Marty (1955)
I remember this movie as the touching tale of a lonely, ordinary guy — the brutally realistic story of a man who is — well Marty himself says it — “just a fat ugly man!” One of the problems is that it is unlikely that a ‘fat ugly man’ would say that — but even more importantly for Paddy Chayefsky (the writer )— Marty would be a more interesting character if he didn’t. Chayefsky’s characters have a habit of describing themselves accurately directly to other people. Faye Dunaway (in Network) says “I apparently have a masculine temperament. I arouse quickly, consummate prematurely.” All this is unlikely, but the problem isn’t so much Chayefsky’s faults as a writer -- or even the fact that Marty is so proud of its class condescension — these are poor Italian people after all and we can’t help congratulating ourselves that we are open-minded enough to be watching a movie about them. I want to be on side; especially when everyone tells Marty to dump Betsy Blair because she’s too old and skinny — but nevertheless Marty asks her out on a second date because it means (unlike his superficial male pals) he‘ll always have a date for New Years. Yay Marty! — love who you wanna love, screw who you wanna screw. But I’ve been in lock down for four months, and I finally get to Montreal, and suddenly there are men everywhere, men who are — well, just the same as before — because men don’t change, they want it all the time and they want it now. But in Ontario I have been living in an alternate universe where suddenly the boys on GRINDr are posting signs that say “Stay Home, Stay Safe” -- instead of dic pics. I know that’s supposed to be admirable. But that’s the only reason they do it, to be admirable (or else they’ve been looking for an excuse to stop having sex for a long time and this is it). Marty’s male friends at the end of the movie are trying to get him to have fun: “Lets go down to 72nd street. We’ll walk around, we'll end up with something.” And -- “There’s a burlesque at Union City.” This is my life: boy strippers and yes, knowing that at the end of the night I’ll end up with ‘something.’ But Marty says “Burlesque, Louie’s Paradise — miserable and lonely and stupid - I gotta something good here, what am I doing here?” And he runs off to Betsy Blair. My first question is, why the ‘Sophie’s Choice’? Why does it have to be Betsy Blair or the Burlesque Palace? Why can’t she go with him? (She might learn something from -- or hook up with -- a fabulous sex trade worker!). Well I’m tired of this. I disagree with Peter Knegt. I read the stupidest article by him on the CBC website yesterday. I hardly know this guy at all. When I met him he looked like he was about 12 (but I’m ancient). This was about 15 years ago, and he was putting together some sort of gay guide to Toronto, and called me up and asked me to write something for it, as I was ‘pretty knowledgeable' about the Toronto gay scene. So I did. I didn’t hear much about him after that until he wrote a huge article about Buddies 40th anniversary (’40 Years 40 Queers’). Someone asked me if I wanted to be interviewed for the article— as one of the 40 people who had 'some association’ with Buddies. And I, prima donna that I am, said: ‘I founded this friggin’ theatre with my bare hands 40 years ago, and I’m not going to be interviewed along with 39 other people, could I have my own special interview please?” (I know, hate me, I deserve it). Anyway Peter Knegt subsequently published this damn article about Buddies and did not interview me. (I’m not sure if that was his decision; but I helped him out long ago, the least he could have done is reach out to me!) And then yesterday I had to read this smelly-pile-of-bilge-crap called ‘Gay culture has grown toxic with unchecked privilege. It's time for us to reset.’ Knegt ignores many issues that face gay men, including class, AIDS criminalisation, and homophobia, saying gay men are too privileged. Okay, can I tell you why Peter Knegt wrote this? Why any gay man goes around these days saying: “I’m so sorry I’m so privileged?” Why are gay men on the front lines on Facebook shaming people for not wearing masks? It’s a career move. Listen honestly, I’m not trying to demonise Peter Knegt. It’s not his fault — he’s a victim of circumstance -- caught in a paradigm. He’s got to have a career like anybody else, and the best way to get one these days — if you’re gay — is to apologise for being gay, deny there is a ‘gay sensibility’ and demolish gay culture (i.e. camp) -- and people like me who helped create it. Yes I am promiscuous, Yes, I love sleaze, yes I like to imagine my life is a film noir movie — and yes — a different man every night — bring ‘em on! I’ve lived this way for 67 years and I don’t expect to stop until I have to — (which I’m sure will happen soon). But what I’m saying is I think you can have that and still have love too, because if you like sex and/or promiscuity you are not a bad person-- and people will still love you. Years ago, a beautiful young man (the lover of my best friend at the time) cursed me. He hated me (truth be told he kind of hated everybody) so when I was whining about not having a lover he turned to me and said: “you’ll never have a lover because you’re a slut.” (His curse did not come true, and he’s the one who ended up alone, not me.) I go to a public pool occasionally in Montreal and there’s a young woman there who I am platonically in love with. She is some kind of demented Marilyn Monroe. She has humungous breasts and long straight platinum blonde dyed hair. She wears sunglasses and hat, and carries a little clear plastic purse. She kind of toddles across the pool deck, causing much rolling of eyes among the fashionable young hipsters. Today, on top of her red bikini top and thong, she wore a translucent-black-lace-nighty-sort-of-thing. She appears to be stoned. I love her, but I don’t know her story — so I'm making it up. To me she seems a tragic slut — because someone has cursed her too, and told her that she will never in this lifetime find true love. Yes you will, honey — I guarantee it! I am living breathing proof that sluts can be happy, and that only the very best men love them. But I’m worried about Peter Knegt. In his his latest article, he says he's looking to ‘find the love of his life.’ I gotta tell you, Peter, for your own good, if you don’t start getting slutty fast, it might just not ever happen.
