Queer as Teens
With the airing of the Showtime version of Queer as Folk and the stateside release of Nico and Dani,
candid sexual scenes and explicit representations of
gay sexuality involving minors are coming into their
own.
Although Nico and Dani, made in Spain, is lacking in
acting, cinematography, and overall production value,
it makes up for much of its shortcomings with its
sensitive consideration of sexuality, adoration,
friendship, and late adolescence. Like Larry Clark's
Kids, Nico and Dani tests the American boundaries
for sexual content involving minors, extending the
test to include gay sex. Although the explicitness of
the sex scenes between Nico (Jordi Vilches) and Dani
(Fernando Ramallo), two Spanish boys discovering and
experiencing sex for the first time, is not quite so
unbridled as it might be in a piece by Canadian
independent filmmaker Bruce LaBruce (No Skin Off My Ass and Hustler White), it might nonetheless shock
U.S. audiences with its only partially concealed
mutual masturbation, anal and oral intercourse, and
the ever-so taboo kissing scene.
Nico and Dani is probably what Dawson's Creek
would be if it was directed by Almodovar. As
demonstrated by the history of films by Fellini,
Bergman, and Godard, European movies that make it to
American theaters are usually considered "artistic,"
in technique (cinematography, acting, and writing) or
in their deep, complex, figurative meanings. Nico and Dani is not an "artsy" foreign movie. The camera
fails to capture any majestic shots of the Spanish
suburbs or beaches where the action takes place; its
visual quality resembles that of television, as does
its plot. Due to its bland and banal visual (and
audio) imagery, the film struggles to communicate its
ideas through means other than the plot and dialogue.
The acting, at times, appears terribly forced, in
particular during two faux scuffle/wrestling scene on
a train platform, when the young performers' physical
motions look similar to that of an instructional
karate video. The style and format of the film also
mimic those of an American teenage drama, with few
exceptions. The soundtrack's instrumental pieces --
bluesy guitar-and-harmonica music hybridized with
unimaginative, period-less rock and roll -- fade in
and out to mark the beginnings and ends of the film's
short scenes. (In fact, the soundtrack sounds as if
the musicians never saw the film and were not even
mildly interested in the plot: it would have been more
appropriate as background music for a NASCAR
commercial). These scenes are further introduced with
a short line or exchange of dialogue that appears as
text on the screen, and foreshadows and summarizes
what's coming up. In between scenes, the screen goes
blank, as if setting up for a commercial break that
never comes.
For all its shortcomings, what separates Nico and Dani from the usual Hollywood schlock about teenage
love, is its positive portrayal of homosexual
adolescents and homosexual sex. In no way are these
boys depicted as abnormal, outcast, or freakish. Their
behavior is accepted and even condoned by their peers
and the adults around them. A brief sexual encounter
between Dani and a middle-aged friend of his father,
Julian (Chisco Amado), is portrayed uncritically. The
viewer is not led to believe that the relationship is
inapropriate, or that Julian is a child molester or
incorrigible seducer. Nico and Dani is able to
present a positive message concerning homosexuality by
not offering a heavy-handed or subtextual meaning. It
suggests instead that homosexuality is natural and
normal, and can be beautiful.
This is a gay Loser, American Pie, or Sixteen Candles, whose equivalent has yet to be produced in
Hollywood. To this end, the film incorporates many of
the cliches of mainstream teenage films, like the
opening scene in which the parents are leaving for
vacation, as in Risky Business. And yet, the movie
does not appear to be created specifically for teenage
audiences. It transcends that category by daring to
look at complex and controversial issues.
Not only does the film encourage viewers to accept the
normality of homosexuality, it also presents a
convincing -- and rare -- depiction of bisexuality. As
Marjorie Garber suggests in her recent book,
Bisexuality, this sexual orientation is most often
forgotten and rejected, by both heterosexuals and
homosexuals. Nico clearly appears to enjoy sexual
relations with both males and females, and seems torn
between his interest in numerous women, especially
Elena (Marieta Oroco), and Dani. Similar to his
handling of the boys' homosexuality, director Cesc Gay
presents an affirmative depiction of bisexuality, by
offering Nico as an adolescent happily and
successfully exploring sexuality with both Dani and
Elena.
Since homosexuality and bisexuality are never called
into question by the film, acceptance of them might
appear to be a prerequisite for appreciating Nico and Dani. But the film doesn't attempt to persuade the
audience to accept various sexual orientations in
didactic or overt ways. And because of this subtlety,
Nico and Dani might encourage viewers to see all
sexuality from a different perspective.