#These kinds of people know nothing about being queer or writing or cinema and pretend to and it drives me up a wall

[gothnitsa]

"Bioware's writing has gotten worse"

Ok, so I'm going to rant post about something and make it everyone elses' problem.

So, I recently came across a video that compared a scene of a queer character interacting with an unsupportive character in Dragon Age: Inquisition and a similar situation Dragon Age: the Veilguard. The video and the comments seem to imply that one scene is markedly worse than the other in a way that is immediately apparent. I want to push back against this.

Aside from the transphobia/anti-nb shit that is suggested by the video's framing and rampant in the comments, saying one scene is worse than the other is a mischaracterisation and discounts a lot of queer experience.

The scene in Inquisition is very dramatic: the language is flowery and elaborate, the performances are intense, it is a very compelling and dramatic scene. The framing for the scene and visual tone communicate a great deal of intensity and anger from Dorian: there are heavy shadows and dim lighting from torches that flicker, creating a scene that visually has a darkness and instability to it. The blocking of the scene puts a great deal of distance between the player character, Dorian, and his father, representing the distance in their relationship. It is very much a well crafted scene.

Now, the scene in Veilguard is much different: it opens with a very casual tone and atmosphere, the lighting of the scene is very warm and saturated. It feels like we are at a dinner table having a friendly conversation. Then, when the bomb gets dropped, we start to get close ups of each of the characters, interrupted by wide shots of the whole table. The shot of the table reminds us of the physical separation between these two characters, an echo of the rift that exists between them. We then get various close ups of each of the characters which get progressively closer, mirroring the intensity of the scene and the emotions.

Ok, so now we have the "Dialogue," the actual matter under discussion and point of comparison for these two scenes.

As mentioned above, Inquisition's style in this scene is deliberately intense and dramatic. It feels almost Shakespearean. We are given exposition on why Dorian's homosexuality is frowned upon, we get a tug of war between these two characters and the pain they both feel is palpable in the performances: the way Dorian's father speaks with such pain in his voice and Dorian's ferocity and anguish illustrate how this conflict isn't what either of them want, how the values and cultural circumstances have burned this bridge between them.

Now lets look at Veilguard. Right off the bat someone might feel critical of the sort of awkward start to this conversation. I won't lie, it was quite funny to hear someone go "here are some vegetables...so I'm non-binary." It's clunky, it's awkward, it's a strange way to introduce the topic but if you call this "unrealistic" or "bad writing," frankly I don't think you've seen many people come out.

Coming out is often awkward, painfull, and full of conflicting feelings. There's so much hesitation and anxiety baked into the very concept that there isn't anyway to bring it up that isn't awkward. This is actually a pretty realistic way to depict it. Furthermore, the actual conversation is also what I would call pretty realistic for an outing: the child tries to put it in as simple of terms as they possible can, lay it out in a way they think anyone can understand only for the parent to simply reject the explanation. What follows is a brief exchange that rapidly increases in intensity that is brought to life by some well done voice work (though, personally I think the music was a bit over bearing and did a little too much heavy lifting; I would have preferred the scene silent).

You can feel their frustration that is only further compounded by the mother's past behaviour and general presence. Even in this short video clip you can tell right off the bat that this mother child relationship isn't the most healthy, so this is just more fuel to the fire for them. The exchange is brief, harsh, and loaded with baggage and past bad blood between these two. You don't need to even know who these characters are to feel that. This is a much more realistic example of a character coming out to an unsupportive parent. It is laden with tension, awkwardness, unresolved anger, the burden of past expectations. There is, bluntly, a lot going on in this scene. Even just from this short clip you can get so much from these characters and their relationship while at the same time conveying a pretty impactfull and, honestly, real feeling queer experience.

So, no, one scene is not "worse" than the other. One scene has a deliberately awkward moment to convey the difficult and uncomfortable nature of coming out while at the same time communicating a great deal of character and struggle.

The other scene is an intense and dramatic confrontation that is meant to be more instep with the dark and intense tone that this scene holds within the narrative.

Both are well crafted scenes with deliberate directorial, cinematographic, character, and music choices that successfully convey what these moments are supposed to represent.

[kweerpop]

Week 8: MASC4FEM4WHTVR

Jason and Ade in The Pass

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The Pass is a 2016 film based on a play of the same name. The Pass depicts Jason and Ade, two English aspiring professional football (soccer) players. They are both vying for a spot on a “big-league” team. For those of us who are unfamiliar, British culture uses markedly more homophobic slurs than American, and football culture is riddled with toxic masculinity, amongst other prejudices (racism, misogyny, sexism). 

In the first part of the film, it’s 2006 and Jason and Ade are shown roughhousing in their hotel room in Romania. They watch a homemade sex tape one of their teammates made on a video recorder (shown above). Eventually, after some more homoerotic wrestling, Jason kisses Ade a few times, then leaves the bedroom and goes to shower. The picture fades out.

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The next part of the film takes place in 2011 in a more upscale hotel room. We quickly see that Jason is bringing a woman back to his hotel room, a woman with whom he is not in a relationship. Ade is not present. To make a long story short, the audience learns Jason is a well-known professional footballer and the woman is going to record them having sex, without Jason’s knowledge, to sell the tape to tabloids. He figures this out before they are even fully undressed, and an argument ensues. He states that he’s mad because people are making up rumors about him, and he doesn’t want any publicity because he and his wife have split, even though no one knows yet, he doesn’t want anything negative out so his soon-to-be ex could use it as leverage to keep the kids from him.

