The Prime Time Closet: A History of Gays and Lesbians on TV (26 page)

At the end of season two (“Escape From Oz”), Schillinger makes his move and with Keller’s help, breaks Beecher’s arms and legs. Keller starts to feel guilty because he murdered several homosexual men after having sex with them, scared that people would find out he’s a closet case. He confesses to Father Ray (B.D. Wong), who refuses to absolve him of his sins until he confesses to the authorities (“A Word to the Wise”).

Beecher and Keller are eventually reunited, though it’s difficult enough having a relationship in the outside world, let alone behind iron bars. They are occasionally seen sharing an intimate moment, but their history and respective shifting alliances within the various groups vying for power makes it difficult. Consequently, most of their time is spent launching accusations at each other, seeking revenge, and then trying to win the other back. In prison, candy, flowers, or a simple “I’m sorry” won’t do. You have to show it. Keller eventually wins his way back into Beecher’s pod by going after Schillinger just as he’s about to finish off Beecher. In the end, Keller makes the ultimate sacrifice by taking responsibility for the murder of Schillinger’s brother to protect Beecher, who was accused of the crime. Consequently, Beecher is forced to say adieu to his lover when Keller is transferred to a Massachusetts prison.

Beecher and Keller aren’t the only friends of Dorothy living in Oz. The population includes a group of self-admitted homosexuals who play integral roles in some of the major storylines. In the show’s first season, Billie Keane (Derrick Simmons), an African-American gay man, was badly beaten by the Italians. Billie’s brother, Jefferson (Leon), who was head of the Gangstas, avenged his death. When Jefferson becomes a Muslim, he rejects his brother because Islam doesn’t accept homosexuality. But before Jefferson is executed, he makes amends to Billie, who is subsequently written out of the show.

Islam’s views of homosexuality are again raised when another gay inmate, convicted murderer Jason Cramer (Rob Bogue), asks Said (Eammon Walker), a Muslim, to serve as his lawyer for his appeal. Apparently one of the jurors was overheard making anti-gay remarks. At first, Said has no interest in talking to him. (“Oh, you mean, cause I’m queer and you Muslims consider homosexuality an abomination?” Cramer asks.) Empathizing with a victim of prejudice, Said reconsiders and takes the case. His Muslim brothers object, including Rebadow (George Morfogen), who has a dream that Cramer could be let free on his appeal. Said is confident that won’t happen, until a detective on Cramer’s case admits to tampering with the evidence. Said’s conscience catches up with him and he removes himself from the case; but as Rebadow predicted, Cramer is set free.

In the merry old land of Oz, homosexuality isn’t approached in a made-for-TV fashion as a single, isolated issue. Like Billie Keane and Jason Cramer, homosexuality may be a label society has assigned to you. Or in the case of Beecher and Keller, sexuality is but a single strand within a large, complex nexus of social relations. As Sister Pete states, there are some men who are homosexual and some who need sex. Oz remains one of the most provocative shows on television because characters like Beecham and Keller occupy a place somewhere in between.

Another HBO hit,
Six Feet Under
, is an unpredictable and, at times, surreal drama that features David Fisher (Michael C. Hall), a gay undertaker who runs the family funeral home with his brother Nate (Peter Krause). David is romantically involved with an openly gay police officer, Keith (Michael S. Patrick), but he’s still conflicted about his homosexuality as well as afraid to come out to his brother; neurotic mother, Ruth (Frances Conroy); and misunderstood younger sister, Claire (Lauren Ambrose). Ironically, David’s family members either know or suspect he’s gay and don’t have a problem with it. Over the course of the first season, we follow David as he goes through a coming out process, which is fully integrated into the series’s story lines.

Along the way, David receives guidance and counsel from an unusual source. The series occasionally employs an inventive narrative device involving the Fisher Funeral Home’s latest client, who comes back to life to converse with one of the characters. In two such episodes, David’s interaction with the dearly departed have a significant impact on his relationships with Keith and his mother and on his willingness to come to terms with his homosexuality.

