When Finnish-British filmmaker Mikko Mäkelä’s film “Sebastian” premiered at the 2024 Sundance Festival, he told Variety he wanted his movie to provide a “frank and honest portrayal of queer sexuality.” That’s surely enough to lure queer audiences – particularly gay male audiences, thanks to its gay male protagonist – with the promise of steamy onscreen sex, and his movie, now available on VOD platforms after a limited theatrical release, certainly delivers on it. 

That, however, is only half (perhaps less) of what it’s all about, because, like its title character, it lives in two worlds at once.

In fact, “Sebastian” isn’t even his real name. He’s actually Max (Ruaridh Mollica), an aspiring writer who works a “survival job” at a literary magazine while working on his first novel – a “pseudo-memoir” chronicling a gay sex worker’s encounters with various clients. It’s not exactly “pseudo,” though; the experiences he writes about are real, gained by advertising himself on a website for gay escorts to obtain “research” for his book. The results are getting him noticed, and a publisher (Leanne Best) is interested in the completed manuscript – but he finds his focus being pulled away from his “real” life and deeper into the anonymous thrill of exploring his own sexuality in the safety of an assumed identity.

It’s not just his work that’s affected; among the other things that begin to suffer from his growing obsession are his relationships: with his co-worker and bestie, fellow aspiring writer Amna (Hiftu Quasem); with his conservative mother back in Edinburgh, who already disapproves of his lifestyle in faraway, hedonistic London; and to a much older client (Jonathan Hyde) with whom “Sebastian” has developed an unexpected emotional attachment. Most of all, it’s his own sense of identity that is caught in the conflict, as he tries to keep both sides of his double life together while preventing his whole world from falling apart.

It’s a story with a lot of irons on the fire – a quality it seems to share with the novel its protagonist is writing, much to the irritation of his would-be publisher. What begins as the saga of a fledgling male escort – we first meet Max during his first booking as “Sebastian,” after all, suggesting almost from the start that it is this persona that is our true protagonist – soon shifts into that of an ambitious-but-frustrated young author attempting to fuel his creativity through lived experience, laced with the ongoing thread of his own sexual awakening and self-acceptance. It even makes overtures toward an unexpected (and unorthodox) love story, before venturing down a darker path to become something of a cautionary tale, a warning against the dangers of leading a compartmentalized existence and allowing the gratification of one’s personal appetites to overshadow all the other facets of our lives. Along the way, it throws in some commentary about the tense dynamic between creative expression and commercialism in the arts, not to mention the reinforcement of stigma and negative attitudes around sex workers – and sex in general – through the perceptions and representations created by social traditions and popular culture.

This latter perspective might be the key to what is really at the heart of “Sebastian” all along, toward which Mäkelä’s screenplay hints with a description of Max’s work-in-progress as being about “the shame of being ashamed.” From the beginning, it is his own fear of being found out that becomes his greatest obstacle; far more than his reluctance to cross lines he’s been raised to respect, it’s the dread of having his reputation and his prospects shattered that causes him to waver in his path – and that feeling is not unfounded, which is in itself a telling indicator that the power of social judgment is a very real force when it comes to living our authentic lives. Indeed, his personal taboos are quick to fall away as he pursues his undercover “research”, but the guilt he feels about being caught in a social position perceived as “beneath” his own is something he cannot shrug off so easily. With so many generations of religious and societal dogma behind them, such imperatives are hard to ignore.

Yet, there’s yet another aspect of “Sebastian” to discuss, that, while it is self-evident in the very premise of Mäkelä’s movie, might be easy to overlook in the midst of all these other themes. A story about someone pretending to be someone else is inherently about deception, and Max, regardless of his motives, is a deceiver. He deceives his clients to obtain the material for his writing, and he deceives his employers and his publisher about where he gets it; he deceives the people closest to him, he deceives potential romantic partners – but more than anyone else, he deceives himself.

It’s only by becoming honest with oneself, of course, that one can truly find a way to reconcile the opposing sides of our own nature, and that is the challenge “Sebastian” sets up for its protagonist, no matter which name he is going by in the moment. Whether or not he meets it is something we won’t spoil, but we’ll go as far as saying that a breakthrough comes only when Max is forced by circumstance to follow his instincts and “get honest” with someone – though we won’t tell you who.

In the end, “Sebastian” satisfies as a character study, and as a journey of self-acceptance, largely thanks to a charismatic, layered, thoroughly authentic performance from Mollica, a Scots-Italian actor of tremendous range who convincingly captures both sides of Max’s persona and transcends them to create a character that incorporates each into a relatable – if not always entirely likable – whole. Mäkelä’s steady, clear-eyed direction helps, as does the equally dignified and vulnerable performance from veteran character actor Hyde, whose chemistry with Mollica is as surprising as the relationship they portray in the film.

