Here’s a piece I wrote* recently on what constitutes queer cinema for a promo mag for local Melbourne arthouse haven, Cinema Nova. I feel like I have more to say on the matter however so I will rant here for a bit. Don’t go to see queer films, go to see films. Period. Don’t go see Eastern Boys or Love Is Strange expecting films about gays; go watch them expecting stories about people. Just people. Don’t avoid Mommy because queer cinema is too far out of your comfort zone because there is nothing even remotely gay about it. You know what Mommy has in common with gay cinema? That there are people on a human level thinking and feeling and going about their lives. There is far less gayness in Mommy than there is in any of the Fast & Furious films but people will still flock to those even if Vin Diesel was fucking the corpse of Paul Walker on the bonnet of a speeding 18 wheeler.
Everyone’s best mate Jennifer Lawrence is back in the not much hyped sequel to The Hunger Games, which I am sure no one knows about because the internet never mentions her. She’s back home now having survived the last Games and has heaps of money and her family is safe, but is still mopey and has nightmares about killing people. Which is fair, I guess. She likes a Hemsworth but poor baker boy Peeta still pines after her but when she gets hot and sweaty she can’t decide whose arrow she wants in her quiver, but thankfully the filmmakers realised the story is less about teenage moistness and more talkin’ bout a revolution. Creepy president Donald Sutherland hates that the poor people might ruin his riveting life of champagne and white rose gardens so he goes about trying to quash Jen’s firebird soul, because the other poor people are treating her like a war messiah because SHE IS THE MOCKINGJAY and will lead them to an uprising because frankly totalitarianism is really unbecoming.
The latest Superman film to come along, Man of Steel, starts with a bang. A few of them actually – it’s rather impressive. Set on Krypton, the planet is crumbling and people are scrambling around grasping for salvation. There are plasma guns and flying monsters and it’s all very sci-fi and rather great. Then it cuts to the real world, and I found my attention wavering. We just had this great planet, now we’re back to Earth? Isn’t this Star Trek? Where have all the monsters gone? I found the credibility of this dumb planet fade further as we see Clark Kent (the handsome, chiselled, broody Henry Cavill) immerse himself in an exploding inferno, and the stupid flames couldn’t even burn his pants off. But really, if that was how distracted from the actual story I was then, I couldn’t see this latest from Zack Snyder taking me off on too hard a ride.
Elizabeth Flux
H D Thompson
Mike Stuchbery
Adam vanLangenberg
SUBTERRANEAN DEATH CULT 