The Concept of Queer in British Films - Report Example

A discussion of the concept of ‘queer’ in British films Introduction Queer theory critically investigates the fundamental idea that any particular sexuality can be “natural” and “immutable” while expanding its lens to include all manner of sexual activities or identities that may either be put in the normative or deviant categories. Queer media, which encompasses websites, films, magazines, among other cultural products, became a common phenomenon from the ‘70s through the ‘80s and ‘90s, with the increasing pervasion with the concept of queer aesthetics. Queer media has often sought to challenge the traditional knowledge of what is known as universal truths and it relies on the uniqueness of visual vocabularies, the usually perceived despicable, hyperbolic or showy images that are recognizable as queer. Queer media often has a profound impact given its ability to engage with and address events as well as ideas that are of concern to the queer community; traditionally, the film industry, typically the Americanized Hollywood, has been at the core of criticism for marginalizing and silencing queer people through their negative portrayals of homosexuality. This paper will explore the concept of queer in relation to three archetypical queer films including Derek Jarman’s Sebastiane (1976), Basil Dearden’s “Victim” (1961), and Stephen Frears’ “My Beautiful Laundrette.” A historical perspective of queer cinema Through the ‘1890s and ‘1980s, the gay and lesbian characters in films were heavily defined by their sexual positioning and did not have any complex character development. From 1890s to around 1930s in particular, homosexuality was often depicted as an object of ridicule and laughter in films while from 1930s to 1950s, Hollywood was heavily criticized for promoting immorality by religious and women’s groups. In response to the heightened criticism, Hollywood introduced a self-censorship code that greatly inhibited the overt portrayal of homosexuality, which led to the codification of homosexuality into characters’ mannerisms and behaviours. Nonetheless, the film industry has remained cautious in its depiction of queerness such as gay themes, characters and experiences, particularly given that many film firms seek to appeal to large audiences and by focusing on queer topics they risk offending a significant portion of their audience or losing potential investors. Queerness concept cannot be divorced from the study of film since queer cinematic images react to the potential of film as a lens for subversive reimagining, which generates a simulative, avant-garde platform for reconceptualization of infinite sexual meanings, pleasures as well as interpretations. Queer cinematic experiences help in the reconstruction of individual perceptions or views of whom and how they desire as well as whom and how they identify themselves; Queerness in the British cinematic narrative remained largely invisible till the release of Victim in 1961 (Griffiths, Robin 2006, pg.9) Derek Jarman’s “Sebastiane” (1976) Jarman’s “Sebastiane” is one of the earliest most overtly homophobic films ever made in the history of the film industry; this film has been hailed as a highly creative work in not only the era of its release but also in the subsequent gay and queer cinema histories. In this feature film, Jarman undermines the classic style of film narration that characterized the commercial releases at the time of the film’s release (Lippard, 1996, pg.12). The film offered a consistent homoerotic appreciation of the male physique as well as an alternative view of masculinity that had never been seen before in the history of the British films. Jarmain establishes a cinematic enunciation of the queer desire by rewriting and appropriating the conventional Saint “Sebastiane” through a gay and overtly queer lens. Jarman has been recognized as one of the most influential independent filmmakers in England in the 1980s (Wymer, 2006 pg.5); he stands out as a significant figure due to his exploitation of emblems and symbols in associative contexts, unlike his contemporaries, who used them in the conventional cause-effect narratives. Generally, “Sebastiane” depicts excessive sexual undertones, particularly sexual sacrality, respectful self-abolition and queer desire; the films’ overtly queer cinematic experience is only comparable to an act of worship. Set in the era of the Roman Empire during the Christian persecutions, “Sebastiane” explores the story of Saint “Sebastiane”, who is banished to a remote outpost when he upsets Emperor Diocletian; here, the leader of the outposts, who sadistically delights in punishing his soldier, desires “Sebastiane”. Even though “Sebastiane” is believed to be an early Christian following his iconic martyrdom by arrows, Sebastian worships the Roman sun god phoebus Apollo whose desire for his male companions is redirected to the worship of his deity and pacifism. The commanding officer of the outpost where “Sebastiane” is exiled becomes greatly obsessed with the “Sebastiane” after seeing him take an early morning shower (Dillon 2004, pg.68), and even attempts to assault him and in the end he oversees Sebastiane’s execution for failing to take up arms to defend the Roman Empire. One of Sebastiane’s comrades in arms known as Sebastiane is also seriously in love with Sebastiane and even though his love is unreciprocated, Justine remains friends with the celibate pacifist. Two of Sebastiane’s fellow soldiers, Adrian and Anthony, are gay and seriously in love with each other, like most of the soldiers at the outpost who have turned into having intimacy amongst themselves as a mechanism of coping with and relieving tension. Sebastiane remains marked as the outsider