âcostume malfunction.â Timberlake wins euphemism of the year, though. But I digress.
My point is, that with Queer Eye, Will & Grace , and politicians weighing in on same-sex marriage, being out is positively in Americaâs face these days. Timing is everything for The L Word .
On the cover of New York magazine, over a gorgeous photo of all the sexy women in the The L Word cast, a banner exclaimed âNot Your Motherâs Lesbians.â
Gee, I didnât know my mother had lesbiansâexcept for me, of course. But thatâs a whole other ballgame.
And speaking of ballgames, the magazine story about Showtimeâs new series made a point. The L Word highlights nary a flannel shirt or softball game. Representative of a wide spectrum of gaydom, itâs not. The women are all gym-bunny thin with gorgeous clothes, expensive cars and Trump-like careers. Itâs very, very upscale Los Angeles. One of my friends called it Melrose Place for lesbians. In The L Word , Jennifer Beals is to most gay women as Sex and the City âs Sarah Jessica Parker is to the majority of straight gals. Hence, it sure is pretty to watch. And not as shocking as it would have been only a few years ago.
But if we think the three years since the debut of Queer As Folk have made a difference in the way we perceive television or movies, what about 18 years?
I remember attending the 1985 premier of the movie Desert Hearts in Washington, DC. Most AARP-eligible lesbians remember the film as the very first movie featuring a lesbian love story where two women actually rode off into the sunset togetherârather than some tragic ending where calamity befell one or both of them. Personal Best premiered in 1882, but predictably Mariel Hemingway went back to boys by the end.
But I remember the Desert Hearts premier like yesterday (probably better than yesterday, alas), seeing hundreds of women converging on the theater and loitering outside. Iâd never seen so many lesbians in public before. Seedy bars in bad neighborhoods, yes, but here we were along Pennsylvania Avenue in the nationâs capital. The motorists driving by had never seen such a thing either, leading to, I swear, a number of screeching tires and at least two crunched fenders in the half hour before the theater doors opened.
But it was inside the theater where history happened. The audience watched, transfixed, as prim Helen Shaver and cute Patricia Charboneau, a âhottieâ in todayâs vernacular, met, intrigued each other and had an affairâincluding a beautifully filmed love scene.
As the women kissed, you could feel tension in the theater. At a literally climactic moment, somebody got carried away and screamed, âOh my!â The rest of the crowd burst out laughing.
Heterosexuals had been watching themselves clasp and gasp on film since Birth of a Nation , but this was our very first chance to experience a filmed love story about people like us. It was magic.
So, too, is The L Word .
Of course, by comparison, Desert Hearts was G-rated for clasping and gasping. The L Word has abundant sex, lingerie, strong language, strong women, nudity and more abundant sex.
Itâs great and terrible all at the same time. Sure, I wish there was more diversity in the characters, less sex for sex sake, and a cast that looks more like lesbian America.
But why quibble. The show is about people I know, have known, or might know in the future. And despite its flaws, that makes it very, very special.
Time wounds all heels. Iâm sorry I was so hard on your show, fellas.
The L Word is for learned my lesson.
March 2004
LETTERS FROM CAMP REHOBOTH
TWILIGHT ZONE, N.Y.
I took a walk up memory lane and into the Twilight Zone last weekend.
The place was the Chelsea Pines B&B in New York City, where I climbed toward heaven in a five-story walk-up and came face to face with memories of my high school prom. Yes, me in a dress. If staring at my old prom
My point is, that with Queer Eye, Will & Grace , and politicians weighing in on same-sex marriage, being out is positively in Americaâs face these days. Timing is everything for The L Word .
On the cover of New York magazine, over a gorgeous photo of all the sexy women in the The L Word cast, a banner exclaimed âNot Your Motherâs Lesbians.â
Gee, I didnât know my mother had lesbiansâexcept for me, of course. But thatâs a whole other ballgame.
And speaking of ballgames, the magazine story about Showtimeâs new series made a point. The L Word highlights nary a flannel shirt or softball game. Representative of a wide spectrum of gaydom, itâs not. The women are all gym-bunny thin with gorgeous clothes, expensive cars and Trump-like careers. Itâs very, very upscale Los Angeles. One of my friends called it Melrose Place for lesbians. In The L Word , Jennifer Beals is to most gay women as Sex and the City âs Sarah Jessica Parker is to the majority of straight gals. Hence, it sure is pretty to watch. And not as shocking as it would have been only a few years ago.
But if we think the three years since the debut of Queer As Folk have made a difference in the way we perceive television or movies, what about 18 years?
I remember attending the 1985 premier of the movie Desert Hearts in Washington, DC. Most AARP-eligible lesbians remember the film as the very first movie featuring a lesbian love story where two women actually rode off into the sunset togetherârather than some tragic ending where calamity befell one or both of them. Personal Best premiered in 1882, but predictably Mariel Hemingway went back to boys by the end.
But I remember the Desert Hearts premier like yesterday (probably better than yesterday, alas), seeing hundreds of women converging on the theater and loitering outside. Iâd never seen so many lesbians in public before. Seedy bars in bad neighborhoods, yes, but here we were along Pennsylvania Avenue in the nationâs capital. The motorists driving by had never seen such a thing either, leading to, I swear, a number of screeching tires and at least two crunched fenders in the half hour before the theater doors opened.
But it was inside the theater where history happened. The audience watched, transfixed, as prim Helen Shaver and cute Patricia Charboneau, a âhottieâ in todayâs vernacular, met, intrigued each other and had an affairâincluding a beautifully filmed love scene.
As the women kissed, you could feel tension in the theater. At a literally climactic moment, somebody got carried away and screamed, âOh my!â The rest of the crowd burst out laughing.
Heterosexuals had been watching themselves clasp and gasp on film since Birth of a Nation , but this was our very first chance to experience a filmed love story about people like us. It was magic.
So, too, is The L Word .
Of course, by comparison, Desert Hearts was G-rated for clasping and gasping. The L Word has abundant sex, lingerie, strong language, strong women, nudity and more abundant sex.
Itâs great and terrible all at the same time. Sure, I wish there was more diversity in the characters, less sex for sex sake, and a cast that looks more like lesbian America.
But why quibble. The show is about people I know, have known, or might know in the future. And despite its flaws, that makes it very, very special.
Time wounds all heels. Iâm sorry I was so hard on your show, fellas.
The L Word is for learned my lesson.
March 2004
LETTERS FROM CAMP REHOBOTH
TWILIGHT ZONE, N.Y.
I took a walk up memory lane and into the Twilight Zone last weekend.
The place was the Chelsea Pines B&B in New York City, where I climbed toward heaven in a five-story walk-up and came face to face with memories of my high school prom. Yes, me in a dress. If staring at my old prom
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