Right away, the woman calls him out. She says, “Oh my god, you’re gay. You’re gay, aren’t you?” Jason denies it, and says that he’s not gay and to “Look at [him]. [He’s] a footballer” (The Pass). She is surprised he cares and asks him if he knows what year it is, indicating it’s not a big deal. The woman also expresses her disbelief that there are no homosexuals in the sport: “Oh yeah, yeah, ‘cause it’s such a man’s game, isn’t it? All of them buff lads together and no one ever fancies a fuck” (The Pass)? She also says, addressing the rowdy public sex escapades the footballers are known to have, “that’s why you always double up on girls, innit?. . . even the straight lads can’t get a hard-on without another fella in the room” (The Pass). Feigning disgust, Jason goes to list the various endorsements and sponsorships he has: “I’m a fucking role model. Little kids have posters of me on their wall . . . Japanese people drink the same whiskey as me. That’s because of the kind of man I am . . . I ain’t gay. Gay ain’t even an option” (The Pass). This is reflective of the idea that most people, namely straight men, are pretending to be something they are not; they are performing a role, the role of masculine man. He cannot come out as a sports star; it is impossible. 

It’s interesting that the woman in the scene is the one who challenges the notions of traditional sexuality. She is the one who queers what it means to be a man, saying it doesn’t matter that he’s gay; he can still be a famous footballer as he is now.

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The third part of the movie, now in an even more upscale hotel room (of Jason’s), takes place in 2016. In this scene, Ade shows up at a shirtless Jason’s room, wherein he’s working out, and they catch up. Jason is a very famous footballer, and Ade is now a successful, but modest, plumber. Jason starts training Ade (working out), and as Ade’s blood starts pumping the shirt comes off. They are sipping whiskey, tonic, etc. while working out (very healthy, yes). Jason then brings up the night in Romania but only refers to it as a “mad night.” Mad in this sense being “crazy” or “wild.” Ade then reveals he has come out and is in a relationship with a man. Jason turns hostile and is apparently jealous, though it appears he doesn’t realize this. The tension in the air is palpable once Ade reveals he’s in a relationship. Jason quickly brings the conversation back to Romania. He is apparently trying to convince himself that what happened wasn’t indicative that his sexuality was “abnormal.” He wants to “mark the occasion” of that night (since it is now 10 years later). The hostility subsides and the shirtless, drunk men start partying together (by attempting to  remove the television from the wall). Fast forward and the men are fighting again; this time Jason is pissed that Ade isn’t playing football anymore (He is clearly just mad because Ade is out and happy and Jason isn’t). A bellboy comes up to drop off a screwdriver that was requested by the men (to remove the TV), some more shady, erotic stuff goes down (not sex), and the bellboy leaves the room soaking wet in his underwear. Jason tells Ade he never called him the last ten years because he didn’t want to be “infected by [Ade’s] failure.” Basically, the entire encounter is hostile, dark, and repressed; this is a great moment to realize this is reflective of the inner world of Jason. Ade leaves. 

Jason starts crying and gets into the shower, just like he did when what could’ve been wasn’t realized ten years prior. The camera zooms into Jason’s face, in the shower, and zooms out and we see Ade in the Romanian hotel room ten years prior. This is now after the fadeout we saw when the first part of the film ended. Ade goes into the bathroom and gets into the shower with Jason. They start kissing (it’s very passionate and romantic). Cut to post-coital snuggling in the bed. This part of the film is full of warmth, love, affection, happiness so directly contrasting the rest of the film. 

images taken by me of the film (from Netflix)

Viewers are shown two men who at first appear traditionally heterosexual. The audience is queered when it is apparent there is a sexual chemistry between the two men. That is soon challenged, though, when Jason is shown about to have sex with a woman (therein lying the quintessential ambiguity of queer cinema). We then learn that Jason is married to a woman, and it is not the woman in the scene. The audience’s fantasy that Jason and Ade would be together is squashed, at least for now. The men are losing to sexual identity politics, because their two intersecting personalities (footballer and gay man) are incompatible. Actually, they probably do not even consider themselves gay, at least during the first part. Again, challenging the notion of masculinity. 

Ade, as an out man, has found happiness in life being out and open. Jason has found fleeting pleasure by pursuing his career goals. For both men, self and career aren’t compatible. The two of them choose either or. What I found very interesting, though, was a reddit post by user overactive-bladder: user writes, “i had my fair share of resentment towards people who tossed me aside like jason did with ade . . . maybe they were ruthless to me because they were busy fighting their own demons. pursuing their own dreams they thought was more important. maybe it really didn't have to do with me” ("The Pass [2016] - This Movie Broke Me : Truefilm"). This post gives a perspective not normally publicized: the compassionate gay man who can empathize with a closeted man struggling to accept his sexuality. There isn’t the normal judgment and hostility that is present in so many conversations revolving around closeted people.

A line from “’The Invention of a People’: Velvet Goldmine and the Unburying of Queer Desire,” a piece of work from Nick Davis, states: “This non-diegetic, fleeting image of homosexual pleasure, mined into existence despite a heavy armada of medical, political and memorial forces that work to oppose it. . . this desiring-image does not romanticise the prospect of gay ‘liberation’ or obviate the continued enormity of those forces that would constrict or even annihilate minority discourses and desires” (98). This perfectly captures the essence of The Pass, in my opinion, because, until the last two minutes of the film, the audience thinks that the relationship never happened. It was always about-to happen, but never could, because of the men’s environments. In reality, this is true, even though they did consulate their relationship. These queer men express themselves in very different ways. One has immense power (Jason), but acting on his sexual power does nothing for him since he is living a lie. His economic power, what one would think would solve his problems, does nothing. The other (Ade), has virtually no power, but has found a genuine life. We are then left wondering “what if?” We’re left wanting more. We’re left ambivalent. We’re left without a real conclusion. V NQC.

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