Remember the It Gets Better
project? After the tragic suicides of LGBTQ youth across the nation, CEOs,
celebrities, and just plain ol’ people came out in droves with short,
inspirational videos encouraging these teens that life does get better, despite
the hardships they face now. I believe that this project is beautiful and
moving, and I am in no means making light of the situation or the efforts of
powerful people.
That being said, I can’t help but ask the question,
in the context of Hollywood entertainment, does
it get better? If you take a closer look at LGBTQ actors, I think you’ll
find that they face similar discrimination, though it may not be as outright as
physical violence.
For instance, one of the most visible out-and-proud
actors is Sean Hayes, who is most famous for his portrayal of the flamboyantly
gay Jack McFarland on the NBC sitcom Will
& Grace. He won an Emmy, and was nominated another five times for his
work (in addition to countless other nominations for other awards). The
character of Jack is up there with the George Constanzas and Fraisers of
legendary sitcom characters, so in that regard, it’s no wonder that Jack will
always be an evident part of Sean Hayes.
However, when Hayes played opposite Kristin
Chenoweth in Promises, Promises on
Broadway, many (quietly) questioned Hayes’ ability to play a straight character
with the prominence of his sexuality. In a highly controversial Newsweek article,
writer Ramin Setoodeh noted that critics ignored “the big pink elephant in the
room:”
“Hayes is among Hollywood’s best verbal
slapstickers, but his sexual orientation is part of who he is, and also part of
his charm…But frankly, it’s weird seeing Hayes play straight. He comes off as
wooden and insincere, as if he’s trying to hide something, which of course he
is. Even the play’s most hilarious scene, when Chuck tries to pick up a drunk
woman at a bar, devolves into unintentional camp. Is it funny because of all the
60’s era one-liners, or because the woman is so drunk (and clueless) that she
agrees to go home with a guy we all know is gay?”
Setoodeh received extreme backlash for his
suggestion that Hayes was unable to successfully portray a straight character
because of his sexuality. But what Setoodeh touched on is a very real problem
for LGBTQ actors, gay men in particular.
Perhaps the only actor to really break out against
this is Neil Patrick Harris, who just ended a nine year run as the very
straight Barney Stinson in How I Met Your
Mother. In truth, Harris undoubtedly had the luxury of already being an
established television star through Doogie
Howser, M.D. and the beginning of HIMYM
before he publically came out, though no one questioned his ability to play
Barney after he went public.
Timing is an incredibly important aspect for actors
when they come out. Harris waited until he was already on a hit television
show. George Takei waited long after his successful stint on Star Trek to
publically come out. Controversially, after a slew of romantic comedy box
office gems, Rupert Everett came out and simultaneously argued that gay actors
should stay in the closest because “the fact is…that you could not be, and
still cannot be, a 25-year-old homosexual trying to make it in the film
business.” Even with Harris’ success in HIMYM,
one has to wonder, due to the sitcom’s broad comedy, if part of the humor
of Barney’s emphatic bro-chismo is that we all know the truth about the person
saying the lines.
The flip side of this, of course, is that our
society has no issue with straight actors portraying LGTBQ characters. In fact,
when they do, many of them are nominated for Oscars (see: Jared Leto, Sean
Penn, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Heath Ledger & Jake Gyllenhall, Colin Firth,
Christopher Plummer, Greg Kinnear, and Tom Hanks, to name a few). Portraying
gay characters is often seen as a worthy challenge for any actor or actress.
How in the world is this any different than a gay
actor portraying a straight character? How is it that we can ignore the private
lives of straight actors, but not gay ones?
I hate to be pessimistic, but as NPH opens Hedwig and the Angry Inch on Broadway, I’m
curious to see how many more Barney Stinson-like characters he can land
afterwards. I want to believe that “it does get better,” but it can’t only be
for people who don’t lead public lives.
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