Panic over filial grief and separation dread undoubtedly played a discernible role in the strong response I had over the Farrelly brothers’ Stuck On You (which I rented the day my grandpa died, but obviously didn’t get around to watching until it was already a day overdue), because it surprised me even more than did Shallow Hal for its rewarding (and, admittedly, very portacted) patina of pathos. Each of the two, upon first viewings, found me laughing as much for the still risible humor, but also my growing awareness that I was laughing more so from my surprise at how deftly they thread profoundly lamentatious underpinnings into the very humor of the films (I’m thinking Make Way for Tomorrow, y’awl, only reversing the comedy-tragedy ratio). I mean, I know that the film was something of a underdog favorite amongst a subset of weekly alterna-critics, but I dunno… I guess there are still enough detractors that I was left with plausible doubt.
In addition (and you knew I’d comment on this), there was the cryto-homo subtext of the film. Granted, there are scenes that play off of the physicality of the two (attractive) males that are gratifying in how well Damon and Kinnear radiate extreme comfort with their connected bodies, exuding a lifetime of both inter- and intrapersonal compromise. But I’ve seen any number of films that celebrate male bonding as a physical entity. What really seemed valuable about the film’s premise is how it portrayed the intellectual/emotional/behavioral compromises shared between the two men; the marriage between the two, if you will (to my mind, probably more transgressive than the mere sight of three male hands reaching for the alarm clock in the film’s second shot, hence the obligatory jabs at “you fag!” jocularity). Any number of films and directors can capture the rush of physical attraction. No, in fact, they don’t have to. As I’m sure I’ve proven time and again, audiences are fully equipped to fan fumes of sexual tension whenever they see fit. Stuck On You accomplishes the far more rare feat of presenting a fully-rounded, complex, and totally compelling portrait of two men who need each other in a spiritual sense, and it does so by nearly forcing its audience to contemplate the ruinous effects of dissolving that spiritual bond. In that, it’s a unique argument on behalf of gay “marriage” that moves beyond the sexual stigma many have against gays (i.e. thoughts of gay sex make them uncomfortable).
Not quite the disaster I was anticipating, and neither the camp bonanza I was hoping for, this remake is probably that archtypal film that’s enhanced (for better and worse) by political currents, since it pretty much fails as either horror or comedy. (Men being forced to shop for groceries? Pffft!) Calling the aughts out for more of the same old anti-feminist regression is probably its own reward (I can always get behind a film whose villain is a woman actively working against gender equality), but, among the 800 or so missed opportunities and punkings-out, I was underwhelmed by the glossed-over, uninterested take on Gay Republicania. I mean, if you’re going to bother bringing the whole damned thing up-to-date in the first place, at least come up with some compelling alternative outcome for the repressed homo’s unfortunate boyfriend and their whole relationship, clearly built on a foundation of self-loathing and masochism. Make them both secretly want to become robots! Anything!