From Queer Cinema to Queer Theater: Some Like it Hot takes Broadway

A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of seeing Some Like it Hot on Broadway. Let me begin this review by getting the technicals out of the way. If you're the gambling sort, you're going to want to put your money right here for the Tonys. While still in previews, not a single cast member missed a beat, a note, or a step. It has been some time since I have seen such a seamless live production. Some Like it Hot didn't come to play, it came to win. With 42nd Street flare and a Kinky Boots sensibility, Some Like it Hot brings us right back to the joyous, glamorous excitement of the Golden Age of Musical Theatre with a thoroughly contemporary sense of presence. This musical is a love letter to the glitzy showstopper that does not feel dated. This is particularly noteworthy as the show emulates the comedic timing of its original 50s film counterpart in parts. To not feel dated with all of these particulars is a sign of skill on the part of the writers and director.

The sets? Gorgeous. The costumes? I want to wear all of them. The quality of the singing, dancing, acting? Top shelf. If the show has a weakness, it may be that the songs are not particularly memorable, but when you're in the moment, they're a wallop of good fun and high energy to keep the momentum going. This is a musical where the songs serve the story, not the reverse.

Now that we've gone through the technicals, let's talk about the real elephant in the room: the criticisms and concerns in adapting this particular movie in 2022.

I have seen many reviews so far (here's a link to one in particular) that are very concerned with clarifying for their readers that the musical is a fresh new take on a problematic classic, and that they are doing their own thing that is different (read: better). This comes on the heels of major anti-trans activity across the world, and with the genuine concerns about producing yet another man-in-a-dress comedy (Mrs. Doubtfire being the previous questionable choice) while the queer community is actively trying to combat this particular conservative scaremongering tactic. It is understandable to be concerned, but unwarranted in this case. To say that this new musical is doing something completely different and fresh with source material that should have been kept on the shelf is unfair assessment that both undersells the quality of this particular adaptation and completely misunderstands the original film–a film which was itself radically queer in 1959.

So let's actually talk about Some Like it Hot, the Billy Wilder film. Spoiler warning from this point forward, because we're going to get into it.

Some Like it Hot has often been credited as being the nail in the coffin for the Hayes Code, a set of deeply conservative industry guidelines in place from 1934 - 1968. The Code prevented films from portraying a wide variety of presumed illicit content, such as: drug use, swearing, interracial couples, "white slavery" (but notably not Black slavery), female sexuality and homosexual content. In 1952, the Supreme Court overruled the Hayes Code and removed its legal backing; but in 1959, Some Like it Hot became a box office hit without the Hayes Code seal of approval, and the Code breathed its last dying breath. 

So what makes Some Like it Hot so special? For one, Marilyn Monroe (along with the other girls in the band) are living showgirls who drink, smoke, show off some leg and have sexual appetites. More importantly for this conversation though, Some Like it Hot tangoes with homosexuality and gender diversity with such a thin veil of propriety that it may as well be a cut scene to a train going through a tunnel. I won't go into a full analysis of the queerness of this film here (watch this space for a future blog post that will do just that), but it is important to know that Some Like it Hot is an important work in the queer cinema canon, even though (as far as we know) everyone involved in the making was straight and cis. 

But why is this? Why is this film NOT actually a standard man-in-a-dress comedy, even though it is a major landmark in that particular genre? 

The big concern with man-in-a-dress comedies is that they are very often based on the premise that, in order to win the girl, these men need to deceive women by pretending to be a woman, thus gaining their trust through deceit. In the end, they always defrock and return to their masculine lives. This is the dangerous premise that fires up anti-trans scaremongering. Mrs. Doubtfire, while a classic film starring a beloved actor, is a prime example of this premise. You could also look to films like Silence of the Lambs or Psycho, in which the trope is then "man dresses as a woman for the purpose of doing harm or enacting a patriarchal victory." These are dangerous stories that do more harm than good in 2022. 

Neither of these are the premise of Some Like it Hot. 

