August 21st, 2004

Atacama

It's not just the aspect ratio that's wrong here



This still is from Maurice, also known as That Gay-Ass Merchant-Ivory Film.

In it, an upper-middle-class twit named Maurice goes to university and falls in love with an upper-class dork played by Hugh Grant. When an upper-upper-class classmate of their is busted for soliciting sex from a soldier, Hugh understandably freaks out and gets himself a wife as quickly as possible. Hey, it's 1911, and it's probably the best solution at the time for him.

Anyhow, a lot of weird boring stuff happens. Ben Kingsley cameos as an American hypnotherapist who thinks that describing women as having "attractive hair" will cure homosexuality. Surprisingly, it doesn't work on Maurice, who instead starts crying and talking about his Mom. Ewwww. Anyhow, eventually Maurice winds up snogging the lower-class gamekeeper on Hugh's estate [you know he's lower-class as his accent is furthest away from RP in this flick], and they live happily ever after.

My problem with this movie is simple: If Maurice is really Mr. Transgressive Sexual Outlaw as Forster-Merchant-Ivory would like to have you believe, surely he wouldn't go for some pathetic white guy who looks pretty much just like every gay American's ideal Englishman - you know: ambiguously gay, luxuriant tresses, dodgy teeth, tastefully small, uncircumcised cock. Surely he'd go for a rough-and-tumble, burly, bearded guy... like the man you see above throwing a googly. Right?

This scene is 1 hour 45 minutes into the movie. It's also the scene that made me wonder why the hell I hadn't turned it off at least an hour earlier: what's the point of watching this dreck unless Maurice actually does something radical, like sleep with somebody who doesn't look like him?

I suppose it's just that sleeping outside your class is sufficiently radical for the English. Wankers.