Even so, “Sebastian” suffers from the many balls it attempts to keep in the air. Though it aims for sex-positive messaging and an empathetic view of sex work, it often devolves into the kind of dramatic tropes that perpetuate an opposite view, sending mixed messages about whether it’s trying to diffuse old stereotypes or simply reinvent them for a modern age of “digital hustlers.” Further, in its effort to offer an unfiltered presentation of queer sexuality, it spends perhaps a bit more screen time than necessary showing it to us as explicitly as possible while omitting all but a glimpse of full-frontal nudity, but just enough to conjure the word “gratuitous.”

Don’t get us wrong, though; Mäkelä’s movie – only his second feature film effort to date – is an engaging, sexy, and ultimately thought-provoking ride, even if its tangled ambitions sometimes get the better of its narrative thrust, and it comes with our recommendation.

It’s just that, one of these days, we’d really like to see a movie where sex work is honestly portrayed as a job, just like any other – but I guess we’ll have to wait until society is ready for it before we get that one.

‘Low-Hanging Fruit’
By Randy Rainbow
c.2024, St. Martin’s Press
$28/224 pages

Whine, whine, whine.

You got something to say, say it. Got an opinion? The world is waiting. It doesn’t do any good to mutter, sputter, or whine when something’s bothering you. As in the new book, “Low-Hanging Fruit” by Randy Rainbow, take it to the complaint department.

Randy Rainbow has a lot to say, and he’s not afraid to say it.

For starters, he’s “resigning from trying to fix you, effective immediately.” Any boneheaded thing you want to do now, whatever. Nothing is his responsibility anymore. He has other issues to worry about.

“The truth is,” he says, “I have a lot of complaints about a lot of things.”

There are right ways of doing things, he says, and there are wrong ways and we just all really need to know the difference – especially if you’re a “Karen.” He’s compassionate if you were born with that name, but not too much.

“I’m a flamboyant homosexual who’s lived my entire life with the name Randy Rainbow, so you’ll get little sympathy from me in this department.”

Other than that, you may wonder what Rainbow’s (ahem) “position” is: he’s actually thinking about running for president as a member of “a Rainbow coalition…” He doesn’t have much experience but, he says, if there’s one thing we’ve learned in the past few years, that doesn’t matter at all. He stands on a green platform, but he can’t ban fluorocarbons because, you know, the hair thing and all.

Rainbow misses his 20s, old-school dating sites, hooking up, and his former attention span. He waxes nostalgic about the places he’s lived, including an apartment overlooking a “fruit market.” He wonders why teenagers are suddenly “successful lifestyle gurus.” He hates when “stars begin losing their luster” and he wishes again for actors like Hayworth and Garbo.

But, he says, “Diva-complaints aside… I really do thank God for all the opportunities I’m given.”

So the elephant in the room right now might be one you’ll (never?) vote for, but you know that author Randy Rainbow will reliably skewer that political animal online, hilariously. The fun-poking continues in the most deliciously snarky way in “Low-Hanging Fruit.”

And yet, that’s not the only subject Rainbow tackles. Readers who love catching his posts and videos are treated here to a random string of observations, opinions, and rants-not-rants, with the signature sassy style they’ve come to expect. What you’ll read can be spit-out-your-wine funny sometimes, and other times it touches a nerve with nods toward culture, new and old, that’ll make you nod with recognition. Nothing in Rainbow’s path goes without sharp-edged comment, which is exactly what you want from his books. Unexpectedly, this one also includes a soft word or two and a few slight confessions that are gentle and that might even make you say, “Awwwwww.”

If you’re ready for something snide and cynical that’ll make you laugh, something that you’ll want to read aloud to a companion, “Low-Hanging Fruit” is what you need. Look for this book now and you’ll have no complaints.

Forest green faux fur, rhinestones, a fabric-lined ceiling, planted faux flowers and green plastic grass adorn the inside of an anthropomorphized car named Mollie who spends her days riding off into the sunset on Sunset Blvd in West Hollywood and beyond. 

The driver of this 2008 Ford Escape, Caspian Larkins, 24 and a Cancer sign, moved to Los Angeles to pursue acting and through a series of humbling restaurant jobs and other side hustles, ended up driving for Uber. Though working for Uber was not on Larkins’ bingo card for 2021, they wanted to find a way to make the experience not only fun for themself, but also for the people who roll on Mollie. 

Larkins, who identifies as nonbinary and queer, grew up being one with nature in the wilderness of Oregon and when you step inside Mollie, it feels like a little magical, mystical slice of Oregonian forest–of course if it were reimagined on four wheels and zooming through traffic in Los Angeles. 

