The Murky Ethics Of Ricky Martin's Big Gay Announcement

I wrote an early draft of this post this morning as a comment on Electroqueer's Facebook status (a very busy place this morning, it seems) and thought I'd like to get your opinion. Here goes:

Does anyone remember Ricky Martin's Behind The Music on VH1 back in the day, where he talked at length about his blond female friend who was "the love of my life"? (Here's the TV Guide archive link to it, where even today it identifies her as his "girlfriend of 10 years." There's a clip of it here, but it's from Asia and blocked for U.S. users.) Yes, he did also say "she'd never be with" him, but they kissed, flirted, etc. At the end of the day, Martin allowed the idea that he was straight to be unmistakably clear to TV Guide, and to any kid watching. Including vulnerable gay kids around the world in need of a role model.

Look, I think everyone should come out, and am glad he did. But by playing heterosexual for all those years (which is an undeniable truth -- livin' la vida loca was always about the ladies, and let's not even discuss "She Bangs"), he made a cold and calculated decision to protect his career at the expense of helping fellow LGBT people. He didn't just avoid the question, or refuse to comment. He lied. I don't dislike Ricky, but that's just the stone cold truth. It was cowardly then, and it's mercenary now.

Idolator's critique of Martin's timing --the coincidence of Ricky's soon-to-be-published memoir following hot on the heels of this revelation -- is cynical, but it has to be considered. Truthfully, I'd have a lot more respect for Ricky if he just stood up and said, "My career is fading, I've got a book coming out and a family to support, and I wanted to tell everyone now that it won't cost me what it once would have." That I can understand, and that I can respect.

So, bravo. Better late than never. But celebrities coming out is never a clear-cut victory for gay equality. Its politics, and its societal effects, are still a murky mess.

ModFabulous: The Pipettes and Lucky Soul

The greatest girl group never to strike it big in America, and my favorite retro-pop hipsters. It's gonna be a good summer, once these two sophomore discs hit my iPod. Picture me shimmy-ing across the living room...

The ModFab Gallery - Playing Favorites

Atomische | Museo del Templo Mayor
gratefully reprinted under Creative Commons License

I know it's probably uncouth to play favorites. After all, every single photographer I link to in the ModFab Gallery is worth your time, energy and exploration. But as with any art form, there are some you find yourselves attracted to the most, and it just so happens that, for me, three of them appear in this week's edition. The first is Bocetos, an artist who excels at both landscape and portraiture; it may be because he primarily photographs midtown Manhattan, which is my own stomping ground, but he makes my daily commute come alive with possibility and vibrancy. In that regard, he is not unlike DoubleCrossed, one of the best in the biz. Her work combines humor, detail and a healthy sense of nostalgia. And finally, I was stunned by the beauty of Turnorama's "Steam" this week, and have been drawn back to it nearly a dozen times since I first saw it. It's the rare combination of natural elements, urban landscape, and an almost anthropomorphic sense of dramatic tension. If I had the cash, frankly, it would be hanging on my wall right now.

Bluejake | A Hangar at Floyd Bennett Field
Bocetos | Midtown Somewhere
Boxman | Keen Eyes
DoubleCrossed | Food
FriskyPics | D-Face Riot
Glitterlens | KT Glee
The Image Point | Leaving The Beach
Lachezar's Photo Notes | The Red Team
Turnorama | Steam
Terra Spirit | Salvation Mountain

And Now, A Word From Our Sponsor...

For those of you who wonder what the hell I'm doing when I should be blogging, you might be interested in two recent publications, both of which include poems by yours truly. The anthology Chopin With Cherries, a collection of solicited poems inspired by the work of the seminal composer, includes "Polonaise For Justyna." And the current issue of Philadelphia Stories includes an all-new version of "Burned."

These will both be included in (fanfare please) my first solo collection of plays and poetry, entitled Glitterdirt, which is being published in late 2010. Just so you know I'm not just lounging around the house, playing video games. :-)

Miranda Was Always My Favorite...

...and she rocks. Completely.

Stage Addiction: The Brantley Problem

Look, we're smart theatre people here. And as such, we know there are a few truths about Broadway that are pretty much unassailable. We know that Hugh Jackman can sell out any show, any time, anywhere. We know that Bernadette Peters is a star...but only on the island of Manhattan. And we all know that Ben Brantley has, for most of his career as the first-string critic of the New York Times, been an unmitigated disaster. Walter Kerr, Brooks Atkinson, Frank Rich...the great legacy of Times criticism lies in rubble these days, in my opinion.

But Brantley's rarely been as far off the mark as he is today about A Behanding in Spokane...as someone who attended the same performance Brantley did, I'm at a loss as to how he came to his muddled and misguided perceptions. It's not that I loved the play, or that he trashed it -- as you can see, he loved Walken, who is phenomenal -- but that Brantley, so often and so distressingly, simply writes bullshit. Here, he calls the characters "hapless, bored and obsessive." Two might be hapless at a stretch, but none, NONE of them are bored. Then he slams the playwright with a withering critique...that he liked his other plays better. It's like Brantley is fundamentally incapable of providing a mature view of art, much less one containing context or insight. (The play, by the way, is a farce...which means that it's purposefully, not accidentally, zany.)

Agh. I know we live in a thumbs-up, thumbs-down, instant-gratification culture. But is that an excuse for a critical powerhouse to phone it in all the time? Here we are, suffering through one of Broadway's weakest seasons in years, and a decent play comes along...only to have Brantley miss the point yet again. If he keeps this up, all theatre lovers will ever have are dull revivals, Brit imports, and Mamma Mia.

(P.S. -- Go see it, and judge for yourself. It's not a perfect play, but it is a very good time.)

Harold Ford: Upon Further Reflection...

Ooooo, someone's a little testy. Hey dude, if you can't take the heat, get out of Hell's Kitchen.