Movie Review: The Boys in the Band

We were too young and way too closeted to see it when it first came out in 1970, but last night the roommate and I watched this tour-de-force story about "seven tired screaming fairy queens and one anxious queer" and sat up talking about it till nearly 3 a.m. It's funny, outrageous, thought-provoking, and intensely fascinating: the first all-gay, openly gay American movie ever.

Based on Mart Crowley's 1968 play of the same name, this shows what big-city gay life was like on the eve of Stonewall: catty, campy, bawdy, bitchy, flippant, and flamboyant. So what's changed? It's amazing to see how all the same types of people are still very much with us - and you'll be mentally intrigued comparing them to your friends. And yourself.

From a review by Gary Morris at Bright Lights Film Journal:

This scathing but ultimately sympathetic group portrait of a gay birthday party that virtually self-destructs before the terrified eyes of mainstream audiences was the first Hollywood feature to take a close-up look at queer culture. In spite of a plethora of topical or dated references — "midnight cowboys," marihuana hidden in Band-Aid boxes, Maria Montez — the film is brilliantly acted and has an emotional clarity and power that hasn't dimmed over the years.

Much of what makes The Boys in the Band so enjoyable today is Mart Crowley's superbly dishy dialogue, which in sheer volume and vitriol preempts all its predecessors, gay and straight. Even classics like All About Eve, touted for its hothouse script, pales beside the boys' barrage of verbal pyrotechnics. Words are both the weapons and the armor in their endless skirmishes, and many of these words have found a permanent place in the culture. Surely not a day goes by without some queen, somewhere, quoting Emory's "Who do you have to fuck to get a drink around here?" or Harold's acid bon mot, "Michael has countercharm." And even straight audiences no doubt filed away for later use comments like Michael's indisputable "One thing you can say for masturbation; you certainly don't have to look your best." . . .

The Boys in the Band was not as big a success commercially as some may think, given its secure place in the firmament of instantly recognizable modern films. Some of its business may have been preempted by queer critics, who were among the harshest. (Friedkin would learn a lesson from this; Cruising begins with a groveling disclaimer that says the film is "not meant to be representative of the whole" gay community.) The late Vito Russo, author of The Celluloid Closet, no doubt spoke for many in being conflicted about it, calling it both "not positive" and "fair" in the same sentence. But ultimately he condemns it as a kind of Green Pastures for queers and a lamentable exercise in self-loathing. This narrow interpretation misses the sheer magnetism, humor, and power of these super-queens. Missing too from most discussions of the film is the fact that, as tied to its time and its subculture as it is, Friedkin pushes the drama onto a wider canvas of human frailty and limitations and lost dreams. "I never understood any of it" is Michael's bitter parting comment, pointing to larger questions that far outweigh the nagging little ones of what sweater to wear and how much to pay the hustler.

It's not politcally correct, but it is historically correct; you have to take books and films from earlier times on their own ground, in context of their own time: a window into the past, a revelation of how people really talked, thought, and behaved.

But overall, people behaved pretty much as they still do - human nature doesn't change. If you haven't seen it, check it out sometime, you'll get a kick out of the funny parts and find some other parts very thought-provoking. The roommate said it reminded him of Tennessee Williams/Truman Capote.

There's also some great interviews and commentary included on the DVD, with Mart Crowley, William Friedkin, Laurence Luckinbill, Peter White, and Tony Kushner. Here's a clip of the opening, with Harper's Bizarre singing the Cole Porter classic "Anything Goes."