\u00a0<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n
Crying Holy<\/b><\/em><\/p>\n I had to talk my way into the preview of Wayne Corbitt\u2019s new play,\u00a0Crying Holy<\/em>.\u00a0 The publicity director for Theatre Rhinoceros has a policy against letting press into previews and she didn\u2019t know\u00a0Spectator<\/em>\u00a0from a high school newspaper or her worst image of a sleazy sex rag.\u00a0 It was Thursday afternoon and if I was going to see the play and still have time to write about it for this column I had to see it that night.\u00a0 Well, she said, if I FAXed her some previous columns she would consider it.\u00a0 “Frankly,” she told me — professional, polite, and politic — “Spectator<\/em>\u00a0isn\u2019t a very significant venue for us.”\u00a0 Then she added, with just a hint\u00a0 of arch in her voice, “This play isn\u2019t really about sex anyway,” and the light bulb went on for me:\u00a0 The old sex\/dirt thing.\u00a0 We\u2019re doing Art here, not sex.\u00a0 Not the first time I\u2019ve run up against\u00a0that<\/em>, god knows, but I was surprised.\u00a0 I mean this was Theatre Rhino, after all.<\/p>\n It\u2019s ironic because\u00a0Crying Holy<\/em>\u00a0most certainly is about sex, though that\u2019s certainly not all it\u2019s about.\u00a0 (I managed to get to see the show after all, with help from Wayne and Theatre Rhino\u2019s cooperative director.)\u00a0 It\u2019s about the funny way people have of getting all fluttery in the stomach whenever sex or something sex-related comes up, especially when it\u2019s close to home.\u00a0 That omigosh-this-is-too-embarrassing-for-words-let\u2019s-change-the-subject knee-jerk, the pained look on the face, the how could you, or the sudden deadening, deafening silence.\u00a0 Aren\u2019t these, after all, the ways we learn at those very tender ages that sex is something strange, private, secret, and… well… dangerous — something subject to rules that are entirely different from the rules that govern all other forms of social, personal, and emotional interaction.<\/p>\n On the surface,\u00a0Crying Holy<\/em>\u00a0is about a 40-year-old gay black man with AIDS who visits his family and tries to get them to acknowledge him and to deal with the reality of his sexuality and, even more significantly, the reality of his illness.\u00a0 But the impact and relevance of Corbitt\u2019s electric, subtle, and moving play go far beyond the specifics of being gay, black, or HIV-positive.\u00a0 Corbitt eloquently lays bare both the overt and the covert dynamics of the classic family sexual battle:\u00a0 the struggle between the family that wants to pretend sex doesn\u2019t exist outside the narrowest of respectable channels, and whoever it is in the family whose sexuality refuses to be confined in that way.<\/p>\n In\u00a0Crying Holy<\/em>\u00a0the wavemaker is Waters Hardy, son of a devout woman preacher, a mother who can only express her fear and concern for her wayward son by turning the entire matter of his sexuality over to Jesus.\u00a0 While she fervently prays for her son\u2019s repentance, she adamantly refuses to acknowledge, either to him or to herself, the reality of who he is and what he has to deal with, day\u00a0 by day.\u00a0 Sister, foster sister, and friend all collaborate in the family stew by most good-naturedly pretending that there is nothing seriously difficult about Waters, ignoring as best they can the overt manifestations of his AIDS in their determination to keep everything light and cheerful.<\/p>\n These maddening dynamics of family denial, the core of Corbitt\u2019s play, are brought to life with stunning force by director Edris Cooper and the cast of five.\u00a0 They will strike familiar chords in anyone who has ever tried to gain family recognition for controversial sexuality — whether that be as sons, daughters, sisters, brothers, mothers or fathers; as gays, lesbians, bisexuals, s\/m\u2019ers, or vanilla heterosexual sluts; as people who are sexual when they are too young or too old, too married or too unmarried (or who are sexual\u00a0with<\/em>\u00a0people who are too young, too old, too married, too black, too white, too Jewish, too un-Jewish, too Catholic, too un-Catholic, too… well, you know).<\/p>\n The family is, ultimately, the most conservative of social institutions.\u00a0 It is through the family that societal norms and taboos are enforced and passed on to the next generation.\u00a0 Yet the family also can (or could) be a fundamental, primary source of personal support and validation.\u00a0 Put these two together and it\u2019s not hard to understand why family conflict gets so explosive when someone in the family goes embraces what is considered abnormal, particularly if they do so with great enthusiasm and lack of apology.<\/p>\n Nowhere is this more powerful than when it is sexual norms that are being shattered.\u00a0 To begin with, sex is one of the most explosive energies to be subjected to the regulation of social norms.\u00a0 In addition, within the family we habitually closet virtually\u00a0all<\/em>\u00a0sexual dynamics whatsoever.\u00a0 Think of the family as a sexual entity?\u00a0 Don\u2019t be perverted!\u00a0 Children as sexual beings?\u00a0 No way!\u00a0 Sexual attractions between parents and children, or between siblings?