Forest green faux fur and a pink ruffle with a layer of tiny fabric roses, line the doors. Stickers on the sunroof and windows reflect rainbow hues across the white leather seats and passengers. (Photo credit Gisselle Palomera)

Going viral overnight doesn’t happen to just anyone, but this iconic duo now have thousands of followers on social media and have big plans for the future. 

ShaVonne Boggs, a content creator who hailed an Uber ride from Larkins, posted an Instagram reel of the ride and featured Larkins in all their fairy-core glory, driving through L.A traffic, with the viral Gwen Stefani ‘Just a Girl,’ audio clip playing over. 

“I went to bed that night with a couple hundred followers on my account and I woke up the next day and I had gained like 3,000 followers,” said Larkins. 

Larkins has a unique sense of style that incorporates nature, fashion and sustainability, often foraging for materials from the side of the road to add to the car and accepting donated fabrics from people who reach out to them through social media. 

“I’m a forager. What can I say?,” said Larkins and then jokingly added that Jeff Bezos also personally delivers some of the items they use to decorate Mollie. 

“I come across stuff on the street sometimes that I’ll pick up, put in my car and repurpose.” 

Larkins says that Mollie is a little bit dinged up and bruised up from the outside, but that it’s the inside that truly matters. 

There is a third character in this story that resides on the inside of the car at all times. 

Jack Aranda is the name of the guardian angel of this fairytale ride. It is a miniature rubber ducky that was given to Larkins by a spiritual witch that opted for an Uber drive, over a broom one night. 

“It was midnight, by Venice Beach and you know it was good vibes, but yea she gets in and we’re talking and she’s like ‘I’m going to give you this duck,’ and gives me this little tiny purple good luck duck,” said Larkins. “So I kept the good luck duck and I put him on my dashboard.”

Larkins says that ever since this encounter, the luck in their car changed. 

“Red lights will always turn green for me, and sometimes someone will run a red light and miss [hitting] me and I just think it’s divine intervention because of Jack.” 

Larkins poses in front of their car Mollie on a road in West Hollywood, CA. (Photo Credit Gisselle Palomera)

Larkins says that the decorated interior and its elements serves not only as a conversation starter, but also as a filter from unwanted conversations and painfully boring small talk. 

“I think that since I’ve decorated my car, it’s like my filter,” said Larkins. “The people who get in and are like, ‘Oh my god,’ those are my people and those are the ones that I’m there for. And the ones that get in and are silent, I just let them sit there and soak in the rainbows.” 

They say that there have been more good interactions, than bad ones and more people who ‘get it,’ than those who don’t. 

Anthropomorphizing cars is nothing new to pop culture. In fact, cars have almost always had names and it is almost a part of engrained American culture to assign personalities to them based on their cosmetic characteristics. 

The earliest examples on TV go as far back as the 1940s and some of the most memorable examples are Christine, the possessed, killer Camaro from Stephen King’s imaginative mind. 

Or Herbie, the 1963 Volkswagen Racing Beetle from the early cartoon TV show Herbie, the Love Bug.

In everyday routine, people spend so much time and energy on and around inanimate objects, that they sort of become meaningful elements who accompany us on our journeys from here to there–and back. 

“What I’m doing now with her is switching out different designs with the seasons,” said Larkins. 

Larkins drives around Los Angeles and West Hollywood, picking up and dropping off people from all walks of life. (Photo Credit Gisselle Palomera)

“So right now we have our spring/summer look and a lot of the things in there are removable, velcroed and stapled.” 

They say that right now they are exploring a very niche area of automotive interior design that they feel has not been explored within vehicles recently. 

“It’s just hard for other people to conceptualize it and what I often describe to people, comes off as very tacky and just kind of nasty– not demure, not cute.” 

Larkins feel they are really just now setting the stage for what’s possible, as far as interior customizations. 

“I want to start creating this world in which design plays a bigger role in what a car could be and the experience of just being transported,” said Larkins candidly. “I want to invite people into my little delusional fantasies.” 

Larkins believes that even in the present and near future of self-driving vehicles, they would like to collaborate with these major self-driving car companies and take part in designing and customizing the vehicles so that it can be a pleasurable and fun experience for riders who might feel anxiety about self-driving technology. 

The inside of Mollie is adorned from top to bottom and from left to right. (Photo Credit Gisselle Palomera)

Modifying and customizing cars has been a part of the North American experience since the early 1930s. Now, attention is shifting toward the addition of technologies like Augmented Reality, to enhance the experience of driving and getting from point A to point B, and also using that technology to navigate the vehicle without a driver. 

There are now endless possibilities when it comes to custom car culture and Larkins feels this is their place to explore and forage for the looks that people want and can’t even imagine. 

