JEFFREY
Directed by Christopher Ashley
Written by Paul Rudnick (based on his play)
With Steven Webber (Jeffrey), Michael T.
Weiss
113 minutes, 1998, USA
Originally written April 2003
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JEFFREY wants to be a touching romantic
comedy about AIDS, but it also asks, what kind of movie would Woody Allen make
if he were gay and untalented? The opening shot of fireworks over Manhattan,
the strangers who stop and give advice while Jeffrey ruminates on the sidewalk,
the talking to the camera, the hyperventilating neurotic, the old-time jazz
soundtrack; it's all lifted from ANNIE HALL and MANHATTAN, among others. Not
that homage can't be done successfully, but in this case it's done with so
little flair that it's only a reminder of how great Allen's films are and this
one isn't.
The Woodyisms, however, are overshadowed
when the film starts to develop some misguided attitudes toward HIV and AIDS.
Made in 1995, JEFFREY was released at a time when, for those HIV-negative, we
were adjusting to living in a state of constant anxiety and were getting
somewhat perturbed with this fatal annoyance hovering over our every sexual
decision. Gays weren't that visible in the mass media, and much of JEFFREY's
popularity could be attributed to seeing for the first time a film convey our
frustration and angst around AIDS, regardless of how poorly.
The story begins with a string of Jeffrey's
fretful sexual conquests, rendered unpleasant by broken condoms, fussing over
the accuracy of each other's HIV tests, and partners who are so over-protective
they practically wrap their whole bodies in plastic. Having come to the
conclusion that sex is no longer fun, Jeffrey's response is to give up sex
completely and live a life of absistence.
This decision is not only unrealistic, it's
unreasonable. Jeffrey's problem isn't HIV, but that he chooses partners who are
just as neurotic as he is. Monogamy would be an option, or finding partners who
are emotionally grounded as well as safe, or not having anal sex if broken
condoms are a concern. A mild dose of anxiety is one of our best defenses
against getting HIV, but the film would rather have us believe that this isn't
a cautionary instinct, but a problem. Of course, if Jeffrey wasn't neurotic, we
wouldn't have a comedy. Then again maybe a flat-out farce was never the right
vehicle to explore the complex issues around how we react to AIDS.
Jeffrey finds his new life of chastity in
jeopardy when he encounters Steve at the gym. With the muscles and tough, sexy
looks of a fitness-magazine model or a porn star, Steve attempts to lay a fat
kiss on Jeffrey on the weight bench. Now, we know that when sparks fly, they do
fly fast, but no one in their right mind would risk losing their gym membership
by making out with a patron in the middle of the facility (that's what the
showers are for). The fact that Steve would make such a vulgar move in public
less than a minute after "hello" would be enough to frighten the most
experienced slut. Jeffrey does indeed run away, not because he's given the
creeps, but because he panics. Turns out he thinks this douchebag is the Mr.
Right he's been searching for all his life.
Just before all faith is lost in this mess,
we're introduced to Patrick Stewart in his first film role after becoming
universally known as Captain Picard on STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION. One of
Stewart's gifts on STAR TREK was that he could make bad dialogue credible by
delivering it with such earnest conviction that even the worst episodes became
somewhat engaging; there was a fascination with seeing bad television done as
Shakespeare. Stewart brings the same presence to Jeffrey, playing Sterling,
Jeffrey's best friend and a flamboyant queen.
Sterling serves two purposes in the story. One
is to re-introduce Jeffrey, by chance, to Steve. Their chemistry is affirmed by
dead dialogue, such as when Steve proclaims, "If I don't touch you soon, I
may explode," and Jeffrey's assertion, "You could change me, you
could change the world." The world? Really?
(While I point out the film's amateurish
script, it's also worth noting that the writer, Paul Rudnick, has actually
written some sharp satirical pieces under the name Libby Gelman-Waxner in
PREMIERE magazine, and has written several popular novels and plays.)
Steve quickly reveals that he's
HIV-positive. As if Jeffrey wasn't a wreck to begin with, he's now in a
tailspin. As Woody Allen once wrote (and Rudnick could never deliver such a
line), "I hear 50 thousand dollars worth of psychotherapy dialing
911."