\u00a0 Not in\u00a0our<\/em>\u00a0family!\u00a0 Discussion in front of the kids of what mom and dad like in bed, or of how the one felt when the other had an affair?\u00a0 Inappropriate!<\/p>\n Most of us are less than straightforward in how we present ourselves sexually to the outer world.\u00a0 We are even less honest about our sexual selves within our families, even when we can hardly sleep at night for the racket of all the bones rattling in the closets.\u00a0 It\u2019s not only gays, lesbians, and bisexuals who have to deal with coming out, with learning to proclaim and celebrate the full reality of who we are sexually, rather than hiding ourselves away.\u00a0 Unconventional heterosexuals (and who is not unconventional, one way or another?) often keep their real sexual feelings and practices as hidden as gays, and suffer the same kinds of personal truncation and disempowerment that is well known to those more used to identifying as sexual outlaws.<\/p>\n The ultimate test for anyone about standing behind who we are sexually, is usually the family.\u00a0 How many of us feel free to talk honestly about our sexual feelings and desires with our parents?\u00a0 With our children?\u00a0 With our brothers and sisters?\u00a0 How many of us speak to our family members about who we are sexually in any but the most perfunctory ways?\u00a0 How many of us dare demand to be seen and acknowledged by our families for this part of who we are?\u00a0 It is so much easier to shine everyone on, pretend to be more or less like everyone else, and avoid the heat.\u00a0 The thing about gays, lesbians, and (as Corbitt emphasizes) especially people with AIDS, is that they cannot hide their transgressive sexuality as easily as other sexual rule-breakers.\u00a0 The more pervasive a role sex plays in our lives, the more difficult and damaging it becomes to try and straddle the gulf between who we really are and who we conveniently may pretend to be.<\/p>\n I believe that in our heart of hearts we are, almost all of us, at least sexual outlaws, at most what the self-righteous Good People would call perverts.\u00a0 Divided inside between who we are and who we think we\u2019re supposed to be, we fight an ongoing, usually lifelong, war with our erotic natures.\u00a0 In many ways it kills the best, the most powerful, the most imaginative aspects of our erotic existences.\u00a0 It almost always keeps us from finding out about the full depth and range of our sexual feelings and possibilities.<\/p>\n That\u2019s why when Waters Hardy follows his mother around and around the house, trying to force her to see and care about the reality of who he is, he speaks not only for black queers with AIDS but for all sexual outsiders.\u00a0 And that\u2019s why I, a predominantly heterosexual white man, left Theatre Rhinoceros so opened, so moved, so drained, and so deeply appreciative of both Corbitt and the impassioned cast and crew of\u00a0Crying Holy<\/em>.\u00a0 To have the truth, the sexual truth, my sexual truth, perhaps your sexual truth, presented so clearly, so astutely, and so well, is both a treat and a healing.<\/p>\n [Crying Holy plays at Theatre Rhinoceros through February 20th.\u00a0 Call (415) 552-4100 for tickets and information.]<\/p>\n * * * * *<\/p>\n Body of Evidence<\/b><\/em><\/p>\n I went to see\u00a0Body of Evidence<\/em>, Madonna\u2019s latest film, on its opening night and was taken with it enough to go back to see it again the next.\u00a0 I loved it, rather uncritically, the first time, only to feel rather completely (and somewhat embarrassingly) disenchanted when I saw it again.\u00a0 It was like going out on a first date with someone exotic and enchanting, and then later on, when you get know them better, replaying your initial take on them and seeing everything about them in a different light.\u00a0 You end up seeing through both them and yourself, but still holding on to those warm first impressions because they were so wonderful, right or wrong.\u00a0 Who was it who talked about being in love with being in love?<\/p>\n On first viewing, I was just pleased as punch to see some serious dominance\/bondage, pain\/pleasure sex on the screen.\u00a0 Hollywood lighting and all, but way beyond the old media stereotyping, and with some wonderful lines and sly smiles to boot.\u00a0 I also found myself identifying strongly with Madonna\u2019s character:\u00a0 an unapologetic sexual kink who finds herself on trial as much for her sexuality as for the murder she is accused of committing.<\/p>\n There\u2019s a hot scene in which Madonna seduces and teases Willem Dafoe, ties him up with his own belt, and drips hot wax on his chest, his belly, and his cock.\u00a0 The emotional dominance game between the two of them is fierce and it rings true.\u00a0 I was fairly twitching in my seat, identifying with both Madonna and Dafoe.\u00a0 It\u2019s a perfect role for Madonna.\u00a0 She gets to be gamey, aloof, perceptive, and the sly temptress — a top utterly intoxicated with power and control.<\/p>\n Dafoe realistically portrays the innocent initiate, mesmerized by the process through which he discovers things about himself he has never imagined.