throughout the film, strange and overtly queer, partly due to his religion too, and he seeks isolation to the company of the others. Sebastiane prefers to be alone because he finds his intense inner life to be more essential than the company of others. Sebastiane remains aloof and does not seek to make any social connections even when the other soldiers genuinely offer him friendship and love rather than the rough camaraderie characteristic of regiments. Jarmain depicts Sebastiane as a queer character by disassembling of the body as a prescription of sexuality and gender; furthermore, Sebastiane’s constant praise of his god’s body reveals his narcissistic pleasure (Dillon 2004, pg.92). Precisely, Sebastiane constantly speaks in praise of his beautiful god’s body, which in real sense is either the reflection of the sun or Sebastiane’s narcissistic pleasure; by constantly obsessing himself with his own exquisite body, Sebastiane is actually worshipping himself. Jarman constantly contrasts Sebastiane’s praise of the beautiful body of Christ with the protagonist’s visual image as he relishes his own flesh or narcissistically gazes upon his own reflection or the sun’s reflection. In Sebastiane, Jarman attempts to create a visually sacred and sexual reality thereby engendering a sort of religious subjectivity through the film’s queer concept of the protagonist; Sebastiane strikes as a queer media form since in it, Jarman creates both a religious and queer reality. Sebastiane is thus best approached as a queer rather than a particularly gay male cinematic experience, which interrogates the views deeply embedded in at the core of conventional cinematic spectatorship and defies the binary categorizations of gay and straight. The film queerly interrogates the normative cinematic gaze thereby overtly prompting its audiences to question their own sexual subjectivity that is strongly influenced by the traditional narrative film. Precisely, the film greatly undermines its audiences’ invisible, powerful gazes that might seek to objectify, classify and categorize the bodies it depicts; Jarman exploits aesthetics such as a dazzling light that blinds the spectator from regimenting the characters he portrays. Furthermore, Sebastiane’s characters defy the conventional sexual categorizations of gay or straight thereby interrogating the views of appropriate masculinity and cultural perspectives that appropriate specific sexualities for specific bodies. The sadomasochistic power play between Severus and Sebastian coupled with Max’s excessive pervasion with performing and instating hyper-masculinity in others while participating in aggressive sexual horseplay all are indicative of the film’s critique of universal views regarding sexualities. Sebastiane queerly disassembles sexual dimorphism through its portrayal of sadomasochistic and narcissistic sexuality, which not only challenges the universal gaze at male bodies, but also questions the idea that bodies prescribe sexuality and gender (Dillon 2004, p.63). Queer aesthetics in Jarman’s Sebastiane including the film’s gay male sadomasochism visual and psychological aspects like nudity, submission, loss of subjectivity as well as bodily signs of ecstasy and climax highlights the director’s queer cinematic lens. The film draws a close connection between gay male sadomasochism and queer sacrality; for instance, Sebastiane pursues masochistic thrills through provocation of punishments as seen in his failure to reciprocate Captain Severus’ love. Later, the soldiers flog Sebastiane thoroughly while hanging him with his hands behind his head and stake him out in the sun before burning him with a candle and rubbing sand in his wounds. The film’s editing highly sexualizes these punishment events by comparing Sebastiane’s flogging with the soldiers drivelling over a naked picture of a woman; furthermore, Sebastiane’s agreeableness to these punishments indicates that he finds them erotic. Eventually, Sebastian’s execution in the end nuances a sort of religious ecstasy with an overtly sexual redolence which is highlighted through the long, medium as well as close-up shots of Sebastiane’s pierced body on the backdrop of a bare and barren landscape and the soundtrack of a sighing wind in the background. Sebastiane’s punishment is also highly romanticized with the absence of synchronized sound such as the whirring of arrows through air, the thud of impact, as well as voices of soldiers, which makes it utterly impossible to correlate the shot arrows with any physical consequences. Furthermore, Jarman’s iconic slow motion of cinematic eroticism highlights the erotic pleasure on Sebastiane’s face each time an arrow penetrates his body through a close-up while a long shot of Sebastiane’s body also reveals his semi-erect manhood. Basil Dearden’s “Victim” (1961) Most psychoanalysts have defined the movie as a ‘watershed moment. It was yet another prosperous film during the wave of independent gay and Lesbian cinematography. It was released six years prior to the enactment of the Sexual Offences Act of 1967 that apparently interdicted homosexuality for consenting males above 21 years. It systematically depicts the dark days that Dearden experienced under Thatcher’s reign. Produced in 1961, the film narrates the story of Melville Farr, a successful barrister, who has a thriving London practice. He is opportunely married to his wife Laura and speculations about him becoming the Queen’s Counsel have build-up. A young working class boy, Barrett, with whom Farr shared a romantic relationship, approaches Farr. Farr rebuffs the approach after realizing that Barrett wanted to blackmail him about their relationship (Drummond, 2001 pg. 39). Remarkably, Barrett had already fallen prey of extortionists who were already