Rather than being a "man dresses up as a woman to get the girl" story, Some Like it Hot is a situational comedy in which two men end up in unusual circumstances to save their own skins (dressing as women to escape the mob), and come out the other end as fundamentally different people. The man-in-a-dress aspect of this premise is a catalyst towards that change (not dissimilar to the premise of Kinky Boots), rather than a tool towards victory. In the case of Joe/Josephine (played by Tony Curtis in the film and by Christian Borle in the musical), the romance with Sugar (Marilyn Monroe/Adrianna Hicks) isn't fostered or encouraged by the lie of being Josephine but hindered by it, and most of his flirting is done in a secondary male disguise as Junior, the millionaire heir to Shell Oil. Josephine is not after Sugar, and Sugar isn't fooled into loving Josephine, but Junior. By the end of the story, Joe realizes that he's been a scoundrel, and thinks Sugar deserves better than him. 

I know what you're thinking. How is that substantially different? How does that make Some Like it Hot a queer film? The answer is...it doesn't. If Some Like it Hot were just about Joe then it would belong on the shelf with the rest, even if drag-aspect isn't in itself the manipulative act. Joe isn't the star of this film, and neither is Marilyn Monroe. The star of this film is Jack Lemmon as Jerry/Daphne (played by the magnificent J. Harrison Ghee in the musical). In the film, Jerry does actually start off as a presumed-straight man ogling and attempting to seduce the women with whom he suddenly has access (an element of the character that the musical wisely omits). It is midway through the film when all of this changes. When Jerry (dressed as Daphne) himself begins to catch the interest of another man, Jerry and Daphne begin to bleed together. Through a series of deeply queer encounters with Osgood, Jerry's previous bad behaviour becomes itself a farce through the actualization of Daphne. Jerry's sexuality and his gender identity are thrown into question. This Twelfth-Night-esque escapade of gender confusion and sexuality awareness is what makes Some Like it Hot a foundational queer film, and what threw the Hayes Code under the bus. It is Jerry/Daphne and Osgood who keep this film fresh and the subject relevant. Some Like it Hot is, at its core, a comedy about change and becoming a better version of yourself.

But you didn't come here for a history lesson about Some Like it Hot, you came here for a review of the new musical, so let's come back around to adaptation, and the brilliance of this one. 

Adaptation is a difficult business. When you make an adaptation, you at once need to both be referential to the original source material and make it uniquely yours. Adaptations that stray too far away from the original source material will attract the ire of fans and will very often (though not always) miss the elements that make the original great in the first place. Adaptations that stick too close to the original either suffer from not adjusting to their new medium (a film and a book do not tell stories in the same way) or fail to stand out as significant works of art in their own right. The reason I take issue with the critique that this new Some Like it Hot musical is a completely new take on a classic is because that statement is a disservice to the skill behind this adaptation. 

I was excited when I sat down in the theater, but also quite nervous. I love Some Like it Hot, and there is very little that I would change about it. I was worried that this musical wouldn't live up to its source material. My worries were unfounded, and I walked out of the theater grinning from ear to ear, buzzing to see it again. What makes this adaptation sing is that it has masterfully balanced being the same story, but making it unique and fresh for a 2022 audience. It is truly an update that gives the story more depth. One of the greatest sins of adaptation is, in my opinion, the red pen. It is infinitely tempting to correct, edit, and change the things you don't like about a story to make it fit your vision of how the story should be. While there were a few corrections (such as dropping Jerry's hound dog approach in the first half of the story), I don't believe that the creators of this musical took a red pen to the story. Rather, I would say that they took a "Yes, And" approach. Every change that was made to the story served to give the characters more depth rather than change the characters themselves. Yes, this is the character, And here's a little bit more to make them richer for it. 

Making Daphne/Jerry and Sugar Black instead of white added depth to their circumstances and was a logical refresh to add diversity to a story about jazz musicians. More depth was added to Sugar's story by giving her a Hollywood dream, which brought some justice to Marilyn Monroe's part in the role (Marilyn notably fought back against being just a dumb blonde as Sugar). Making Junior a scriptwriter instead of a random millionaire contributed to this narrative rather than being a somewhat random aside. Every change and addition streamlined the story for the stage and made each character more three-dimensional in the process. To both streamline and add padding is no easy feat, and should be applauded. 

