The Least Worst Thing
Imust admit, against all my better judgment, I actually rather enjoyed Madonna's new film, The Next Best Thing. Make no
mistake, the movie is a total schlockfest that tugs at all the
requisite heart strings, and wraps up its relatively predictable
story in a sappy ending. Furthermore, as Abbie, Madonna proves
once again that she is really not much of an actress (although
she is working against the super-nova stardom of being "Madonna,"
so that it becomes nearly impossible to see past that to any
character she tries to portray), and her affected, British-ist
elocution is maddening throughout. And yet, I can't say that I
hated it.
The cast of The Next Best Thing generally turns in fine
performances, but in a script that offers largely underdeveloped
stereotypes, the actors are left with little opportunity to
breathe much life into their characters. The film follows the
lives of Abbie (Madonna, playing straight) and Robert (Rupert
Everett, playing gay), best friends who, during one drunken
encounter, conceive a son, and decide to raise him together,
unmarried and unwilling to compromise their own sexual lives. The
film chronicles the changes wrought by this situation not only in
Robert and Abbie's lives, but in the lives of those people
closest to them, stereotypical characters whose "changes" are
quite unoriginal. So, Robert's mother (Lynn Redgrave) is
predictably loving and a bit daffy, supporting her gay son
regardless of his decisions, while her husband Richard (Josef
Sommer) toes the line as the father barely containing his
disappointment with his son's gay life, until he's transformed
when Robert's newfound domesticity is threatened.
In a film that tries so hard to question legal and moral
definitions of family and love, this father-son relationship is
one of its most disappointing elements. It is, of course, only
over the gay son's normalization that father and son can bond;
without Robert's (queer) "marriage" to Abbie and his devotion to
their son Sam (Malcolm Stumpf), Richard would continue to be just
as implacably resentful of his son's gayness as he always has
been. It's instructive too, that only Robert has parents (Abbie's
family is nowhere in sight), as if only the parents who would
have a "problem" with this unorthodox situation can or must be
present.
The Next Best Thing follows in the footsteps of a recent trend
in film and television to feature stories about straight girls
with relationship problems and their best gay boy pals.
Obviously, The Object of My Affection (whose straight girl, gay
boy, and a baby formula The Next Best Thing replicates), and
the NBC hit comedy Will and Grace are the closest correlates.
And Everett himself has played this part before, opposite Julia
Roberts in My Best Friend's Wedding. Clearly there are some
cultural anxieties over the status of masculinity and
heterosexual romance at work here. In these representations, gay
boys are either better lovers of men than women, and have a lot
to teach straight girls about being more compassionate, more
attractive, and better in the sack, etc., or else gay boys make
more appealing long-term companions than straight men. Either
way, these varying representations are responding to a perceived
"crisis of masculinity" being experienced in America today (just
think of the cultural response which met Susan Faludi's recent
book Stiffed: The Betrayal of the American Man), and to what I
would say is a crisis of heterosexuality brought on since
(roughly) the mid-to-late 1970s by the fragmentation of a
normative social order in the proliferation of public displays
and acknowledgments of sexual desires -- lesbian, gay, bi, trans,
and beyond.
In response to the diversity of politicized and mediated sexual
publics engendered by and displayed within postmodern America,
what all these representations, including The Next Best Thing,
have in common -- as sanitized (sub)cultural spectacles -- is the
nearly total desexualization of their gay boy pals. In order for
the "platonic" relationship of the gay boy and straight girl to
work (and in order to forestall a heterosexual audience's
presumed anxieties or homophobia), neither must be too successful
at relationships -- indeed, they must largely be failures. Of
course, the straight girls are often given more leeway, more
sexual freedom in these tales than the gay boys. Will and Grace is perhaps the best example of this, working from with the
seemingly more restrictive, oppressive atmosphere of prime time,
major network television -- poor Will, will he ever get laid?
And so, in The Next Best Thing, both Abbie and Robert are shown
to be failures at the game of love. In the beginning, during her
breakup with Kevin (Michael Vartan), Abbie is sniveling and
"codependent" (as Kevin calls her). Yet by the middle of the
film, Abbie has found true love in an investment banker, Ben
(Benjamin Bratt), and their desire to settle into wedded bliss
(and move across the country from LA to New York City) is what
initiates the family drama and custody battle which is The Next Best Thing's primary concern. Robert, on the other hand, is
alone throughout. At the beginning he has recently broken up with
a never-seen ex-boyfriend, and for about two seconds in the
middle, he has a cardiologist lover who breaks up with him
because he refuses to get more involved in the relationship, as
his only concern is his son.
Robert remains isolated not only from an active, embodied
sexuality, but also from any broader support network of gay
friends or gay community. He does have a few queer friends, only
one of which, David (Doogie Howser, MD's Neil Patrick Harris),
seems to have any sort of closeness with Robert. Furthermore,
Robert directly distances himself from those "other," less
domestic (and thus, in the logic of the film, less respectable,
less worthy, etc.) gay men, saying to Abbie, "I'm bored with the
parties, the drugs, the body obsessions." The Next Best Thing
is informed by the conservative political logic of
"respectability" which undergirds, for example, the move towards
legally recognized gay and lesbian marriage. Additionally, it
seems to be directly influenced by the work of gay public
intellectuals like Larry Kramer (who has remarked in the past
that all "we" really want is to be able to get married and to
serve in the military), Andrew Sullivan, and Bruce Bawer (who
calls for "a place at the table" for lesbian and gay America),
and traffics in a specious political "tolerance" which is based
on a certain normalization and desexualization of queer culture
and queer individuals.