aware of the quixotic relationship between Farr and Barrett. The director uses a slow progress of shots which move adjacent and are interspersed with groans and frissons, depicting the cuddles, kisses, and the intense gaze between the male characters. Barrett is held in police custody after failing to pay some debt and decides to hang himself since he knew that the police would force him to reveal the ‘man in his life” who the director purposefully makes the audience believe that it was Farr. After Barrett’s death, Farr discovers that Barrett was married and the blackmail ring that he had given him was also given to several other men. Conspicuously, the ring had victimized a gay coiffeur but he declines to disclose who the tormentors were. The film strikes as a blatantly queer lesbian heartthrob movie that is set in a fantastical setting where all the socio-political significances and circumstantial realities are demoralized and anything goes. The film utilizes a slow progress of shots that are always moving closer and punctuated with sighs and shivers, depicting the caresses, kisses, and the intense gaze between the protagonists. The blackmailers vandalize Farr’s property and leave a note saying, "FARR IS QUEER" on his door to connote that Farr was a homosexual living in a poor conurbation (Drummond, 2001 pg. 28). Meticulously, Farr ensnares the extortionists and are subsequently detained. Deceptively, Farr articulates his wife to leave so that she does not witness that the brutal viciousness that will transpire during his trial. He burns a picture that incriminated him, but still acts in an apprehensive manner that portray that he still clandestinely admires Barrett long after he died. As an independent lesbian feature film, “Victim” uses realistic narrative techniques to explore the coming out and romance of gay lovers and it stands out as the first full-length gay love story to ever hit the awnings. Farr and Barrett ruckus with incompatible desires and their sense of compulsion to the society, but ultimately they are drawn to each other both because of their dominant fascination to each other and the emptiness each of them fills in the other (Drummond, 2001 pg. 52). The film conjures very passionate and erotic connection through its momentous queer-laced filmmaking experience that significantly reverberates with both the gay and conventional audiences the world over. “Victim” is depicted as one of the movies that greatly influenced the way queerness is cinematically epitomized in the contemporary world. Apparently, the British and the entire world have compromised social and religious norms and have now sanctioned the bitter fact that queerness is progressively engraving a substantial portion of the world (Drummond, 2001 pg.104). From a modern perspective, there is air of fussiness about how it portrays its gay characters as jittering smashups that can hardly touch each other while the characters surreptitiously engage in romanticized relationships. However, it is transparently and cleverly reveals the subject matter that is apparently revealed when a police officer states that, “You know, of course, that he was a homosexual’ about a recently murdered man” (Drummond, 2001 pg. 112). Remarkably, the heightened scene of the film is when Farr feverishly confesses his sexual attraction to Barrett. Dearden does not suggest that homosexuality need to be ratified and/or accepted by molding the gay characters as unsullied, angelic people in affection, but as human beings with covetousness and desire just like the heterosexuals (Griffin, 2006 pg. 122). In the movie, the queer characters keep on drifting and ostensibly venerated by some people. This indicates that queerness is not bound by any social, political, economic, or physical restrictions. Notably, like the majority of the early ‘60’s queer cinema, “Victim” depicts Barrett and Farr as fledgling, free-floating souls that are persistently searching for profound experiences and further spread their ideologies or behaviors. The cyclical keynote of movement in the queer cinema is often a captivating notion of the transferability of queerness. “Victim” was sociologically significant in influencing the liberalization of attitudes in Britain (Griffiths, 2006 pg. 182). The film implies that homosexuality, just like heterosexuality, is a choice. This is perceived as a dangerous idea to put into the minds of adolescents watching the film. Certain people recommend that the film should have been presented through cryptic innuendos to illustrate the horrors of the homosexuality lifestyle. However, the director deliberately used undertones and shaped his characters to appear so unsympathetic in an effort to reduce criticisms anti-gay prejudices. Extraordinarily, he flourished in this by dexterously manipulating scenes and effective utilization of the stage, and homosexuality or gay relationships in particular happened to be recognized as a non-queer practice. The heteronormative behavior and the commonly held ideas about gender and sexuality challenged and reexamined. However, through his directive skills he managed to appeal to a substantial audience that found the movie helpful while he also lost the ethically, upright portion that perceived the film as being debauched. Stephen Frears’ “My Beautiful Laundrette” 1985 It is a 1985 British comedy released by Working Title Films and directed by Stephen from a script previously written by Hanif Kureishi. It depicts a story set in London during Thatcher’s administration. The comical and comical relationships between members of the Whites and Asian communities are significantly illustrated. The film begins with a monotonous day in the life of Omar, the movie’s superman, a young man urgently in need of a job. Nasser, his