In an interview, Christian Borle said their version of Some Like it Hot is still the same story, to which J. Harrison Ghee followed up that it was also uniquely their version of it. Both of these sentiments are true, and that is a difficult thing to achieve. The fact that this balance has been struck makes it a masterwork of adaptation.

Moreover, J. Harrison Ghee's performance is spectacular as Jerry/Daphne. The most substantial refresh to the story is to have this character unabashedly and clearly accept their gender fluidity with a showstopper song and a cheering ovation. When the New Yorker reviewed this show, they referred to this change as "splic[ing] old-school fun with contemporary gender politics". Aside from the somewhat patronizing and obviously click-baity nature of that description (which drew the expected ire from commenters on Twitter), it also is fundamentally untrue. There is nothing uniquely contemporary about Some Like it Hot's gender politics, because Daphne's queerness is intrinsic to the source material. It wasn't created for the musical. What is contemporary and fresh in this case is that we now have the language to express said gender politics with dignity and respect. What this new Some Like it Hot has done is take an already (some might say quietly) queer work that toyed with gender in 1959 and say the quiet part out loud. This is the finest example of a “Yes, And” approach that the musical has to offer. Yes, this is exactly who Jerry/Daphne always was, And now we're going to make that explicitly clear. 

This is the Jerry/Daphne that queer viewers of the original film have always loved, now brought to life. I cannot express how grateful I am for the fun and joy in J. Harrison Ghee’s performance. Ghee’s Daphne is genuine and real without losing a single beat of comedic timing. Daphne is the breath of fresh air that we need in this horrible year where we as trans people have been put under constant surveillance​​. Some Like it Hot allows us to have fun, and we so desperately need it. 

Billy Wilder said that 1959 wasn't ready for what happens after the ending, but 2022 is. In 1959, both Jack Lemmon and Joe E. Brown portrayed Daphne and Osgood’s relationship as something fundamentally positive, both playful and sexy. In 2022, we can take what we already had in 1959 to its logical conclusion, and finally allow Daphne that security she wanted so damn badly. 

I always think about this movie in terms of its ending. It has the perfect ending, no other movie can compare. Still, I always thought that in a modernization, the only thing to change is for Osgood, instead of delivering a punchline, to just say "you're perfect". The ending of this show is different, and it's not the exact same scene-by-scene play-by-play story, but it is perfect. You really are perfect.

Rings of Power's Elephant in the Room: The Problems in Adapting Celebrimbor and Sauron's Relationship

WARNING: This blog post is going to spoil Rings of Power for you if you are not already aware of the major reveal of the Second Age. Please turn away if you do not want to be thoroughly spoiled.

    With Rings of Power dropping in less than a month, the question "what will they do with Sauron" gathers more and more energy. If their marketing team is smart, we haven't seen Sauron yet. If they're really clever, they will leave us hanging until the last possible moment to build that suspense. With the question of Sauron also comes the question of Celebrimbor, of whom we have received a lot more information. To Celebrimbor and his fate, Sauron is inexorably tied. What I hope to do here is look at the possible options for how they are going to approach Sauron and Celebrimbor's relationship. I will try to approach this with as much reserved judgement as possible, so if you're interested in my multitude of judgy opinions on both Sauron, Celebrimbor, and Rings of Power in general (both positive and negative), I direct you to my twitter.

Art by Bohemian Weasel

    According to text, Sauron came to Eregion in his fairest form, and worked his powers (powers that we can imply are those of manipulation and seduction as per the power of the Ring, and the mode in which he speaks) upon the Elves of Eregion to teach them ringcraft. Chief among these smiths is Celebrimbor, who learned the skill from Sauron directly, and was instrumental in the forging of the Rings of Power. The same Rings of Power that the show is named for. Celebrimbor is taken in by Sauron's manipulations, but upon realizing that he's been had, rebels and is murdered brutally. 

    This relationship can be interpreted in a number of ways but has been interpreted in fandom through a homoerotic lens. This is due to two factors. First, there is Tolkien's specificity that Sauron, prior to the sinking of Númenor into the sea, maintained beautiful form. Second, there is the extrapolation of seduction, first from Melkor's own seduction of Sauron, and of both Sauron and the Ring's history of manipulations that can be interpreted as a form of lust. While Tolkien did specify in The Unfinished Tales that Celebrimbor was not corrupted in heart or faith, the nature of this manipulated relationship has been interpreted and extrapolated quite thoroughly through a multitude of fanworks.