What is, perhaps, different from these other straight girl-gay
boy films, is that The Next Best Thing tries to raise complex
and tricky questions about gay people's access to and rights
under the law. The ultimate disappointment of the film is that
after raising these questions, and following its own
assimilationist tendencies, The Next Best Thing offers only
pat, status quo-compliant answers. Early on, at the funeral of
David's lover, the film tries to address the contentious issue of
lesbians and gay men's rights concerning the death of their
partners. As David's lover's family disapproved of his gay life,
and refuse to recognize David as his life partner/spouse (or
whatever else you might want to call him), David finds himself
shut out of the planning of his lover's funeral and the disposal
of his estate. What the film suggests (or rather, merely hints
at) is that if lesbian and gay marriage were legal, this lack of
recourse to estate planning and inheritance law would be
rectified. Rather than suggesting that, as a society, we need to
reconsider the social contract called marriage, as well as the
cultural values and public policies which delimit it, the film
simplistically asserts that legally sanctioned marriage is the
answer to (at least some of) "our" (queers') problems.
The Next Best Thing handles the questions it raises about
custodial rights and lesbian and gay parenting in a similarly
non-critical manner. Really, it is essentially Kramer vs. Kramer for the start of the twenty-first century. Like Robert
Benton's 1979 film, John Schlesinger's reflects contemporary,
shifting cultural values and definitions which accrue to
questions of parenting and family, which come to a head in the
court-room custody battle which takes up the last third of the
movie. What none of the promotional materials prepare you for is
that this legal dispute becomes quite a bitter, rancorous, and
hateful affair, and which is initiated by Abbie's stealing away
with Sam, to move in with Ben. The courtroom drama boils down to
two considerations, in light of which Robert's appeal for joint
custody is denied. First, is the question of biological
paternity. It turns out Robert is not Sam's biological father
after all, and thus he has no legal right to custody, even
though, in practice, he has been Sam's father since birth.
Second, is the question of the "inappropriate" influence of
"deviant lifestyles." When on the stand, Abbie's lawyer grills
Robert about his appropriateness as a "caregiver" (refusing to
call Robert Sam's "father"), and questions whether Sam has ever
been witness to Robert's sexual exploits, specifically whether he
has ever witnessed Robert "performing oral sex" on another man.
Left out of this custodial drama are a number of more complicated
social and political questions. Why, for instance, in a climate
where biology is becoming both more (through genetic selection,
neonatal/fetal care, etc.) and less (through surrogate parenting,
egg/sperm donations, etc.) than it has ever been, is biology
still the last (and often only) factor in deciding on the rights
of parents (or even "caregivers") and the well-being of children?
Further, the legal double standards in dealing with alternative
("deviant") lifestyles, is made horrifically obvious in Robert's
testimony. It is, of course, only Robert who has to take the
stand. Abbie never has to defend her behavior, or her rights or
ability to be a good parent. What would it mean to ask of Abbie
the same question that is asked of Robert? Would is mean
something different, or have a different possible effect on Sam's
development if he witnessed Abbie "performing oral sex" on a man?
And why? The Next Best Thing's final answer to questions of
lesbian and gay parenting, and non-traditional families, is that
the law fails us, and the only possible solution is the one
reached at the very end by Robert and Abbie, an amicable,
negotiated sharing of parental rights and duties reached by two
responsible and rational adults. Well, in a perfect world that
might be so, but what the film also demonstrates is that if not
for Abbie's generous capitulation, Robert would essentially never
be able to see his son again.
And so, with all of these shortcomings, and all of the ways in
which I radically disagree, morally and politically, with the
film, how can I say that I still rather enjoyed The Next Best Thing? All things considered, I would say it is for two
reasons. First, in its attempt to address complex sexual, legal
and political publics, this film (however lamely) draws attention
to some of the very real potential problems and difficulties of
gay parenting in America today. Second is the performance of
Malcolm Stumpf as Sam. Really, this kid is impossibly cute, and
he does an admirable job portraying Sam's love for his gay daddy,
and his confusions over why mommy and daddy don't sleep in the
same room, or what it might mean that daddy is a "faggot." (In a
too self-consciously cute line, Sam explains that being a
"faggot" is "when two boys kiss and they go to the opera," which,
nonetheless, gets a laugh.) It's obvious that the relationship
between Sam and Robert, and particularly as acted by Stumpf,
appeals on some level to a phantasmatic idea/l of gay parenting
(even if it largely leaves out the messy, quotidian details of
parenthood), and this fantasy leads me to feel that even if the
film isn't The Next Best Thing, it is, perhaps, in the context
of recent, similar stories, the least worst thing.