“I want to step away from driving for the platforms and I would love to design with them,” said Larkins. “There is a group of people that are in support of this future technology and there is this other group of people that are kind of scared of it because it feels very cold and very uninviting and very new, so I would like to be the one to sort of bridge that gap for those people and make it less scary.” 

The vision that Larkins has, is that they would like to reimagine the possibilities of custom interiors with interchangeable parts and additions that one could only think of as synonymous to Barbie and her endlessly fun assortment of interchangeable outfit components. 

Larkins sees a long future ahead, where they have the opportunity to collaborate with airlines, rideshare companies and any other sponsors who are willing to make their visions come to reality. Until then, they will continue to weave up and down the asphalt arteries of WeHo and beyond, rolling on Mollie and working on their fairytale ending.

Even the dogs know 90210 is the zip code that offers the best treats.

Beverly Hills is known for high-end shopping, $500 haircuts, pampering at every turn and a few famous and infamous celebrity homes. But this Sunday it’s going to the dogs — at least for one day.

Beverly Hills will host its annual Doggy Daze 90210 festival next Sunday at Roxbury Park, transforming the grassy expanse known as “Wiggly Field” into a hub for pet adoptions, entertainment and family activities.

The free event, running from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. on Nov. 3, aims to connect homeless pets with potential owners while celebrating the bond between humans and animals.

“This is more than just a pet festival — it’s about building community and helping animals in need,” said Dana Besen, spokesperson for the City of Beverly Hills, which organizes the event.

Five rescue organizations, including The Amanda Foundation and Wags and Walks, will bring adoptable pets to the festival. A highlight of the day will be a pet parade featuring costumed animals, followed by a talent contest.

30 vendors will line the park, offering everything from luxury pet spa services to gourmet pet food. Even Shake Shack is getting in on the action, selling special “pup cups” for four-legged attendees.

For children, the festival will feature an arts and crafts zone, face painting, and library story time sessions. Food trucks will be onsite throughout the day.

The event has attracted notable local support, with Beverly Hills residents Lili and Jon Bosse serving as gold sponsors. Owen Care and Foo Dee Doo Press have also signed on as sponsors.

To manage the expected crowds, organizers have arranged free parking at Beverly Hills High School, with pet-friendly shuttles running to and from the park from 10:45 a.m. to 5 p.m.

Last year’s event drew hundreds of attendees and resulted in so many pet adoptions, according to city officials, that the event is now one of the most popular the city hosts. They expect an even larger turnout this year.

The festival comes as animal shelters across Los Angeles County report high numbers of pets needing homes, making events like Doggy Daze increasingly important for connecting animals with potential adopters.

Roxbury Park is located at 471 S. Roxbury Drive in Beverly Hills. More information about the event can be found at beverlyhills.org/csevents.

For the fifth time, a women’s volleyball team has chosen to forfeit instead of play against San Jose State University, because of rumors that one of its players is a transgender woman. 

The University of Nevada, Reno, officially announced on Friday that it would forfeit Saturday’s game against the SJSU Spartans. This followed an announcement by Wolf Pack players who said they “refuse to participate in any match that advances injustice against female athletes,” without providing further details.

Originally, Nevada’s athletic department had said the program would not back out from the match, citing state equality laws, but also said that no players would be disciplined if they chose to not participate.

“The vast majority of our team decided this is something we wanted to take a stand on,” Nevada team captain Sia Liilii told Fox News. “We didn’t want to play against a male player.”

“In all of our team meetings it just kept coming back to the fact that men do not belong in women’s sports. If you’re born a biological male, you don’t belong in women’s sports. It’s not even about this individual athlete. It’s about fair competition and safety for everyone.”

Outsports and several conservative and right-wing websites have identified the player who is rumored to be trans, but the Los Angeles Blade has opted to not do so since she herself has not come forward to either acknowledge or deny she is trans. 

As ESPN reported, Nevada follows Southern Utah, Boise State, Wyoming, and Utah State in canceling games against the Spartans. Boise State, Wyoming, Utah State, and Nevada are all members of the Mountain West Conference, so those contests are considered forfeits and count as valuable wins in the league standings for San Jose State.

Riley Gaines, the anti-trans inclusion activist for the Independent Women’s Forum has joined the chorus in claiming the Spartans’ roster includes a trans woman.

If you're wondering why teams are forfeiting against @SJSU, here's the reason.

Last night another woman was smashed in the face by a kill from a man posing as a woman.

It's unfair, unsafe, and regressive, yet our "leaders" remain silent. pic.twitter.com/OS15AFxQsp

— Riley Gaines (@Riley_Gaines_) October 18, 2024

Despite this, neither San Jose State nor any of the other forfeiting teams have said the university’s women’s volleyball team has a trans player. SJSU issued a statement defending its roster.

