Gentleman’s Agreement (1947)
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if it turned out to be everybody’s century? When people all over the world, free people, found a way to live together? I’d like to be around to see that.” That idealism is still driving politics today. One can't disagree with this well-meaning film about anti-semitism -- so controversial in 1947 — and yet people are still desecrating Jewish graveyards, and Trump is still dog-whistling Jewish international conspiracy theories. Dorothy Maguire plays Gregory Peck’s fiancee (for one thrilling moment, Gregory Peck takes a shower, but all you get to see is his head) and Maguire comes to understand that anti-semites are not just those who do physical violence, but those who don’t speak up when an anti-Jewish joke is told. Speaking of which, I’ve been hanging out with straight men a lot lately because, frankly, I don’t have much choice. (Not that I have anything against straight men, but that's just not my culture.) Well today, I was hangin’ with a coupla righteous dudes (is that how you say it?) and I realized that I apologized for being gay. We were talking about the hypocrisy of COVID-19, and the myth of social distancing. What I mean (and this was their idea, not mine, these guys are straight, but also old ex-punks, counter-culture junkies) is all the hypocritical talk about social distancing. Because the talk is very specific. ‘You must, first of all, wear a mask, then stay six feet apart — no, sorry, we’ve decided today — make that 18 feet apart — because spit projectiles can actually travel 18 feet. So you should try to stay as far away from other people as possible. Here’s a chart. No here’s a video — with infra-red lighting that illuminates the particles that our being expelled from a person’s mouth when they speak. Wow, isn’t that scary? Oh — also, we know now that people who talk loudly deliver more germs at a faster rate than people who talk softly so…’ It just goes on and on. (After the ‘loud talker’ edict I knew I was done for, because I, in case you haven’t guessed, am A VERY LOUD PERSON.) So the details are endless, but when you finally do get off your ass and go somewhere, you find that no one -- including the official hired staff, security guards, proprietors, those in charge -- are actually following any rules whatsoever. Uber issued a proclamation: all passengers must wear masks. I keep getting in Ubers and asking them if I have to wear a mask. They shrug — 'Say wha…?’ I was on the phone the other day with Canada Post after being told by my local post office that they do not forward mail during COVID-19, only to find out that they do. And then that they don’t. The only way I managed to get some real information, was when I resorted to a tried and true technique, sobbing, miserably. Yes, I cried about a mythical dying father (I do that when I need something done — all that acting training has to be good for something!) — and when I fake cried I must have been excellent because I finally got a nice lady on the phone -- instead of the man who said ‘please don’t raise your voice to me sir.’ Anyway, it’s all just lies because nobody wants to get sued. And I was telling the straight guys that all this hypocrisy is no news to me. Do you know how many times I’ve engaged in the act of fellatio right beside, behind, or in front of a sign -- in a bar, or video store -- that says ‘no sexual activity allowed’? I have nothing to say about Gentleman’s Agreement other than — it is good in the usual earnest, Elia Kazan, way. And Gregory Peck plays a man even more perfect than Atticus Finch. But it’s just a lecture on anti-semitism — and I don’t mean to sound jaded — but yawn— I get it, and a speech or pamphlet might do it better. Oh yes, there’s Celeste Holm (how have I not mentioned her in a blog)? She is highly underrated, and delivers smart witty dialogue with a stupendous alacrity, making my mouth water. In Gentleman’s Agreement she gets to lust after Gregory Peck in pyjamas — every woman’s dream (and mine too) and then she gets to be rejected by Peck and cry -- all of which she does with pitch perfect timing and daunting charm. The point of Gentleman’s Agreement is that we must stand up to prejudice each and every hour of each and every day. Well, hello, that’s what I’ve been doing forever— standing up against homophobia has been my career, my work, my personal life, my creative life, my pleasure and my pain for the last nearly 40 years, and I’m not going to say I didn’t get any credit for it, cuz I did (and I’m not a whiner). But here we are, today. And gay men are generally considered to be privileged, contemptible, rich, sarcastic, mean, too-tanned, snobs — who don’t deserve to be at the top of the food chain they now unjustly dominate. So why did I find it necessary to censor myself while hanging out with a bunch of straight male acquaintances? Why — when I talked about signs forbidding sex in bars, did I find it necessary to say “Sorry this is sort of gross, but….” Why? Well screw it. I’m not going to bow to homophobia ever, even though everybody assumes it’s over. Come on. They all know what we do. And how often we do it. And how much pleasure it gives us. And it's pleasure straight men are just not having. (And never will have.) After all, spending hours, days, weeks, trying to persuade straight women who feel oppressed by you to have a little sex is a very time consuming, joyless endeavour. I apologise for apologising about something that means more to me than my own life — bein’ a dirty ol’ friggin’ faggot.