What we do have, and what needs to be adapted to screen, is the following: Sauron, in beautiful form, comes to Eregion and, through kindly manipulation, convinces Celebrimbor to unwittingly participate in Sauron's domination of Middle-earth.

    Whether or not Tolkien intended to give Sauron and Celebrimbor homoerotic subtext is irrelevant in this context. What we are talking about here is how we interpret the visual language of adaptation. The way that we as viewers interact with television in the 21st century is miles away from how we interact with literature now, much less how we interacted with literature in the mid-20th. If you put this relationship dynamic on screen, there will be homoerotic subtext whether the author or the creators of the show intend it or not. This is due in part to the rigid gender and sexuality lines that we have drawn between the First World War and today (we are far less ambiguous and far more concerned with placing people and relationships into these boxes) and is partly due to the prevalence of fan thirst on social media. This relationship as described by Tolkien will read as homoerotic to some extent, no matter what the creators decide to do. The question is: what will the showrunners do with this inevitability?

    We could say that the creators of the show aren't even considering this question, but I find that highly unlikely, if not somewhat naive. Showrunners have shown time and time again that they are aware of fandom (one only needs to look as far as the convention circuit to see this in practice) and it is well understood that often showrunners will pander to this fan interest without directly addressing it in their work. So what are the options? The way I see it, there are four possible scenarios.

art by Mallorn Blossom

1. Implied Homoerotic Subtext

    This is the most common option and the one that falls into the queerbaiting category. With this option, they would write in, direct, and edit to have the relationship be flirtatious, lean heavily on the implication, but never commit to the bit. This is classic queerbaiting, because it draws in the very statistically relevant audience (fandom) that eats gay content up. It would feed the fandom machine, but also satisfy those who would take offence for one reason or another because no canon is made and it is left to the imagination. This would also be very easy, as sticking to Tolkien's text as closely as possible will, by default, give you this option to a 21st-century audience.

2. Committing to the Bit

    In 2011, NBC greenlit Hannibal, a show based loosely on Red Dragon and the rest of the Hannibal Lecter series. Since the show's airing, both showrunner and cast have confirmed on multiple occasions that they turned the story into a twisted romance. What began as implied homoerotic subtext culminated in the clear statement that Hannibal was in love with Will Graham. This is what we can call committing to the bit. A showrunner saw homoerotic subtext and said 'we can lean into this and make it text'. This is option two for Rings of Power.

    While I find this to be the most unlikely option in this case, it is still possible. We've already seen the willingness to make bold choices with regards to casting people of colour in Middle-earth, and making sure that choice is all over their advertising.(1) Committing to the bit with Sauron and Celebrimbor would also be a bold choice which would cause a media frenzy. Controversial media generates clicks and watches, while also giving the illusion of representation. I say the illusion of representation because, much like with casting, representation only really counts as representation when there are numbers behind it. If they committed to this bit without putting other queer relationships into the story, then Sauron as the only queer character is not great. I personally love queer villains. Queer villains are usually my favourite characters, and we as queer people deserve varied stories and characters who contain multitudes, but a queer villain among a sea of heteronormativity does not representation make. This option would also not be a far stretch from canon, but rather would be a reasonable leap to make, which adaptation regularly does for the purposes of visual storytelling. It would also not infuriate homophobic viewers as strongly as, say, giving Elrond a male love interest would because it would fit well with their world view of queerness as a seduction to villainy. So again, not great.

    So far, the options are that the creators can do almost nothing to the text and bank on implication, or the creators can lean in and make this relationship canonically romantic and/or sexual. Neither of these options is actually great. Option one is lazy, tired writing, which would be called out immediately. Option two is bold, but would cause chaos while also ascribing to its own tired trope of the devious queer seducer who destroys upstanding, respectable men. If there are no other queer relationships in the show, both of these problems become even worse. Option one seems more like bait without any alternatives, and Option two then turns into a story where all of your queer characters are villains, failures and tragedies.

