Todd Craig
My husband wants me to take him to go see Les Miserables.
Sure, the movie has earned great reviews and
has garnered Oscar buzz. Yes, I know that
it’s the first blockbuster Hollywood musical since The Sound of Music. And I’m
well aware that my Twitter feed has been clogged with twitterpated gay friends
all chirping about how fabulous it is.
Am I a Bad Gay for not wanting to see it?
Am I a Bad Gay for thinking that Les Miserables might be the most appropriately titled movie ever?
True Story #1: My
Uncle Jim, the family wit in a family full of sharp ones, after being dragged by my Aunt Becky to see the Meryl Streep classic Out of Africa, declared that he was “… glad to
get out of Africa.”
Anyway, here’s my deal.
I’m a nerdy gay. I grew up on a healthy dose of Spiderman comic books
and Star Trek reruns. I considered last summer’s Avengers movie to be high entertainment. Yes, I know that makes me a bit dorky, and
yes, I know that The Big Bang Theory hits
a little close to home sometimes. As a
nerdy gay, I’m the one wearing a collared shirt at the gay bar filled with boys
wearing low-cut, V-necks.
True Story #2: One of
the last times I was at a gay bar, I got separated from my husband who was
there with his hag. I was approached by
a gay guy, who sauntered up and asked what a straight boy like me was doing in
a gay bar. I replied, somewhat
amused and somewhat coy, that perhaps there was a chance that I was indeed
gay. His response? “Oh honey, not possible in that shirt.”
All of which, on top of my distaste of movie musicals, might
lend you to believe that I’m some sort of Bad Gay.
I guess that I just don’t see much appeal when it comes to
these song-and-dance reviews. Don’t get
me wrong, I love a good drama. I also
love music. But, like a picky six-year
old eater, I just don’t like it when my peas get all mixed up with my
carrots. When you mix them all up, the
meal’s just not palatable any more.
I’m beginning to wonder if my gay gene is missing the
love-of-musicals DNA molecule. While the
rest of the gay world sees Hugh Jackman, Broadway star, I see Wolverine, mutant
bad-ass who isn’t doing anything stabby. Yawn.
My husband and I have greatly varying tastes when it comes
to movies. In the past, I’ve indulged
his every gay desire with such painfully unwatchable movies as Sex and the City 2.
Side Note:
Why does the usually charming Sarah Jessica Parker make such shitty
movies? My husband loves her, imagines
himself to be Carrie Bradshaw at least six times a day, gets all ramped up for
her latest flick, and then is constantly left disappointed and slightly
defensive of his movie star friend. If Les Miserables has anything going for
it, it might be that SJP isn’t in it.
Side Note #2: Another appropriately titled movie: Failure
to Launch. Seriously, don’t put the
word failure as the first word of the
title of a Sarah Jessica Parker movie.
The same goes for words like doomed,
awful, and bleh.
Seriously, if I end up going - and we all know that I will
in the name of being the world’s best husband - I will have definitely have to
fake my gay orgasm after watching Wolverine sing for two and half hours. I’ll try not to look at my watch. I’ll "ooo" and "ahh". I’ll pretend it was awesome. I’ll say nice things afterwards.
However, I won’t really mean any of it.
Of course, maybe I’ll be surprised. Maybe, just maybe, my long-buried gay
chanteuse of a conscience will stand up in a feather boa and deliver a
soul-shaking, heart-wrenching lyric that will put me and those around me in a song-and-dance
finale that brings down the house while my newly-liberated gay self soars to unheard
of heights.