Walking the Dead
Film historian Thomas Waugh contends that “melodrama has…a privileged relationship with gay men, situated as we are, like women, if not outside patriarchal power, in ambiguous and contradictory relationship to it.” For Waugh, “that much-stigmatized genre” stands opposed to “the male genres of effective action and rationality in the outside world, from the western to the whodunit.” Melodramas focus on the emotions and their attendant bodily responses (they’re called tearjerkers for a reason). Bringing us back to the unpredictable, uncontrollable body, which sends patriarchy into a cold sweat, melodrama is ready-made for gay subversion.
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Waugh’s look at independent gay filmmakers’ responses to AIDS in his article “Erotic Self-Images in the Gay Male AIDS Melodrama” ably bears out his theory. But even a cursory glance at contemporary gay theater, whether about AIDS or not, shows how ineffectual melodrama can be. Onstage, melodrama often seems less a subversive choice than a default mode, arising more or less by accident. Aiming for high tragedy, romantic pathos, or community empowerment, most gay playwrights–not unlike their straight counterparts–end up with watered-down soap operas or stilted sitcoms. Rather than subversion we get soup.
Director Jeffrey Hoffman does little to sort things out. The numerous “reenactments” are fully articulated; the characters, who aren’t supposed to be actors, instantly disappear into their scenes, performing as though they’ve had years of theatrical training. Melissa Van Kersen delivers a thoughtful, deeply felt performance as Veronica, but since Hoffman strands her in a blackout at the end of her scenes, her only choice is to schlep offstage and hope that no one notices–even when she’s left slumped in an alley.
