9/25/06: Hate Crime (2005)It’s inspiring to see a new website like
Republican Spectacular, as editor Dorian Davis confronts all kinds of culture from the perspective of a gay conservative. Mainly, we’re inspired to review the hi-larious
Hate Crime before Dorian does a better job.
This baffling indie opens with normal-gay-guy Robbie enjoying a morning jog in his suburban Dallas neighborhood. He’s got a new neighbor moving in, and Robbie stops to help the guy back up the U-Haul. Your first impression is that we’re looking at a potential couple. However, it turns out that Robbie already lives with Trey, his equally handsome boyfriend.
There still seems to be a potential love triangle. That’s if you don’t notice the ominous “God bless” that the new neighbor says at the end of their first conversation. That turns out to be foreshadowing—
if not harassment.
Trey’s heading off to work, and Robbie kisses him goodbye in the driveway. This really irritates the new neighbor. Good thing he didn’t overhear the couple’s conversation about their upcoming commitment ceremony. Anyway, we spend some time establishing that Robbie and Trey have a perfectly normal relationship. We also see new neighbor Chris teaching children about the Bible in Sunday school. That’s foreshadowing, too—
if not harassment.
Just in case that’s too subtle, Chris is later seen in his backyard while a friend makes jokes about gay bashing. Chris doesn’t like the jokes, though. “The word ‘fag’ makes me sick to my stomach,” he declares. Chris is such a homophobe that he can’t even enjoy punch lines about dead homosexuals.
His bigoted pal—who, like Chris, looks like he should be catering Robbie and Trey’s commitment ceremony—helpfully adds that the two could be “doing something” about Chris’ pesky neighbors. Chris’s own big idea is to lurk on Robbie’s porch at night, and menacingly intone, “You’re going to Hell.” There’s the welcome wagon in reverse.
Chris’ problem turns out to be hereditary. His father is the pastor of Chris’ church, and he’s equally disturbed by the gays next door. Meanwhile, Robbie tells Trey about Chris hanging out on their front porch. “At least we can forget about the housewarming gift,” Trey replies. The poor guy thinks he’s in an episode of
Will & Grace instead of a movie called
Hate Crime.
This would be a good time for Trey or Robbie to point out the obvious: “But Chris is
so gay!” And he is. Chris’ preferred uniform is a tapered short-sleeved dress shirt buttoned to the collar—without a tie. He spends a lot of time at the gym. His carefully-gelled hair has nice blonde highlights.
No bonus points on our gaydar, though, since we see Chris sitting outside the kind of porn parlor that has the kind of booths that appeal to the kind of man who likes to get together with other men. The poor soul is in the closet—which means that he’s truly gifted at styling his own hair. There’s no doubt about the sexual preference of a guy who gets his hair done like that at the beauty parlor.
The film’s already moving slower than
Tank Girl. It still takes a while before Trey gets beaten with a baseball bat in what has to be the most ominously-lit park in the history of Texas suburbia. You don’t see who does the bashing. That means the assailant isn’t Chris. If there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s that writer/director Tommy Stovall isn’t subtle enough to create an air of mystery.
The evildoer has to be either Chris’ pal with the fag jokes, or Chris’ father. Of course, Robbie —like Trey, now clinging to life in a hospital—doesn’t know that he’s in a bad movie. He suspects Chris. It’ll be a while before he thinks otherwise, which provides for what seems like hours of more heavy-handed filmmaking.
This leads to one of the funniest moments in the history of Leftist cinema. The camera cuts between Chris’ angry father preaching in his big suburban church, and Trey’s loving father attending a more humble service. Chris’ father is literally preaching fire and brimstone. Trey’s father is hearing a soft-spoken message about love and hope and tolerance.
Chris’ father then ends his sermon—and the intercutting—by slamming his fist on the podium and shouting that God “will punish you!” That’s when Trey has a seizure and dies. If you’re going to make a movie about a hate crime, then you should avoid suggesting that God is on the assailant’s side.
Robbie can’t shoot God, so he puts together a convoluted revenge plot. This allows
Hate Crime to become a typical actioner about a man who can’t get justice so he has to take it into his own hands. The character might as well have been married to Brooke Shields.
The good news is that gays aren’t stupid.
Hate Crime already has a reputation as a gay film that’s only packaged that way to win prizes at indie festivals. Still, let’s give the movie some credit. Robbie keeps a gun around the house, and that’s in the spirit of
Thelma & Louise—which a documentary on the Logo channel recently assured us was a quintessentially queer film. That’s two gay films that are pro-gun and support the death penalty. We really can all just get along.
Make it your own: George Clooney’s narcissistic acceptance speech got us to watch our
Hate Crime screener instead of this year’s Academy Awards. After months of threatened theatrical exhibition, the film is finally limping to
a DVD release.