    That all being said, Options 1 and 2 are the most authentic to the text as read by a 21st-century reader. I say this not as a reflection of authorial intent, because authorial intent is irrelevant in regards to reader/viewer reception of text as written. Rather, these are the most authentic to the text because Sauron fits perfectly into the mould of the Queer Villain trope, as seduction is inherent to his character and is impossible to avoid in visual media, which relies far less on imagination, and has a well-defined history of using this trope. If you keep Sauron as a canonical devious seducer who brings about the fall of men and elves through this interpersonal seduction, you have options one or two no matter what.

We have looked at doing nothing and leaning in, but what about leaning out?

3. No Homo

    Leaning out and avoiding the situation entirely would be the least authentic to the text, as it would remove seduction as one of Sauron's primary tools in the Second Age (a characteristic that comes down to him in a direct line from Melkor in the First Age, who did the same to him). This would require Sauron's machismo to be emphasized over his seductive qualities, even though these are qualities that are only brought to the forefront after the fall of Númenor, when Sauron has lost his fair form into the sea and returns monstrous. Option three is the safest option, even though it is the least authentic to the text. You avoid the 'damned if you do, damned if you don't big queer elephant in the room. Instead, you undermine the integrity of the characters themselves, as both Celebrimbor and Pharazôn's fall depends on Sauron's seductive qualities to be successful. So this is also not a great option. You could also, under this category, have Sauron be a seducer and have Celebrimbor outright reject those advances, but that again undermines the text as written for the purposes of a 21st-century statement, and also draws attention to hard lines of sexuality which Tolkien did not draw, because they were not discussed as they are discussed now and were more ambiguous.

So we have: do nothing, lean in, or lean out. The fourth option is the most interesting and would solve a lot of the above problems, but would also be the riskiest in today's real-world climate.

4. Gender Trouble

Quick speculation misidentified the above actress Bridie Sisson as Sauron, 

which has lead to some interesting speculation.

    Canonically, Sauron is a skin-changer. In Beren and Luthien alone, he turns into a wolf, a serpent, a monster, a vampire bat, and his own form again. He can, by Tolkien's own words, assume many forms. We also know that Ainur in general wear skin as clothing rather than having their bodies be inherent to their identity. It is feasible that Sauron could present as a different gender to every person that he meets. This would be interesting storytelling. First, it would create a sense of paranoia, because if we know right away that Sauron could look like anyone, then he could be watching at any time. He may be in the frame right now, and you just don't know. Second, it would be an unusual but not an inaccurate interpretation of the text, as we know this is something Sauron is absolutely capable of, at the very least before he loses his fair form.(2) What this would also do is find a middle ground for the left and right. The left would have a genderfluid Sauron and the knowledge that Sauron's pronouns are he/him as per the text, regardless of what form he takes. The right could then get a female-bodied Sauron engaging in the seduction of Celebrimbor, releasing that tension of anxiety in ways they would approve of.

    But this is also not without flaws. Firstly, genderswapping a generally-presumed male character in order to avoid homoerotic tension is very obvious when it happens. Just because the character is then technically queer in the gender does not mean viewers familiar with this technique cannot see what the intention is, or why you're doing it. That weakens the action by means of intention. Second, we live in a world where trans people are subject to violence on a daily basis. Making your villain trans, especially right now, is extremely distasteful and dangerous, especially with one of the most well-known villains in literary history, and especially without any positive alternative in the text. Remember, representation is made by numbers and variety.

    As far as I see it, these are the four options they have. do nothing, lean in, lean out, or get creative. There are positives to all of these options, but none of them is a great option. The writers are stuck between a rock and a hard place, one in which no one will be satisfied no matter how they approach this issue. I hope they can come up with a fifth option that I haven't, but that is yet to be seen.

(1) this is by no means to say that, in 2022, having a cast that isn't entirely white is bold, but rather to say that, given the state of Tolkien Fandom as we have seen from the backlash, the choice was bold in the context of mainstream Tolkien media.

(2) This only becomes less accurate if we consider the idea that they are stuck more in their form the more they engage in acts of the body (as per NoME), but then we would still need to think about Sauron as a sexual being and so becoming stuck in his body.