“Our athletes all comply with NCAA and Mountain West Conference policies and they are eligible to play under the rules of those organizations. We will continue to take measures to prioritize the health and safety of our students while they pursue their earned opportunities to compete,” the statement read.

The governors of Idaho, Nevada, Utah, and Wyoming — all of whom are members of the Republican Party — have issued public statements supporting the cancellations, claiming it’s in the interest of fairness in women’s sports. This week, Donald Trump, the GOP presidential nominee and former president, spoke at a Fox News televised town hall when asked about trans athletes in women’s sports. 

“We’re not going to let it happen,” Trump said. “We stop it, we stop it, we absolutely stop it. We can’t have it. You just ban it. The president bans it. You don’t let it happen. It’s not a big deal.” 

The LA Blade sat down with Carter Wilson, novelist and anthropologist, to discuss his new novel “The Provider.”

Wilson is best known for his 1980s gay bestseller about a fictional photographer on the expedition where the Inca ruins at Machu Picchu were “discovered,” featuring a love story between the photographer and a Peruvian guide. With co-writer Judith Coburn, Wilson contributed Harvey Fierstein’s narration for the Oscar-winning documentary “The Times of Harvey Milk,” and wrote Dustin Hoffman’s narration for “Common Threads,” which also won an Academy Award. Wilson’s research on gay Mexico enabled him to help gay men seeking asylum in the U.S. as members of a persecuted minority.

Los Angeles Blade: What is your novel “The Provider” about?

Wilson: A married contractor approaching 40 decides to give in to his curiosity about casual sex with other men. When he meets a wealthy older man, he finds himself falling in love.

Los Angeles Blade: What’s special about your main character?

Wilson: Jake Guarani has always prided himself on being a sexually accomplished ladies’ man. In ten years of marriage, however, he has not cheated on his wife. He’s the “provider,” working hard in the construction business to take care of his family—something he’s both proud of and resents. Though brash and forthright, Jake also has his insecurities. Through friendship with a school pal, he was raised around North Shore of Chicago wealth, so the casual put-downs of his clients and co-workers hurt. At one level, “The Provider” is about how sex and class work together—or don’t.

Los Angeles Blade: Why did Jake wait so long before exploring his sexual interests in other men?

Wilson: The conventional demands of his life and profession kept him from allowing himself to think seriously about that side of himself. Now the internet has helped make hook-ups easier to arrange.

Los Angeles Blade: In the story of a “straight” guy’s affair with another “straight” guy, what will be of interest to people in the lesbian and gay community?

Wilson: Well, it’s a love story. Though it’s a cliché, in the past lesbian book people assured me that women were buying my fiction because they love a love story. How other people of any stripe manage the difficult waters of sex, relationship, and obsession is always a strong pull.

Los Angeles Blade: Where did the impulse to tell this particular story come from?

Wilson: From talking with married men who have sex with men about how they handle the complications, contradictions, and the fun.

Los Angeles Blade: About a quarter of the way into “The Provider,” the reader encounters a lot of graphic descriptions of sex between the two main characters. Why is this?

Wilson: Jake, my protagonist, is also a “provider” in the sense that he gets off on pleasing his partner. It is sexual hunger which brings him and the older guy together in motel rooms and then leads them along into something else. (I had a friend who used “motel” as a verb: “My cousin used to come by and motel me,” he would say.) The two men get to know each other primarily in these brief interactions. So I couldn’t go dot-dot-dot on the subject of bodies and hearts and minds when all three are in play.

Los Angeles Blade: Is it easy for you to write about sex?

Wilson: Ha! I started to say it’s not easy for me to write about anything, but after so many years at it, that’s not exactly true anymore. The hardest part of writing about sex is avoiding the clichés. They crop up all around. Equally hard is letting the reader feel the wonders which sometimes attach to the physical acts.

Los Angeles Blade: Is there really some distinction between “erotic writing” and porn?

Wilson: My friend Jay Cantor says erotic writing may just be “the higher porn.” The difference, however, is real. In a XXX movie, telling the pizza man you don’t have any change but you’d be glad to get horizontal with him in the bedroom might suffice. But it is just not enough for character-based and memorable erotic writing, the kind of thing you find in D.H. Lawrence or Flaubert.

Los Angeles Blade: You say “class” is seldom related to sexuality these days. Why is that?

Wilson: Mainly because in our current culture, we pretend that social class with all its weird markers and its cruelties does not exist. Ethnicity (or gayness) blankets a lot of our troubles that are really about class. Jake Guarani is proud of being a working guy, but the fact he’s pleasuring a patrician, old-family fellow is a large part of the affair’s turn-on for him.

Los Angeles Blade: What is your feeling about what “bisexuality” is really about?