In “Familia,” David and Keith have an argument over an encounter in a parking lot. An impatient guy waiting to take their space makes the mistake of calling them “fags.” Keith grabs the guy out of the car and identifies himself as a cop. “Next time you call someone a fucking fig,” Keith warns, “you make sure that fag isn’t a LAPD police officer.” Back in their car, David suggests Keith overreacted, prompting Keith to reply, “Do you hate yourself that much?”
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Later, while preparing the body of a 20-year-old murder victim, Manuel “Paco” Bolin (Jacob Vargas), a gang member, David starts complaining to the deceased about Keith being too self-righteous. But Paco points out the guy called him a fag also and he didn’t say or do anything. Paco urges him to stop being a “pussy” and apologize to “your boy Keith;” otherwise he’s just “born a bitch.” David’s conversations with Paco not only help him resolve his problems with Keith, but empower him to stand up to a representative from the funeral conglomerate that starts pressuring the Fishers to sell their business.

In a later episode (“A Private Life”), a 23-year-old gay man, Marc Foster Jr. (Brian Poth) is brutally murdered by two gay-bashers. David meets Marc’s parents, who reveal their son never came out to them. Mr. Foster blames Marc’s death on his sexual orientation. “It is the only reason,” he exclaims. “If he wasn’t, he’d be alive today.” The situation parallels David’s relationship with his own mother, who repeatedly tries to get her son to come out to her. When Ruth brings up the subject of Marc’s murder, David doesn’t take the bait because he’s still uncomfortable discussing that aspect of his private life.

When Marc’s ghost later appears to David, our expectations are once again subverted. Instead of encouraging David to come out, the dearly departed turns out to be a self-hating homosexual who regrets giving into the sickness and not having the faith in God to live a “normal life.” David finds himself in the position of arguing for the other side. He points out that living a heterosexual life would have been a lie because homosexuality is not a choice. “That’s just liberal propaganda to justify your own depravity,” Marc responds, “...No matter how nice you fix me up, I’m still going to Hell, and you know it — ‘cause you’re going there, too.”
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Meanwhile, Ruth has a similar conversation when she asks her co-worker at the flower shop, Robbie (Joel Brooks), about his experience coming out to his parents. Robbie admits he never did because he knew his father would never speak to him and his mother would go insane.

At Marc’s funeral, there’s a group of protestors at the cemetery holding signs reading “No Fags in Heaven” and “Homos in Hell.” Keith, who has since broken up with David, has been assigned to keep the crowd under control, which proves difficult when David, in a rage of anger, lunges after one of the protestors. Keith rescues him and David apologizes for the way he acted when they were together. But David still has doubts and admits to Keith that part of him agrees with the protestors.

David is convinced his father would have hated him if he knew, but as Keith points out, he did know. The mistake David made is never talking to him about it.

He finally gets the opportunity by telling his mother, though in the process he doesn’t hide his resentments toward his parents for never really opening up to him. Instead of the usual mother-son coming out scene, writer Kate Robin once again takes us in a completely different direction. David accuses Ruth of only loving him because it’s her duty as a mother, but she explains that it’s much more difficult to play the maternal role with him now that he’s older. He asks that she let him take care of himself. Later that evening, Marc reappears and continues to taunt him about going to hell. David drops to his knees and asks God to take away his pain and to help him “fill this loneliness with your love.”

Despite the series’s surreal quality, the episode approaches the subject of self-hatred and homosexuality with honesty and without quick answers. A network television series would never have turned homosexuality into such a complex issue. Instead of David having a sudden realization and accepting his homosexuality or a tearful heart-to-heart talk with his mother (two devices not uncommon to commercial network series), David’s internal struggle continues. He’s no doubt learning along the way, but Alan Ball and his writing staff clearly understand that coming to terms with your true self is a process, rather than something that can get resolved in the big scene before a commercial break.

In 1984, Showtime produced the first situation comedy for pay cable TV. Created by David Lloyd (
Cheers
),
Brothers
focuses on the relationship between three very different siblings: Lou (Brandon Maggart), a conservative working-class man’s man; Joe (Robert Walden), an ex-pro football player who owns his restaurant; and their baby brother Cliff (Paul Regina). In the pilot episode, Cliff is about to get married, but calls off the wedding at the eleventh hour and makes a shocking announcement — he’s gay. His brothers aren’t exactly thrilled, especially when they meet Cliff’s best friend, Donald (Phillip Charles MacKenzie), a sharp-tongued swishy queen who’s proud of it. (When Joe calls Donald a “fairy,” he retorts, “actually we prefer the term ‘hobgoblin.”’) Joe is offended by Donald and tells Cliff, “If that’s the kind of friend you want, if that’s the kind of person you want to be, you’re no brother of mine.” But it’s a sitcom, so a few scenes later, Joe and Lou are giving Cliff their support.

