Mysterious skin (2004), Gregg Araki

Traumatic experiences in childhood could leave huge impact on adolescence. To many people, it is impossible to escape those haunting memories, especially the intense ones like the early sexual encounter.

Eight-year-old Neil had sex for the first time with his charming coach, and from then on no other man could ever fulfill the void that his coach left in him.

“And I know some people might think it’s fucked up or terrible or whatever, but what happened that summer is a huge part of me. No one ever made me feel that way, before or since. Like, I was, I was special.”

To Brian, five hours of being raped by an adult was so mentally unbearable that he had to conceive of aliens to compensate for it.

The movie theme of pedophilia and child abuse really reminds me of the case of Charles Jouy and Sophie Adam in Foucault’s L’Histoire de la sexualité. What should we really think of people like Neil’s coach? Is pedophile really an identity?

All deviant forms of sexuality posed threats to the status quo. When it comes to laws or policy making, regarding utilitarianism, what matters is the well-being for most, not for all.

To queer people, it can’t be more accurate that hell is others, but that is the inevitable price we must pay for socializing. We should not ask for transgender bathroom; we’d rather ask for other acceptable forms of tolerance. Happiness is yet a small blanket for a great number of people in a freezing winter night; one’s satisfaction is compensated with another’s suffering.

This is why we cannot fully live the way we want to. Suppressing ourselves, or adjusting ourselves is to some extent a must for socialization.

(to be revised)


Love, Simon (2018)

Being gay seems like not a big deal in America, which poses a question to me at the beginning of this 2018 movie: What could be the thing that resists this boy’s temptation come out?

Then I realized that even in the most prominent liberal culture, gay people still share a universal hesitant feeling engendered from the dominance of hetero-normative discourses.

I’ve been thinking about why I haven’t come out yet. Maybe it doesn’t seem fair that only gay people have to come out. Why is straight the default? Maybe because I’m not so sure this whole being gay thing is forever. Or maybe it’s not that much high school left, part of me wants to hold onto who’ve I’ve always been, just a little longer. And then, when I go to college in Los Angeles, I’ll be gay and proud. I promise. (Simon)

We’ve even got to talk about our sexual orientation before moving on with relationships and other socialization activities; Or else, we will definitely still face with the personal questions of our favorite types of partner or some straight guys’ babbles about female bodies. It’s the homo sapiens agenda.

Coming out becomes a pretty serious event, for it reverses almost all the conception that people have about us. Both kinds of reaction, sympathizing and disapproving, are just too tiring to watch. Why the hell Simon’s father cries? He reminds me of my elder sister who did cry when I passively came out.

Every gay guy who decides to come out must embrace the possibility that we could be somehow lonely, for most people can no longer say “I know how it feels” when they listen to our problems.

This is obviously a coming-of-age movie, for it has a happy ending. In reality, Blue could be a fat and bald guy, not that hot dude. I lost my hope in blind date long time ago.

My own private Idaho (1991)

First of, I don’t really get some parts of the movie. Its mosaic narrative style confused me. The only thing that makes sense is the beauty of River Phoenix.

I love motorcycle scenes in boys love movies (watch Eternal summer, 2006). They open a special room for the chemistry between the characters. The warm breath on the nape skin, the moments of intimacy that resonate with my memories of sitting on my crush’s motorbike pillion those days in senior high.

Young, beautiful and reckless, the protagonists of My own private Idaho remind me of the characters in Wong Kar-wai’s Days of being wild. Youth is eternity. Eternity is not so much an infinite sequence of moments as a fleeting glimpse. Goethe said, the moment is eternity.

Since when taking this life seriously becomes a noble way of living? Does Scott really have to live up to his father’s expectation of leading a so-called decent life?

The scene in which Mike confides his unrequited love for Scott is sweet but heartbreaking. Youth is something incomplete, filled with regret in some cases.

But why is it Gus Van Sant’s “private Idaho”? The plot was in fact developed from a novel by John Rechy, but the title was given by Gus Van Sant, and it could be a reference to a song by The B-52’s, which, in its turn, refers to Twilight Zone, the last episode of the TV show The Bewitchin’ Pool, whose story is about the kids being neglected by their parents. And that’s also the story of Mike and Scott.

Mike travels back and forth in his constant search of a distant mother whereas his mother is also in search of her distant family. Such causal cycle is really terrific. What is it that makes searching for one’s own root so important?

Then it was vividly symbolized by a scene of salmons swimming up the waterfall. Salmon has an interesting life. They are born in the headwater, but the coming-of-age ones travel downstream to the ocean. Right here, they enjoy their “days of being wild” and when they get mature, they return to the river source to give birth and die.

But, why narcolepsy? I still don’t know.