Wilson: We often talk about bisexuality in very sloppy and unhelpful ways. Take me as an example. I have been out of the closet for 47 years. I have not had sex with a woman for 41 years. I identify as being gay (I sometimes excessively shout it from the rooftops). Yet given the experiences of my past, am I technically somehow still really “bi”? But the interesting problem lies deeper than that. It lies in what theorists of sex call “sexual object choice.” Is it possible not to have some kind of long-term preference for men or women? And if so, how many people are there really like that? When a psychiatrist friend tells Jake he thinks Jake is that relative rarity—a “true” bisexual—Jake asks if that means there’s some kind of discount or something he hasn’t been putting in for.

Los Angeles Blade: Why are gay men sometimes suspicious of men who claim to be bi?

Wilson: In one way the suspicion is justified. Being heterosexual remains a privilege despite all we’ve done to equalize things. So proclaiming yourself bi can be a way to cling to hetero privilege while also enjoying all the fruits of being queer. (I was going to say the fruits of being a fruit, but I won’t.) However, I’m against the cynicism in judging others that way. That’s some of what “The Provider” is all about.

Los Angeles Blade: Six novels, nonfiction, a children’s book, film work. You’ve had a long and varied writing career. Are there common themes that hold it together?

Wilson: I’m old enough to have passed through the so-called sexual revolution of the 1960s and ’70s, a time for which I remain grateful, as it gave me the… well… balls to come out. The idea that the liberation of the body and the exploration and fulfillment of desires would elevate and enlarge the mind and the spirit remains strong in me. My other fascination has been Mexico and especially Mayan people there. Three of my novels take place in the state of Chiapas, and I think there was liberation from middle-class fuddy-duddyness in getting to know a second culture as well as I could.

Los Angeles Blade: Working on two Academy Award-winning documentaries must have been fun, yes?

Wilson: Fun yes, but also hard work done under a lot of time pressure. The narration of a feature-length documentary is like one long poem, and you have to be able to hold everything you need to say in your head and not repeat or even echo yourself. Especially on “Harvey Milk,” my co-writer and I got to contribute to the structuring of the film when the director and others had worn themselves out trying different possibilities.

Los Angeles Blade: You’ve also done a good deal of movie writing.

Wilson: Yes, though nothing that ever made it all the way up to the big silver. Dramas with friend Tim Hunter, original comedies with Judith Coburn, an adaptation of John Webster’s Jacobean melodrama “The White Devil” with Tim, and by myself a screenplay for Christopher Isherwood’s excellent first American novel “The World in the Evening.”

Los Angeles Blade: Are there things you learned from film writing that help writing fiction?

Wilson: A good rule for movies is always to know where your main character is. Where did we see her last and when will she show up again? In fiction this is less necessary, but if you keep to it, you won’t wander off and lose time on peripheral stuff you’ve later got to cut. Of course, the big difference between fiction and film is that unless you have a voice-over narrator, in a feature you can’t just say “The next morning Winky woke up with a hangover as big as the Ritz.” You have to indicate all that somehow. Well, you can put up a card, “Six Years Later in Amalfi, Italy” but that’s a little shoddy usually.

Los Angeles Blade: Tell us a little about your work on gay asylum cases from Mexico.

Wilson: In the 1990s under Janet Reno, the Department of Justice allowed prejudice against gay men and women and people with HIV in Mexico to become a reason for them to seek asylum in the U.S. The standard, however, was strict—you had to have a reasonable fear for your own life if you were returned to your country of origin. Because on my anthropological side I had studied and written about gay life and HIV in Mexico, I was able to serve as an expert witness in over 60 cases in immigration court. Most of this was pro bono work, and it was great to be able to use my “academic” knowledge to help others. You don’t encounter that possibility very often in universities.

Los Angeles Blade: Do you have a next project?

Wilson: I have a nonfiction story called “Happy Monet Christmas, Darling” which is about actress Martha Hyer having hubby producer Hal Wallis’s great Impressionist paintings copied and sold off, which I’m preparing for publication. Ad line: ‘Skulduggery in the ranks of Hollywood Royalty.’

Los Angeles Blade: What’s your life like now?

Wilson: Quiet. Retired from the University of California Santa Cruz for 22 years, live within sight of the ocean (we can hear seals on the beach on winter nights when the wind is right), husband who prefers his cooking to mine, a lot of satisfaction with life, though I’m trying not to be piggy or smug or intolerable about that.

Los Angeles Blade: Any regrets?

Wilson: A younger and better-looking writer, 54, apparently has the same birth name as mine, and his production of thrillers and suspense has “blanketed” me some on Amazon and the Wiki. You can’t copyright a name. It was OK with me when a “Carter Wilson” from Virginia became Miss World America 1979. I told everyone I did OK in bathing suit and gown, but got lower marks in talent for my juggling on a unicycle act.

