In repopnse to my argument that Brokeback Mountain is not in any sense a "gay movie," a friend suggested I check out "The Dying Gaul," directed by Craig Lucas from his own adaptation of his play. Its leading character ("hero" is decidedly not the correct term), Robert, played extremely well by Peter Sarsgaard, has a gay identity, although he had been married and fathered a son. His ex-wife appears only once, but is clearly bitter.

The movie, set in 1995, opens with a film studio executive, Jeffrey (Campbell Scott) offering Robert (Peter Sarsgaard) a million dollars for his film script, which is based on the recent death of his lover, on condition that the dying AIDS patient be transformed into a woman. Robert walks out, but is intercepted and coaxed some more by Jeffrey. The arguments Jeffrey makes about the commercial unviability of a story that is (1) gay and (2) a weepie are (too) true—though I think the unwillingness of audiences to pay money to contemplate AIDS deaths is even stronger. Robert weakly suggests "Philadelphia" as a counter-example, but Jeffrey reminds him that "Philadelphia" is about the Denzel Washington character.

Eventually, Jeffrey wins, by making Robert believe that (after selling his soul,) he will be able to use the money to write what he wants. Jeffrey makes a global change of his screenplay character's name (significantly, I think, from "Maurice," the vacillating Englishman who makes the choice Ennis did not in E. M. Forster's posthumously published novel Maurice). And he also starts f___kng Jeffrey.

I have more than a little difficulty in suspending disbelief that any studio executive would (1) offer a million dollars for a downer AIDS script, (2) commence a sexual relationship with a mere writer after contracting his script, and (3) introduce his new male sexual partner to his (Jeffrey's) wife Elaine (Patricia Clarkson). That this married man who seems to have it all (what a house overlooking the ocean!) might want to bottom an openly gay bottom is believably kinky, but Jeffrey did not attain his position of wealth and power by imprudence.

Jeffrey tells Robert that the Hollywood code is "you can do anything [sexually] as long as you don't call it by its right name" (a wordier version of the Mexican motto "Hecho todos, dicho nada"—do everything, say nothing). Robert likes Elaine, but is seemingly unfazed with any guilt about getting it on with the husband of this very sympathetic woman. (Not that he lacks guilt, but it is directed at his dead lover not his new friend.)

I may have already crossed the line into "plot spoiling," but will turn more mysterious in regard to the second half of the movie. I thought that Jeffrey was playing with fire (see implausibility #3 above). From my perspective (which is one from the world of grief in which Robert was living, just before the protease revolution), Elaine is the one who most plays with fire.

Each of the three main characters wants things (intangible things, mostly, like understanding and love) from the other two. Elaine seems to want to heal Robert, to be an angel of mercy, even knowing that he is f__king her husband. Or, more than an angel of mercy, God herself. What she does makes me very queasy. Watching her operate, I was reminded of Jack Nicholson's snarl on the stand in "A Few Good Men": "You want the truth, you couldn't stand the truth." Unfortunately, I could not get up on the screen and into the story to tell her that.

The denouement is extreme, but in my view more plausible—given the set-up—than the set-up.

Have I mentioned that I have trouble believing the set-up? And, that insofar as I can suspend disbelief, I am appalled by what all three characters do? Yeah, I thought so.

Since Robert is grief-stricken (not in his "right mind"), I cut him a little more slack. And I have a particularly strong distaste for the kind of psychological manipulations of both Jeffrey and Elaine. Trying to suspend all that to notice the technical aspects, I think that the opening-up of the play is done very well. A significant part of it occurs in cyberspace, but the house where Jeffrey and Elaine live, particularly its patio, where one or more of the characters frequently is, is stunning and well-used.

Campbell Scott is good at playing shifty characters, none of whose movements seem "natural." Patricia Clarkson is a very accomplished actress and has a complex part to sink her teeth into. The most emotional roller-coaster role is that of Robert, and Peter Sarsgaard makes the vulnerable Robert and his survivor guilt compellingly to the screen.

The film also makes effective use of a musical score by Steve Reich.

Viewers who can watch what these people do with more zoologist-like detachment than I can muster, may appreciate the accomplishments of the actors more than I do (see the more objective review by trust12345). I think that I have been forthright that what the characters do to each other (mind-f__king more than the bisexual betrayals) makes me too uncomfortable to be objective. And, perhaps, I have motivation to disbelieve in the proceedings.

P.S. And I don't think this is a "gay movie," either. It is a cautionary tale for gay man (about the perils of affairs with married men) and for women married to men on "the down-low." And for the latter, too (don't underestimate the capacity of loving wives for revenge for betrayal).



Recommended:
No

Suitability For Children: Not suitable for Children of any age