No, pervs, this is not a story of me in an omnisexual pangasmic party, but read it anyway. Somehow, be it timing or fate or just dumb luck, Shortbus never graced my eyes. Which is unfortunate as someone that appreciates the stylings of John Cameron Mitchell, but isn't one of those JCM slaves that you will from time to time see at the occasional party or East Village bar. Sure, he's a friend of a friend or friend of a friend of a friend, but so is Kevin Bacon; it's a small town.
But on the theme of friends of friends, two months back a couple of friends invited me out for no other reason than to see a friend of theirs perform at Pete's Candy Bar. And when you go to the show of a friend of a friend there's always the "OhGodPleaseLetThisNotSuck" brain refrain. So there we are in the packed room and Scott Matthew takes the stage. A tall, beardy, and sort of angelic creature starts to sing and play guitar and there I am, saucer-eyed, spell-bound. Needless to say afterwards, my fist is in my friends chest pounding playfully, "You're supposed to tell me about awesome things, fool."
Fast forward to the past weekend, and an advance copy of the DVD is on the coffee table. Still sick like an ought-to-be-slaughtered animal, in goes the disc and on screen is the movie. To provide a synopsis is an insult to the movie, as it is so much more than a mere literal story. It's a memory poem, a love lyric, and a reminder of a few things.
- A little bit of freedom goes a long way.
- Sometimes we overthink everything.
- Love is textured and multifaceted.
- New York is magic.
- We're all pretty good people, in the end.
It wasn't a weakened state, or a sentimental moment, but by the end there were tears. Of joy and hope and thrill. (And a little of "Why do I have to be sick and watching this alone? This is bullshit!")
Anyway, without getting ranty, Shortbus is lovely. The DVD
with great commentary and fun deleted scenes is out today. And the soundtrack
is quite lovely as well.