Los Angeles Blade: Do you sleep in the nude?

Wilson: I do. Also shower there.

Born and raised in Washington, DC, Carter Wilson taught at Harvard, Stanford, Tufts University, and UC Santa Cruz during his long career. His 1995 book “Hidden in the Blood: A Personal Investigation of AIDS in the Yucatán” won the Ruth Benedict Prize from the Gay and Lesbian section of the American Anthropological Association. He lives now on the Monterey Bay with his husband and their two dachshunds and one very mellow female pittie named Peaches.

Website: https://bankilal.ag-sites.net/index.htm

When filmmaker Sean Baker chose to shoot an entire feature film – “Tangerine” (2015) – using only iPhones, he caught the attention of film enthusiasts and turned it into his breakthrough. For LGBTQ audiences, however, what felt much more groundbreaking was that Baker had made a film about trans sex workers on the “mean streets” of Hollywood, cast real trans women to play them, and depicted them with as much humanity as the cis/het protagonists in any mainstream movie.

It really wasn’t much of a bold leap for Baker, who had from the beginning centered his movies around people from marginalized, largely stigmatized or disregarded communities. A story about transgender sex workers was a logical next step, and the years since have seen him continue in the same vein, both by advocating directly for decriminalization and respect for sex workers and by the compassionate treatment of their stories in his work, – such as 2017’s “The Florida Project,” arguably his most visible success so far.

In his latest film – “Anora,” now in limited release after a premiere at Cannes 2024 and a win of the festival’s prestigious Palm d’Or prize – that undercurrent in his creative identity may have manifested its most fully realized bloom.

The title character, who goes by the more American-sounding “Ani” (Mikey Madison), is an in-demand erotic dancer at a popular Brooklyn club, and she’s the walking definition of a seasoned “pro.” Even so, when Ivan (Mark Eydelshteyn) – a wealthy Russian oligarch’s son in America on a student visa – shows up at the club, she finds herself in uncharted territory. Smitten, he whisks her into a world of endless parties and unthinkable wealth – and when he impetuously proposes to her during an impromptu trip to Las Vegas, she embraces the chance for a “Cinderella story” and accepts.

Their wedded bliss proves short-lived when the tabloid gossip reaches Ivan’s parents in Russia. No sooner has the couple returned to Brooklyn than a trio of family “operatives” (Karren Karagulian, Vache Tovmasyan, Yura Borisov) stages a clumsy home invasion to take control of the situation, with orders from the top to have the marriage annulled immediately. The young groom, fearing his father will pull the plug on his free-wheeling American lifestyle and force him to return to Russia, flees the scene – leaving Ani to fend for herself, and ultimately leading her into an unlikely (and volatile) alliance with her supposed “kidnappers” as they attempt to track him down in the wilds of Brooklyn.

According to press notes, “Anora” began as an effort by Baker to produce a vehicle for Karagulian, a respected indie actor of Russian-Armenian heritage who has appeared in every one of his movies to date. He developed the story with the idea of the “home invasion” sequence as a centerpiece that transforms the narrative from edgy romance to character-driven “chase” adventure – and after casting Madison (previously best known for her regular role in TV’s “Better Things”) as Ani, decided to craft the story around her emotional journey. 

It was a fortuitous choice, supplemented by the filmmaker’s talent for making all his characters into relatable figures with whom we cannot help but empathize. Nobody seems a one-dimensional menace, but rather just another struggling human caught up in thankless circumstances and trying to rise to the occasion; this is hardly a surprising approach from Baker, oft-praised for the humanism reflected in his work, but in “Anora,” that egalitarian perspective makes for a dynamic that both heightens and undercuts the inherent tension; while the threat of violence may hover over the film’s second half like a patiently circling vulture, we recognize that none of the involved players desires such an outcome, and their resultant ineffectiveness adds a winning layer of comedic irony. It also helps his movie to deepen as it goes, and by the time he brings “Anora” home, it has transcended the genres from which it samples to leave us with a bittersweet satisfaction that feels infinitely more authentic than the “Pretty Woman” fantasy toward which it hints in the beginning.

It would be an affront to reveal much about how things play out, except to say that its final scene delivers a profoundly resonant impact that we understand without having to hear a word of dialogue; it’s the payoff earned by two hours of flawless performances from a cast palpably attuned to each other, guided by a cinematic master whose gift for bringing out the best in his collaborators has helped to make him one of the most unequivocally acclaimed American filmmakers of our era.

