Current Forum: Session 7: Ideology, Gender and Sex	Read 7 times 	
Date: 26-Feb-2001 20:09:10	
Author: FRANK, KYLE G. <kgf4068@garnet.acns.fsu.edu>	
Subject: Male Gaze and Gender in S & C 	
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       I found Celluloid Closet to be a rather interesting film in that it traces the history of homosexuality in Hollywood from the earliest years to the present (i.e. when it was released), but that the chronology is idealistic at best and a lie at worst.  However, before I continue with this assertion, please let me verify what, exactly, am I trying to assert.  
       By calling into to question the “truthfulness” of the film, I do not intend to direct my comments to the chronology itself, but the manner in which it is presented.  Although the film takes on the form of a “scientific” (and therefore “true”) documentary, it is still grounded in conventional filmic discourse.  It seems fairly obvious to me that Celluloid Closet wishes to present the history of homosexuality in Hollywood as one of progress; that is, a move from negative to positive portrayals of “homosexual elements” on the screen.  The first part, and majority, of the film is focused on a critical analysis of the history of homosexuality in Hollywood, exposing what I term the comic, guilty, and sadistic portrayals of homosexuals.  This background then is transformed into a joyous celebration of the “freedom” earned through the sexual revolution of the 1990s, finished by a montage of scenes celebrating the fact that “finally, the silence is broken.”  These shots include characters who are smiling and are unified by “happy”, nondiegetic music.
       What concerns me most about this structure is that it terminates on a “happy” note, as if suggesting that we have arrived at a more “enlightened age.”  However, I would call this into question.  Even if there are positive images of homosexuality—or any type of “deviant” sexuality—on the theater screen, I am reticent to say that the majority of audience goers willingly accept them based on their negative and/or apprehensive reaction of the majority of my students last semester with regard to Cabaret.  Unfortunately, I do not have the evidence (I don’t have time to survey cinema audiences) to support this idea, but I am fairly confident that I know how the majority of us respond to Strawberry and Chocolate.  Not only will there be apprehension result from the narrative, which involves the friendship between a gay male and a straight male, but also from the film’s structure.  For example, I believe that most of them will be uncomfortable with the function of the looking within the filmic discourse.  It should be noted here that the film still grants the “power” of the filmic gaze to the males, which tends to support Mulvey’s ideas about the “male gaze”.  However, even though the film posits the act of looking to the male characters, it plays with various alternatives of that gaze.
       The film begins with an example of the “active/passive heterosexual division of labor” described by Mulvey (134).  We meet David Tolvaldo and Vivian in a cheap hotel.  Although not certainly at the top of the sex hierarchy outlined by Rubin in her article (142-3), the relationship between David and Vivian is much closer to “the line” than other possible relationships.  It is apparent in the narrative that David is the active initiator of the situation.  Furthermore, perhaps we could introduce the subject of voyeurism since in this scene David peeps through a hole in the door to look at the “couple” engaging in sex next door—although the shot is not so much of the couple as it is of the female.  Other shots, such as those accompanied by David’s voice over, demonstrate an overt male gaze (0:27:49).  In each of these shots a male gawks at a female.  Thus, in a sense the film is structured around the principles that Mulvey outlines.
       However, the film also deviates from these principles in order to present different gender “constructions” and view points.  Although the male gaze is “possessed” by male characters throughout the film, it is not always targeted towards a female object.  For example, there are many scenes involving Diego and David in which the male gaze is present, but directed at a male figure.  Several POV shots show Diego and then what he is viewing: David.  The most obvious of this is where David is sleeping on Diego’s couch.  Here, the POV shot presents a close up David’s head and then slowly pans down across his body, lingering in the pelvic region.  Though there is no sexual relationship, this shot carries homosexual overtones by subjecting the male, David, to Diego’s penetrating gaze.  I find this scene interesting for several reasons.  First, it breaks the barriers that Mulvey outlines by assigning the attribute of “to-be-looked-at-ness” to a “masculine” male—in that David is straight and acts “masculine”.  Second, this shot forces the spectator to identify with Diego.  No longer is the spectator allowed to hide behind the mask of the straight, middle-class, white male.  I suppose that it could be argued that we are to identify with the sleeping David.  This too creates an interesting dynamic and spectator identification.  Third, if we are to identify with Diego, this scene presents a paradoxical role for the spectator.  It seems that by focusing on David’s pelvis rather than his behind—or any other body part for that matter—the spectator is prescribed both active and passive roles simultaneously:  active, because he/she is the active viewer spying on David; passive, because focusing on the phallus implies reception.
       Thus, by looking at the camera views in Strawberry and Chocolate, we see a number of unconventional roles assigned both to the characters and to the audience.  I believe that the most important thing that we can ask ourselves about these different roles is how do we respond to them.  After identifying the response (which as I guessed above will most likely be apprehension or even disgust), we need to ask ourselves why we experience these reactions.  This will allow us to approach the questions that Weber poses, such as “Is seeing gender or race as an immutable fact of people’s lives either privileging them or relegating them to certain inferiority?” (156).