Site Presented By
Tuesday, Nov 24, 2009
The British version is sexy, as it should be, but the U.S. version is immature and not even hot.
Jan 10, 2001 | Call me old-fashioned, but I've always tried to infuse my anonymous sexual encounters -- whether in bathhouses, backrooms, bushes or bedrooms -- with dollops of genuine intimacy and connection and warmth. That may sound odd to those who haven't had a lot of sex with strangers. And there's no point pretending that last night's random trick will end up being my best friend or the love of my life. I may not even know his name, or don't particularly want to, or find it out only after the deed is done
But something interesting can happen when you hook up with an unfamiliar guy. You can be anyone to him, and he to you, and when the setting's right the sweat and spunk and twisting limbs forge a brief but tender bond between you. That's why my acts of nonlove sex have, at their best, been far more affectionate and just plain fun than the joyless, mechanical groping and grinding depicted in cable's new gay fuck-fest, "Queer as Folk," which debuted Dec. 3 and will run for several more months.
As everybody and his manicurist knows by now, this highly promoted, explicitly sexual series -- Showtime's naked attempt to outdo HBO's sassy, entertaining "Sex and the City" -- is cloned from a British series of the same name that caused a sensation when first broadcast two years ago. That version (let's call it QAF-B and the American one QAF-A) grabbed headlines with its unapologetic portrayal of the lives of several gay men in working-class Manchester, sex, warts and all. The American producers have transplanted the story to Pittsburgh, fiddled with a few of the plot particulars and created a product so inferior to the original that it boggles the mind. The differences between them scream volumes about our society's peculiar approach to sexual issues and how that's reflected in our cultural products.
And that's not even addressing the aesthetic question of why it's necessary to create an American version of an already terrific work. But then I guess it's true that the British are kind of too snooty and sophisticated, and anyway it's real hard to understand those funny accents. And that show did depict a rabid affair between a 29-year-old and a 15-year-old, so it's probably better that the Americans decided to age the youngster by a couple of years to protect viewers of delicate constitution and sensibility.
The British version has recently become available on video -- although it's so popular that I had to wait a couple of weeks before I could find it on the shelves. And the bottom line is that it's, well, sexy, as it's meant to be. The American version -- despite the arty frames of undulating body parts, the glossy close-ups, the blue disco strobe lights bathing bare-chested dancers, the quick cuts and the slow-mo sequences, the shadowed faces gasping in ecstasy -- is definitely not.
Let me be clear: I love watching gay men grapple graphically with each other on-screen, large or small, and I love that straight America is watching it. So do most of my gay friends. Given all the heterosex that's been flung in our fag faces through the years, we're about due for equal time in a mainstream, non-porno medium. Sure, it's lovely to have Will and Ellen and other antiseptic homos popping up now and then, but I appreciate the impulse behind QAF-A's down-and-dirty fumblings.
Good intentions alone, however, do not a great queer series make.