Played by the amiable Paul Regina, the athletic, masculine Cliff isn’t a stereotypical gay male. But Donald, just like
Will & Grace’s
Jack, is gay enough for both of them. Although some viewers may have found his character objectionable and the humor somewhat base, the series lasted four seasons (1984-1989).

In 1984, a seemingly mainstream situation comedy with this much gay content was considered groundbreaking, especially considering the best known gay series regular was
Dynasty’s
Steven — “I’m gay; no, wait, I’m straight; yup, I’m gay” — Carrington.
Brothers,
rejected by ABC before landing at Showtime, opened new doors by featuring not one, but two gay characters, and tackling some serious gay-themed issues, like AIDS and gay-bashing. The sitcom was also an early indication of the direction Showtime would soon be heading.

In 1994, the network’s CEO, Matt Blank, hired Jerry Ofsay, as the new President of Programming. Ofsay was a labor lawyer and a former executive at ABC Productions, where he was involved in the development of such quality TV series as
My So-Called Life.
Blank and Ofsay implemented a new programming strategy that put greater emphasis on original programming.
⁴⁷
The network increased their programming budget from $150 million in 1994 to $400 million in 2001. The number of made-for-cable films also rose significantly from eight to approximately 35 titles per year. In the process, Showtime gained a reputation with writers and actors as a “creator friendly” network because they gave talent the artistic freedom to produce their “pet projects,” often scripts that couldn’t get made as feature films. Some films, like
Gods and Monsters,
which earned writer/director Bill Condon an Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay, were even released as feature films before airing on Showtime.

Financially, Blank and Ofsay’s strategy paid off. Since 1994, the number of Showtime subscribers rose from 8.9 million in 1994 to 12.8 million in the first quarter of 2001. The number of subscribers to the Showtime Network, which includes Showtime, The Movie Channel, and Flix, rose 121 percent from 13.4 to 29.6 million.
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An important aspect of Showtime’s programming strategy was the inclusion of weekly series that targeted a specific demographic audience. With a subscribership that’s roughly 24 percent African-American and more than 12 percent Latino, Showtime started airing two family dramas with specific cultural/ethnic appeal:
Soul Food
(2000- ), which examines the lives of three African-American sisters in Chicago; and
Resurrection Blvd.
(2000- ), at the time the first and only English language drama about Latinos, focusing on a family in East Los Angeles.
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A third demographic Showtime aimed for was gay men and lesbians. Over the years, the network has aired several original films and miniseries that address specific social and historical gay issues (see inset). It was only a matter of time before they developed a drama for their gay audience. Instead of creating an original series, the network decided to produce a weekly series based on the Channel Four British miniseries,
Queer- as Folk.
The original was quite controversial in Britain due to male nudity and some graphic depiction of gay sex. It also developed a cult following in the States, where it played in gay film festivals across the country. Bootleg copies began circulating until the series was finally released on DVD and video in 2001.

Showtime reportedly spent $10 million promoting the weekly series as part of their “No Limits” campaign, which started back in 1998. According to executive V.P. of original programming Gary Levine, “‘No Limits’ can mean many things. It may mean going to the edge of the envelope in terms of sexuality, language, nudity, and traditional beliefs, and sometimes it means we will reach into a community the TV world has turned its back on. It also means we are not afraid of politically hot topics.”
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If anything was limited about Showtime before this, it was the channel’s popularity with gay and lesbian viewers. According to
Variety,
Showtime executives were concerned about a recent report that stated 66.8 percent of gays and lesbians subscribe to cable television, but Showtime didn’t make the list of the top twelve watched stations.
⁵¹
QAF
was financially risky because it appealed to a niche audience, yet Showtime continued its aggressive marketing campaign for the series, launched in Spring 2000, which included:

The word indeed got out because
QAF
became Showtime’s highest-rated dramatic series. By the end of the its first season in June of 2001, the average rating was double Showtime’s overall prime time average. The show also scored high numbers with 18- to 35-year-olds and female viewers.