uncle, is one of the most successful members of the Pakistan community in London where he owns several chain stores. Nasser gives Omar a job and recommends that Omar should be married even to his own daughter (Geraghty, 2005 pg. 28). The director creates suspense and speculations as to whether Omar will ever get married since earlier in the film, a queer scene was presented. A gang of nasty neofascist Paki-bashers stopped Omar and his friends, but outrageously Omar walked to Johnny, the gang leader, and greeted him with affection. Apparently, the two men had been lovers for quite some time (Geraghty, 2005 pg. 67). However, the film does not hint whether Omar and Johnny will remain lovers but leaves upon the audience to roll on build up quandaries and speculations of what happens when Johnny abandons his gang and joins Omar in the search for the lottery. The film adds the conflict between gay and straight, but apparently the director takes no side, but uses highly romantic songs to depict the admiration that exists between the two young men whenever they are together. Omar and Johnny make dance together and make love in the Laundrette and Nasser almost caught up with them, but they claim that they were sleeping. The subtleties encompassed in Omar and Johnny’s relationship are handled with prodigious flimsiness. However, it is a gay friendly film in the way that Omar and Johnny ostensibly confront the challenges of an antagonistic environment without sequestering or compromising themselves. Despite the bitchy remarks, much mincing about, and the overtly cuddling and caressing of the two lovers, the director eminently portrays them as intersexual. Through the film, the director defamiliarizes some of the ubiquitous suppositions of heteronormative (Geraghty, 2005 pg. 98). From his performances, Omar is a bright, but passive young man who has not yet figured out how he will approach the world and he is merely struggling to understand himself and the world in general. However, Nasser and Johnny introduce him into a queer behavior. The queer experience has reconstructed his views and/or perceptions of whom he longs to be and how he identifies himself. Remarkably, Nasser is secretly married to two wives who are expected to fight anytime they meet (Geraghty, 2005 pg. 89). The two are in one apartment but have never seen met. This is also a queer behavior, as the Pakistan community did not approve such clandestine engagements. The film exceptionally features queer acts and reiterates the concept of movement/spread in queer films an act that informs their circumstances and partisanships (Griffiths, 2006 pg. 192). Given that the inescapable engagement of queer films with the idea of movement lingers on throughout the development of this genre through to the latest films implies that it was not by chance that earliest queer films were road movies. The movie significantly illustrates that the notion of origin does not make sense without the concept of copy (Geraghty, 2004 pg. 192). As Britain advanced socially, economically, and politically, people continued copying the queer acts presented in the movie and homosexuality in particular became an inordinate component of life. Notwithstanding the cantankerous subject matter, “My Beautiful Laundrette” is an authentication that the audience will react to unconventional subject matters depending on the quality therein (Geraghty, 2005 pg. 102). The film seems to be more radical with each passing year. The director continuously challenges traditional ideas about gender, sexuality, and society. It is one of the contemporary movies where gay characters are positively depicted. The above elucidations evidently indicate that concept of queerness has often been at the core of the study of film since queer cinematic experiences have been perceived to provide a lens for dissident reimagining that enable the creation of a simulative, new platform for recapturing infinite sexual meanings, pleasures and interpretations. Queer cinematic experiences have often emphasized the idea that queerness is often moving and queer characters are free souls that cannot be contained through the persistent metaphor of the road; precisely, queer experiences reconstruct individual perceptions or views of whom and how they desire as well as whom and how they identify themselves. Sebastiane is portrayed as the archetypical sadomasochistic and narcissistic link between beauty, pain and ecstasy. The film’s overt indulgence of sacrality aesthetics, queer desire, as well as self-abolition accentuates its cinematic involvement of queer nimiety that is greatly analogous to an act of worship; eventually, the film creates a platform for the development of suggestive and religious prejudices. Queer behaviors will continue thriving despite massive criticisms from mass Medias and members of the public. References Dillon, S. 2004. Derek Jarman and Lyric Film: The Mirror and the Sea. Texas: University of Texas Press. Drummond, W., Green, J., & McCormick, J. (2001). Victim. London: Transworld. Geraghty, C. (2004). My Beautiful Laundrette: Turner Classic Movies British Film Guide. London: I.B. Tauris & Co. Geraghty, C. (2005). My beautiful laundrette. London: I.B. Tauris. Griffin, B. 2006. Queer Images: A History of Gay and Lesbian Film in America. Lanham, Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. Griffiths, R. (ed.). 2006. British Queer Cinema. London: Routledge. Lippard, C. 1996. By Angels Driven: The Films of Derek Jarman. Westport, CT: Greenwood. Richardson, N. 2009. The Queer Cinema of Derek Jarman. London: I.B Tauris. Stevens, K. 2006. New Queer Cinema: A Critical Reader, Film Criticism, vol. 31, no. 1, pp. 173-176,180. Wymer, R. 2006. Derek Jarman. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Read More