that a single-parent gay dad and his straight son decide to begin vlogging together as a bonding experience. Along the way you learn that the son is generally the more mature one, the grandma is a bigot trying to redeem herself, both the father and son start dating, and along the way, you find yourself beginning to form a real connection with these characters, who are not presented as characters but as real people on a real vlog.
It’s a clever leitmotif, I have to acknowledge, but I think its the likability of the leads that makes one come back again and again to these short, well, vlog-size, bites. Scott Hislop is the father, Scott, and Skyler Seymour is the son, Max. They’re effortless performers who have great chemistry and the relationship is completely believable. It’s a bit more forced when other characters are introduced and the two-hander set-up is thrown out, but I am glad to see inclusion of all sorts, including Max’s deaf girlfriend, Beth, played by Amanda McDonough. Both Seymour and McDonough sign as well as speak through their scenes, again quite effortlessly.
Chris Lilly has come up with nearly 40 episodes as of this writing and they are currently on a riff about bullying. I hope they continue; it’s a show that’s educating and entertaining. Good on you, sir.
Here’s an embed of Episode One. You can subscribe on YouTube.
P.S. to my Days of our Lives groupies: Tammy Taylor, who plays Scott’s mother on Just Us Guys, played Hope Williams prior to Kristian Alfonso taking the character into the soap stratosphere as one-half of one of Days‘ most popular supercouples of all time. Ya learn something new every day!
Logan Westrope (left) and Michael Martin post-prom. Photo by Jodi Brotman Westrope| Image: Outsports.com
In my 2014 Top 10 Posts list, I noted that the 10th most-viewed post on this blog last year was actually a piece from 2013 about a gay couple heading to their high school prom in Carmel, New York.
This story, published first (I believe; apologies if my research is entirely inaccurate!) on Outsports, is a piece about a gay couple going to the prom in West Virginia. Somehow, it’s that West Virginia angle that grabs you. That takes some cojones. Or maybe not, anymore. Even in West Virginia. All I know is that it sure as hell wouldn’t have happened in my southern hometown back in the dark ages when I had my high school prom which, for the record, I did not attend.
One of the young men will attend Wilson College in Chambersburg, Pa. in the fall. Having intimate knowledge of that institution, I’ll keep a weather eye out.
One Last Word 