Saturday, January 29, 2011

Loved it!

I really liked Funkytown. The actors (Huard is so hot in this film), the writing, the interweaving plots, the scenes (spotted some anachronisms, like the building on McGill College with the pyramid roof, built in 1992) and of course the music. They even shot several scenes in Habitat 67! 

In addition to my 1976-vintage bf -- who snuck off to steal some scenes from Green Hornet, I was accompanied by friend Gordon, one year younger than I and who also lived Stanley Street. Unlike some of my OTHER FRIENDS, he didn't mind my comments whispered to him throughout the film; in fact, he was just as chatty. The crowd in the cinema was surprisingly thin -- and I don't mean the Wallace Simpson kind, so we didn't disturb anyone. 

I was surprised that in the only scene shot in the "homo" bar, which would be Le Jardin, the music playing sounded more like rock, and definitely not disco. Seems to me it was always disco, except for slow dances -- which was your chance to ask someone to dance and rub up against him and eventually go home together. Then there were the drag shows. I didn't much care for all those skinny young queens lip-synching, maybe mostly because the shows ate up valuable cruising time. After all, the typical gay male brain (the lower one, that is) is incapable of enjoying drag queens and looking lustily at other men at the same time. 

We loved the bilingualism. For instance, when the Coco character (Jonathon, in the film) was told something in French and he replied in English. Typical of the way we speak in Montreal, then and now. After all, Stanley Street is where I really learned to speak French (there, and in the guys' flats afterward, of course). Back then, us gay boys were the most bilingual Montrealers.

I believe I recognized the outdoor cruising ground Jonathon called "the bridge" as the ancient train overpasses below Wellington on Ann Street. But I'm not aware of that being a place to go at the time or ever since. Back then, it was "Supper on Tupper," where we performed outrageous sins in residents' back alleys. How did we ever get away with it?

Incidentally, I don't remember anyone dressing in polyester vest-and-bellbottom suits outside of Saturday Night Fever. Not to say they didn't. I remember tight shirts, but I was strictly a T-shirt and jeans kinda boy.

BTW: '76 model BF really did like it, especially the music.

For a real review, read Brendan Kelly's of the Gazette.

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