Sterling's more important purpose, though,
is to act as a foil to Jeffrey's fear of HIV. His partner, Darius (a bemusing
airhead and the only other satisfying performance of the film), is fighting
AIDS, and together they make an example of how an HIV-negative person can have
a fulfilling relationship with a positive man. Love, apparently, conquers all
fears.
However, it's a mixed message. Jeffrey
grills Sterling as to how he can't fear contracting HIV, having lived with an
infected man for two years (you'd think this conversation would have happened
much earlier in their friendship). Sterling's response is, "We have safe
sex," which would be a reasonable enough reply if he hadn't followed it
with, "It's the best!" as if safe sex were a product he was selling,
like laundry detergent.
Later in the film Sterling proclaims,
"HIV-positive men are the hottest!" What it is about the virus that
makes infected men so much hotter is not explained, nor should it be. While
it's commendable that a film would try to combat negative attitudes about positive
men, it's a ridiculous message that gives us yet another stereotype, by forming
a blanket value judgment of a group without considering them as individuals.
And the broader message seems to be that,
since HIV makes you a hot guy, maybe you should go out and get it, too. I don't
think Rudnick intended to say as much, but it's prescient of today's safe-sex
backlash. In today's culture, Jeffrey wouldn't abstain, but would end his
neurosis once and for all by snorting a line of meth, barebacking and getting
infected.
JEFFREY is padded with several vignettes
and fantasy segments that detour from the story. Rudnick uses these sophomoric
skits to turn his film into a smorgasbord of issues, which might have been
somewhat more amusing in the 1990s atmosphere of political correctness, but by
today's standards look anachronistic. The film deals very superficially with
gay bashing, transsexuality, sexual compulsiveness, and even nipple piercing.
There is one genuinely funny scene where Jeffrey imagines what it would be like
to get sex advice over the phone from his parents, but after 50 minutes of flat
jokes and pointless asides, the ability to enjoy the film has been
extinguished.
The film's insult is not in the stale
humour, however, but when it tries to smack us over the head with its cast-iron
message.
Such as the passage where Jeffrey turns to
the church for spiritual guidance. Jeffrey cries out to the priest, "Why
did God make the world this way? Why do I have to live in it?" Perhaps if
Jeffrey were the one dying of AIDS, he'd have a right to ask that question. The
fact that he's healthy and only contemplating dating an HIV-positive man, it's
offensive that the film asks us to sympathise with his unjustifiable anguish.
The dramatic climax comes when Jeffrey is
late for a hospital visit and misses Darius' last moments before dying.
Sterling is in grief but finds Jeffrey's condolences hollow and eventually asks
him to leave. "Darius thought you were the saddest person he ever
knew," Sterling reveals. "He had a fatal disease yet he was a
thousand times happier than you." Jeffrey has a different take. "I
don't want Steve to die on me the way Darius died on you. Is this what you want
for me?"
It's a powerful scene that succinctly
portrays two honest reactions to AIDS. But then the script dips once more into
the well of cliché and sanctimony; the ghosts of Darius and some of Jeffrey's
relatives appear in the hospital corridor to deliver another pious life lesson.
Jeffrey is taught that all of his opinions were wrong and Sterling's opinions
were right, and he should pursue Steve after all.
There would be a touching comedy-drama here
if only Rudnick had let the audience understand the characters' faults, fears,
and strengths without judgment. Which brings me back to Woody Allen. If his
work is to be aped, Rudnick should have taken a closer look at MANHATTAN or
HUSBANDS AND WIVES to see how complete and honest Allen is with his portrayal
of people who struggle to find comfort in love, and find it a journey and not some
breakthrough that follows a sermon.
Having said all that, I am open to the fact
that maybe I didn't fully understand this film. Consider this: Jeffrey
announces that he's moving back to Wisconsin, presumably to escape the urban
AIDS crisis. When he changes his mind in the closing reel, Steve contemplates
taking Jeffrey as his boyfriend. But he's concerned: "You were going to
run away. How do I know you won't leave me?" Jeffrey's response:
"Because I'm gay and I live in this city. I am not an innocent bystander."
If that sounds as convincing to you as it
did to Steve, perhaps there's a whole level of meaning to this movie that I
couldn't grasp.
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