My
husband and I went to the movies on a Saturday night. We went to see Love is Strange, which is being sold as the Hollywood “old gay couple” movie of the
summer.
We
walk into the theater about fifteen minutes before the start of the show. In
the tiny audience, we spot older male/female couples (whom we assume are
heterosexual) and a lonely middle age man sitting apart –whom we label a gay
man. “Hum, interesting,” we wonder. We sit with our popcorn and drinks on hand.
More people walk in as the previews roll: one middle age or senior heterosexual
couple after the other. We become curious, checking out every soul in the
theater. “Are we the only gay couple?” My husband is freaking out. “Yes, honey,
we have become irrelevant.”
Time
passes and we get nervous. The movie will start soon and there only three gay
people in the theater. My husband gets up: “Let’s make sure we are in the right
theater.” I open my Fandango app in my iPhone to double check. This is not a
mistake. The lights dim. Then we see two guys (pretty sure they are gay, but
perhaps not a couple) walk in. We want to wave at them: “C’mon boys, sit here,
this is the gay row!” Another two guys walk in soon after; that’s it.
In
a strange cinematic-like twist, we were the minority (again, or still). The
gay-themed movie was a product of heterosexual culture – for the pleasure of
mainstream audiences. I remembered a similar, but lesser, effect with Brokeback Mountain (2005): heterosexual audiences filling up movie theaters. We, gay
people, in Hollywood movies, are not threatening. We are likeable and even
lovable – especially if we are the loving-couple-type or the
vulnerable-asexual-senior-citizen-type. And Hollywood movies at times mirror
reality.
This
wasn’t the movie my husband and I came to watch, in more than one way. Maybe we
were naïve. We left wondering what was “gay” about the movie.
