Brooke Guinan is the first transgendered woman firefighter in the FDNY, something that has come with challenges beyond her transitioning and her private struggles. Now seen as an example of a courage and tenacity, she tells her story through showing her life and interviews.
During the 1960s and 1970s, Paul Lynde was one of the funniest men in films and television. On this show, we learn about the comic actor’s off-screen world from Cathy Rudolph, a trusted friend of Lynde who recalled his life in the biography “Paul Lynde: A Biography – His Life, His Love(s) and His Laughter,” published by BearManor Media.
On this episode, we will be exploring the evolution of LGBT cinema and the film world’s historic progress (and ongoing challenges) in presenting gay and lesbian characters and LGBT-themed subjects. Our guest is actor/comic/social commentator Kevin Dolan.
By the time he reached 22, Bronx-born Sal Mineo received Academy Award nominations for his extraordinary performances in “Rebel Without a Cause” and “Exodus.” By the time he reached 25, he was virtually unemployable in the film world. Today’s episode traces the rise and fall of this complex actor with Michael Michaud, author of the wonderful book “Sal Mineo: A Biography.”
In 1984, Toronto-based filmmaker Richard Fung released Orientations: Lesbian and Gay Asians, which focused on 14 men and women of South, East and Southeast Asian backgrounds. The film broke new ground in detailing both the increasingly visible LGBT community within Canada and the unique cultural challenges that Asian-Canadians faced both in the LGBT world, their own cultures and the wider national society.
A gay local radio host, David, questions his life as he fights another radio host, tries to find love, and he’s asked to be a father figure by his sister who is adopting internationally. His life is explored through his relationships with his sister, her ghost, and his boyfriend. The David Dance is written by its star Don Scimé and directed by Aprill Winney who has directed three other features and some television. Together, they build a personal and touching family drama. It touches many family and gay issues through the lead, his sister, and his boyfriend.
In post-World War II America, homosexuality was being addressed with various degrees of maturity and artistry in literature and theater – but not in cinema, thanks to the restrictive Production Code censorship that governed Hollywood. Far removed from the movie industry, 17-year-old Kenneth Anger used cinema to consider homoeroticism with the 14-minute “Fireworks,” which was certainly the most daring film of 1947 – and is still among the most astonishing productions ever made.
For this experimental work, Anger cast himself as a young man whose sex-fueled fantasies become a violent reality. From its opening, Anger immediately breaks taboos by suggesting the dream of the youth being held in the arms of a hunky sailor. The youth awakes and it appears that he has an erection – but the pulling back of the blanket reveals he was holding a statuette to simulate his phallic tower. Slipping through a door marked “Gents,” he winds up in a bar where a bodybuilder sailor shows off his muscles – but when the youth offers the sailor a cigarette, the sailor slaps him in the face and twists his arm behind his back. The sailor later lights the youth’s cigarette with a flame burning at the end of a bundle of sticks – or, to be crude, using a faggot to light up a faggot.
Then, more sailors show up, with their leader holding a large chain. They surround the youth, who sinks to the ground. The youth is framed in tight close-up, screaming with blood being splattered across his face, as sailors beat him with chains and cut open his chest to find a gas gauge in his heart. This assault is followed by white liquid being poured on the youth’s face and body. One of the sailors is seen with a lit Roman candle dangling from his fly. But it turns out to have just been a sadomasochistic dream as the youth shares his bed with another man (although this partner’s face is scratched out of the print in a manner that gives his head a cartoonish sunshine glow).
Not unlike many experimental films, there is a degree of artistic wobbling going on – a Christmas tree is trotted out for no clear reason and a few shots are not in focus. But the sheer audacity of the film’s most visceral images and its unapologetic consideration that the orgy of sexual violence was little more than a dream – that ultimate storytelling cliché, played for a big gay laugh here – were far ahead of its time. And, maybe, with its willingness to jettison aesthetic safety for sheer carnal outrageousness, “Fireworks” is also ahead of our time.