\u00a0 To be led into the heart of desire by someone who sees you better than you see yourself, whose pleasure derives from getting you to acknowledge what pleases you, the magician who pulls erotic coin after coin from behind your ear with a sleight of her hand or her teeth — what could be more delightful except, perhaps, being the magician?\u00a0 In\u00a0Body of Evidence<\/em>, Dafoe is utterly delighted indeed.\u00a0 (Is this really what was happening between the two of them when they cut the scene?\u00a0 Madonna has described her attitude during the shooting as “scientific… not sexy at all,” while Dafoe says he was turned on despite himself.)\u00a0 Anyway, it got me, no two ways about it.<\/p>\n Likewise the scene in which Madonna unzips Dafoe\u2019s pants and plays with his cock in the back of a crowded elevator, grinning with delight as Dafoe stares straight ahead, deadpan.\u00a0 When they emerge into a deserted parking garage, she stands on the hood of her car, raises her skirt, then fucks him on the car, pressing his back into the shards of a shattered light bulb while he gasps with both pleasure and pain.\u00a0 Stylized and glamorized to be sure (much like the sex scenes in Adrian Lyne\u2019s\u00a09-1\/2 Weeks<\/em>), but definitely steamy.\u00a0 The audience was stirring and murmuring and laughing.\u00a0 Whether they were laughing with the scene or at the scene, I couldn\u2019t tell.<\/p>\n The film\u2019s two principal contexts — the courtroom drama and the developing relationship between Madonna and Dafoe — both provide opportunities for serious (if first-level) explanation of some of the basics of s\/m play.\u00a0 We are told about the difference between pain for pleasure and abuse; about the executive who compensates for being in control of every aspect of his regular life by turning himself over to a dominant mistress; about the significance of consensuality.\u00a0 As Madonna, sexual deviate, defends herself without batting an eye while being cross-examined by District Attorney Joe Mantegna, she gets to pop holes in one stereotypical misconception about s\/m after another.\u00a0 She speaks of s\/m completely matter-of-factly, just another way for two loving people to express their affection for one another\/why all the fuss?\u00a0 It\u2019s a setup that offers classic catharsis for any sexual outlaw.<\/p>\n Here it is, I thought to myself, s\/m on the screen, attacked and defended, the pervert trading line for line with the Man and generally coming off smarter, wiser, more subtle, more mature.\u00a0 There\u2019s even a delightful subtext in the no-nonsense black woman judge who repeatedly tops both the goodboy male attorneys, delivering stiletto lines with icy tones and arched eyebrows whenever they try to get away with this or that.<\/p>\n The theatre audience — almost entirely people in their 20s and early 30s, maybe five times as many women as men — ate it up, I think.\u00a0 They were laughing with each triumph of Madonna\u2019s razor repartee, oohing and ahing during the sex scenes, falling silent as the scenes got more intense.\u00a0 You could practically hear everyone taking notes.\u00a0 All this at a UA theatre on an ordinary Friday night in America.\u00a0\u00a0I<\/em>\u00a0was eating\u00a0that<\/em>\u00a0up as much as anything.<\/p>\n The reviewers are going to take this film apart the way they always take anything related to Madonna apart, and in this case they won\u2019t be without justification.\u00a0 The dialogue is stilted and forced, sometimes downright ludicrous.\u00a0 The cinematography is heavy-handed and loaded with clich\u00e9s.\u00a0 Willem Dafoe is amazingly clunky throughout (except during the sex scenes), moving and speaking so woodenly that you never forget he\u2019s an actor saying his lines.\u00a0 Surprisingly the film goes light on exploiting Madonna\u2019s body as gratuitous scenery.\u00a0 She doesn\u2019t dress exotically (she\u2019s in court, after all, trying to convince a jury that she\u2019s a regular sort of person even if she does play with handcuffs and wax), and when she\u2019s being outrageous it\u2019s all under the table, in subtleties and gestures.\u00a0 There are a few moments when she is nothing short of stunning, but someone resisted the temptation to play her body as a major factor in the film, no matter what Mick LaSalle says.<\/p>\n So call it one more bridge crossed in expanding the sexual consciousness of mainstream America.\u00a0 The problem is that in this case the representation is not only flawed but downright dangerous, which is why I was so disillusioned the second time around.\u00a0 Once my amazement wore off and I got to watch the emotional dynamics of the film from the perspective of having seen it all the way through, my delight became undercut by my uneasiness.\u00a0 It\u2019s hard to speak of this coherently without giving the film away, but given where the film goes, it\u2019s as likely to confirm stereotypes about s\/m, and about dominant, controlling women who use their sexual power at the expense of men, as it is to push people to see through such simple-minded perspectives.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n February 2, 1993<\/p>\n Copyright \u00a9 1993 David Steinberg<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<\/p>\n Crying Holy<\/p>\n I had to talk my way into the preview of Wayne Corbitt\u2019s new play, Crying Holy. 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