Published by Douglas Messerli, the World Cinema Review features full-length reviews on film from the beginning of the industry to the present day, but the primary focus is on films of intelligence and cinematic quality, with an eye to exposing its readers to the best works in international film history.
Van Sant (screenplay, based on Mala
Noche: And Other "Illegal" Adventures by Walt Curtis, and
director) Mala Noche / 1986
of watching the annual National Dog Show on Thanksgiving morning, this year I
viewed Gus Van Sant’s 1986 film Mala
Noche, his first feature work, shot on a budget of only $25,000.
Yet this film, with its rich black and
whites, its jazz-influenced cinematic rhythms, and its excellent lead actor, Tim
Streeter, playing the handsome, comfortably gay grocer, Walt Curtis, the film
does not at all have the look of a cheap budget piece—in part because it is
mostly filmed on site in Portland’s Skid Row, a seedy area of town where Curtis
sells candy, chips, cigarettes and liquor to the homeless and drunks when they
can get together enough money to buy anything. His best friend, Betty (Nyla
McCarthy) is a female stripper.
Perhaps the real reason Curtis has
chosen to hang out in this part of town is his addiction to young homeless
Mexican boys, and as the movie starts he’s just fallen for a long-haired,
thick-lipped boy named Johnny (Doug Cooeyate), who has just hopped a freight
train with his friend Roberto Pepper (Ray Monge).The two boys seem to have somewhat
close relationship, which may or may not be sexual. But what is clear, once
Curtis begins to move in on Johnny, is that the boy will have nothing to do
with putos (faggots).
Refusing to give up, Curtis, with the
help of Betty, invites the two boys to her house for dinner so that Curtis
might have a chance to seduce Johnny, if not through his quite apparent
personal and sexual charm, simply by paying him all he has ($15) to spend the
night. Johnny demands $25, but Curtis is only a little better off financially
than the boys, although we recognizes that his age, sex, race, language and
having even some money gives him all the advantage over the two lost boys, who
say they are 18, but as Curtis notes to another, are probably closer to 16. In
short, he recognizes himself as a kind of predator, but simply cannot help
himself. And, although these issues are certainly at play in Van Sant’s film,
the director portrays Curtis (in real life, the writer of this work, who
performs a small role as a poet named George) as so likeable and accepting of
his role in life, that we might almost forgive his preying on these boys and
others before them .
Unable to bed Johnny, Curtis offers
Roberto (who has been accidentally locked out of the cheap dormitory where he
lives with Johnny), a place to stay for the rainy Portland night, allowing the
boy to fuck him and settling for what he regards as “second best.”
But even the recognition that Johnny will
probably never accept his love doesn’t stop him for continuing to try to
convince the pouting and volatile young boy of his love for him, sometimes with
very comical results. And the rest of the film is spent in the three of them
circling each other, as Curtis gradually begins to play a kind of likeable
father figure, taking the boys on drives in the country in his beat-up car,
teaching and allowing them to drive—sometimes with dangerous consequences—and
slipping them extra money or providing free food, even allowing them on
occasion to rob him.
When Johnny suddenly disappears, Curtis
is devastated, and Roberto is stranded without any place to go, finally
accepting Curtis’ invitation to live with him. Even then, Roberto is
conventionally macho, refusing to have sex at any time but night, and
forcefully resisting Curtis' daytime advances. He is brutal, insists Curtis, but
“I guess he can’t help it, growing up as he has,” revealing some of his own
Johnny finally shows up again, having been
arrested, deported, and swimming the Rio Grande to get back to Portland. We
might even wonder if he hasn’t returned to be with both his buddy and Curtis.
But in the interim, one the “bad nights”
of the film’s title has occurred as the police, called to Curtis’ apartment building
because a neighbor has spotted a strange intruder, who cautiously enter, terrifying
the young runaway Roberto who, grabbing a gun, tries to make a run for it, to
be shot and killed by the cops. Curtis, returning home from work, discovers the
dying boy and holds him in a position that is similar to a pietà, realizing their shard human condition.
his return, Johnny now seems willing to spend time with Curtis, but hearing of
his friend’s death, accuses Curtis of lying and, after carving the word “puto”
into his door, runs off, never to return, despite Curtis’ continued invitations
and open invitation to come by. It is clear, after Johnny speaks to a young
male prostitute, that he also will be forced into that dark world.
What is so remarkable about Van Sant’s
film is not only the editing and beautiful cinematography by John Campbell, but
the director’s absolute embracement of his characters despite their vagaries
and flaws. As several critics have pointed out, Van Sant not only is totally
nonchalant about their sexuality but refuses to judge them for their often
outrageous behaviors. This is not simply a “gay” film, a work about a gay man,
but a work that helped lay the foundation for what was later described as New Queer Cinema,
rejecting the idea of societally normative attitudes of sexuality and behavior.
There are neither saints nor even true sinners in Mala Noche, but simply individuals who try their best to get
through many a bad day and night, often succeeding as much as they fail by loving
the only ways they know how.
November 24, 2017
from World Cinema Review (November