The series’s broad appeal isn’t surprising. Male nudity and the occasional graphic sex scene aside,
QAF
is essentially a gay soap opera about the relationship problems — romantic, platonic, and familial — among a group of twentysomethings. While the American version certainly warrants some comparison with the British series, it is, in all fairness, like comparing apples and oranges (the fruit analogy is purely intentional). The original
QAF
was the vision of a single writer, Russell Davies, who penned all eight episodes of the first series and the two-hour conclusion.
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The American version was developed by the producing/writing team of Ron Cowen and Daniel Lipman, creators of
Sisters
and the Showtime series
Leap Years.
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Cowen and Lipman wrote a total of six episodes, including the first three. Writing credit for the remaining fourteen hours was split among a team of six writers.

In the Americanized version, Cowen and Lipman adhered to Davies’s basic premise: Brian (Stuart in the U.K.) is a sexy, smarmy advertising executive who can have any guy he wants. His best friend, the amiable Michael (Vince) is in love with him, as is Brian’s (Stuart’s) latest trick, 17-year-old Justin (Nathan, who is 15 in the U.K. version). The first few episodes follow the British series closely, including the birth of Brian’s son to his lesbian friends, Lindsay and Melanie (Thea Gill and Michelle Clunie).

The American series’s plotlines then begin to take a different direction. For example, in the original, Stuart and Vince’s friend Ted overdoses when a trick gives him some crystal meth. In the U.S., Ted recovers and later becomes involved with the trick (Blake, played by Dean Armstrong), who has difficulty staying clean. More screen time is also devoted to Michael’s relationship with his older and more experienced lover, Dr. David Cameron (Chris Potter), which is taken to the next level when they move in together.

Obviously, a series affords its writers more screen time to develop characters and situations. Unfortunately, neither the writing nor the acting is up to par with the Brits. What made the British
QAF
so terrific was its subtlety, particularly in terms of how it examined the interrelationships among the characters. In building on Davies’s premise, an otherwise simple love triangle is inflated to the point of being stripped of emotional resonance. The result is a rather bland and at times uninspired look at gay life. The three lead actors, Hal Sparks (Michael), Gale Harold (Brian), and Randy Harrison (Justin) lack the experience and edge of their British counterparts. Gale Harold’s Brian exudes none of the charisma of Stuart Allen Jones, which is problematic for a character who is reputedly the object of everyone’s desire.

As the first season progressed, the three lead actors began to grow into their roles. Fortunately, they received some strong support from other cast members, namely Peter Paige, who is terrific as Emmet; Scott Lowell, who has turned Ted into the show’s most interesting character; and Sherry Miller, who, as Justin’s mom, emerges as the series’s most believable character. Then there’s the terrific Sharon Gless, who started way, way over-the-top as Michael’s supportive, spirited PFLAG mother. There’s a difference between “character acting” and “acting like a character.” Gless’s Debbie is loud, brash, and a tad overbearing — characteristics that unfortunately apply to her acting style as well. (As Debbie herself would say, “Tone it down, honey.”)

As for the message
QAF
is “delivering” to Showtime’s million plus subscribers about gay life, it’s important to remember the year under discussion is 2002, not 1972. These aren’t the only gay characters on TV, so to claim anyone who tunes into the series may conclude all gay men are sexually promiscuous, do drugs, and go to bars and discos every night, isn’t giving the audience enough credit. The same goes for Showtime and the show’s producers, who should have more faith in their viewers and eliminate the disclaimer in the closing credits stating that the characters are intended to represent only a segment of the gay population.

Although
Queer as Folk
is certainly the “gayest” show on Showtime (or any other channel), it’s not the only series to include gay characters.
Beggars and Choosers
(1999-2001), which was canceled after only two seasons, took a satirical look at the inner workings of a television network and featured a gay character in its ensemble cast.

Former NBC programming executive Brandon Tartikoff, who died of Hodgkin’s Disease in 1997, created this dramedy that takes a satirical, behind-the-scenes look at the television industry. LGT (Luddin Global Television) is a fictional television network owned by E.L. Luddin, a cantankerous old man. Among the top executives is Malcolm Laffley (played by the talented Tuc Watkins), the network’s closeted gay vice president of casting. By show business standards, Malcolm is essentially one of the few nice guys, continually faced with moral dilemmas.