November Son (2008) - 2.5/4

What filmmakers and writers often forget is the full implications of what they do when they tell any story. The reason a film like Once Upon a Time in the West has the epic power it has is because of the unique properties of storytelling, which creates a whole universe out of a very exclusive collection of people, places, and things. Just try to imagine the events of Once Upon a Time in the West as having taken place in this world. What does Harmonica's fate really matter? Or Frank's, for that matter? In the grand scheme of things, these people would not even register as blips on history's radar. The story, though, carves out a universe where these two people attain mythic proportions. They are mythologized. They are not so much actively mythologized as necessarily mythologized as a consequence of creating a universe that is viewed almost exclusively under the significance of the actions of these characters. There is nothing inherently important about Harmonica; but the film's universe is carved out in such a way that he is a central player in the rightful order of that whole universe. His killing Frank is the triumph of right, progress, justice, freedom over chaotic opportunism, or evil, if you will. In real life, we never individually have that sort of significance in the universe. Except perhaps for Caesar, Napoleon, or, alas, Hitler, almost nobody has ever had that level of significance in the real world. Yet even our mundane lives, carved out by a skilled filmmaker, could become somehow epic and our actions could appear to hold grand significance for the fate of the universe. If you don't believe me, read James Joyce's Ulysses or Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway.

I brought up this issue of the power of storytelling, especially cinematic storytelling has in order to address what I find so strange about November Son. The universe as it is represented in November Son revolves entirely around the implications of homosexual men. They are the Chosen Ones, the demigods upon whom the fate of all things rests, as construed by writer-director Jason Paul Collum. The film's characters include a young gay man, Eli (Sacha Sacket), who moves into the apartment of a woman, Marti (Tina Ona Paukstelis), who only rents her apartment out to gay men, because she's a 'fruitfly', which I believe is a woman who is attracted to gay men. The previous tenant, naturally, was also gay; he dies in the first few minutes of the film. Eli's homophobic father may or may not be gay and begins dating the previous tenant's mother (Brinke Stevens), who also claims to be attracted to gay men and admits her previous 'boyfriend' was gay. Eli gets a job as a photographer for a Christian lifestyle magazine, where the boss, Emily (Night of the Living Dead's Judith O'Dea), takes a shine to him as he reminds her of her deceased son, who was gay. Also, her husband was gay. There are a few other characters and, as you might imagine, all of their lives revolved around gay men.

Now were this film an erotic drama set in a gay community of some sort, then the fact that male homosexuality is the center of this universe wouldn't be so remarkable. However, this film is a thriller set in a normal community amongst Christian families. Yet every male seems to be gay, every female obsessed with gay males. The whole town is obsessed with homosexuals, as the passengers in random cars driving by Eli on bicycle, people who could not possibly know he is homosexual, throw cans at him. There are anti-gay signs around. This has a very peculiar effect. For one, it's ridiculous. Every time a new character mentions another gay person in his or her life, it became increasingly difficult to stifle a chuckle. But it also has a nightmarish aspect that undercuts what I believe to be the attempt at an anti-homophobia statement. There are even some cracks at George W. Bush. But rather than showing homophobia is a harmful attitude, it almost justifies homophobia in the face of a world that is torn asunder by the overwhelming majority of gay males and gay-obsessed straights. Despite that, it is fascinating and I must say rather entertaining. Internet Movie Database lists November Son as a comedy as well as a horror, so perhaps the everybody-is-gay mentalty is intended to be slyly humourous. If so, well done Collum.

So how does November Son work as a thriller? Well, the dynamic I've described above occupies the first hour and nine minutes of the hour and forty-four minute film. It consists of these various characters having one-on-one conversations about their lives and, most of all, about gayness and gay people. Emily in particular keeps confiding things in Eli and one wonders, "Why?" He doesn't need to know anything about her to work at her magazine. A character-driven thriller is great, but this is more of character-leisurely-strolled thriller. One doesn't even get any trace of a plot until that hour-and-nine-minute mark, when someone receives a hammer blow to the head at last. Moreover, the character motivations are often quite vague.

It all does ultimately tie up neatly and the build-up is to some extent justified and indeed explained by the finale. Once that thriller plot kicks in, there is one beautiful scene the horror fan can enjoy. Legendary scream queen Brinke Stevens, after an attempted assault, takes a stroll by a lake to wind down and spots a coffin beached on the shore. I won't spoil the scene, but it's a flicker of nightmare flavour in an otherwise plain but sometimes-touching gay melodrama.

On a trivial point, the interior decorators out there may enjoy the real houses in which the film is shot. They stood out for me, for whatever reason. Most films are shot on sets that are much larger than the rooms in real houses in order to accommodate film crews. Not November Son.