As seamless a group effort as it is, Madison’s Ani – fierce, determined, and unwilling to give up any agency over her life – is the lynch-pin, so much a force to be reckoned with that we somehow never doubt she will come out on top of this harrowing crisis, yet at the same time navigates around a layer of vulnerability that reminds us just how much like the rest of us she is. While neither she nor any of the film’s characters is queer, there is something about her – her refusal to be defined or stigmatized for who she is, perhaps, or her outsider status in a culture where conformity to traditional rules and class hierarchy is the prime directive – which makes her feel like “one of us,” an outcast thumbing her nose at those who would dismiss or decry her over how she lives her life. It’s a tour-de-force performance, and “Anora” hinges on its power.

She’s supported by a universally superb ensemble. Special mention goes to Eydelshteyn, whose Ivan has an irresistible charm that helps us believe Ani’s decision to trust him and keeps us from judging him too harshly for his inevitable callowness; Karagulian and Tovmasyan, as the chief and second banana (respectively) of the hapless henchmen who attempt to intimidate the young newlyweds into submission, both embody decidedly ordinary men trying to stay in control despite being hopelessly out of their depth, a source for both much-needed humor and unexpected empathy; but it’s Borisov”s Igor who becomes the film’ most compelling figure – the “muscle” of the home invasion crew whose outward thuggishness hides a much more thoughtful approach to life than anyone around him might be capable of seeing, and who establishes himself in the third act as the film’s grounding emotional force.

Of course, Baker’s knack for creating a “wild ride” of a film (populated by people we probably wouldn’t want to hang out with in real life) plays a big part in making this one a sexy (often explicitly) and entertaining movie as well as a deeply engaging, challenging piece of cinema, and the gritty, ‘70s-evocative cinematography from Drew Daniels only heightens the experience. It’s one of those rare films that, even though it is crafted with excellence from every contributor, somehow manages still to be greater than the sum of its parts. 

It’s our pick for the best film of the year so far, and while it might be too soon for us to proclaim “Anora” as Sean Baker’s masterpiece, it’s certainly tempting to do so.

The advocacy organization GLSEN held its annual Rise Up LA event at NeueHouse Hollywood on Friday, Oct. 18. GLSEN presented its Champion Award to Emmy-winning actress Sheryl Lee Ralph.

(Photos by Jon Kopaloff for GLSEN)

You know it’s there. It’s been lurking in your Netflix queue for weeks now, taunting you, beckoning you with its sure promise of sexy, lurid thrills, but you’ve been holding back – and we can’t say we blame you. After all, that “Dahmer” show was pretty hard to watch.

For many Netflix viewers, there have been no such qualms; though Ryan Murphy’s “Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story” debuted nearly a month ago, it’s currently the platform’s #3 most-watched series in the U.S., despite mixed reviews from critics and controversy over the way the show’s narrative depicts the facts of the notorious 1989 murder that put the two brothers in the national spotlight through two highly publicized trials. Even if killing their wealthy parents put the Menandez brothers into prison for life, it also put them into the upper echelon of “True Crime” superstars, and that makes anything dealing with their story “must-see TV” for a lot of people.

If you’re one of those who have resisted it so far, it’s likely your reasons have something to do with the very things that make it so irresistible to so many others. It’s hard to imagine a more sensational (or more gruesome) crime story than the tale of Lyle and Erik (Nicholas Alexander Chavez and Cooper Koch), who killed their wealthy parents with multiple shotgun blasts in their Beverly Hills mansion, claimed the deaths were the result of an organized crime “hit,” and then went on an extravagant spending spree with their multi-million-dollar inheritance. Even knowing just the surface details, it’s brimming with circumstances that conjure deep and troubling questions, not least about how two abundantly fortunate young men – Lyle was 21 at the time of the killing, Erik only 18 – could possibly have become capable of such a horrific act; their claim they acted in fear, after years of sexual and psychological abuse from their parents, offers answers that only leads to more questions. It’s easy to see how a morbid fascination could develop around the case (and the perpetrators, who at the time were each charismatic, handsome, and somehow boyishly adorable in spite of the silver-spoon detachment they seemed to exude) in a society endlessly fascinated by the dirty secrets and bad behavior of rich, beautiful people.

That, of course, makes the Menendez saga a natural fit with Ryan Murphy’s brand of television, which embraces the sensationalism of whatever subject it tackles – as we’ve seen from the transgressively macabre twists of “American Horror Story” to the scandal-icious celebrity backbiting of “Feud” to the campy noir-flavored psychopathy of “Ratched.” His “American Crime Story” anthology has delivered its true-life dramas with an equal eye toward creating those “WTF?” moments that inevitably have social media buzzing with both glee and outrage the morning after they drop. The “Monster” franchise is a natural progression, using Murphy’s shrewd knack for cultural provocation to unearth the underlying social dysfunctions that help create an environment in which such killers can be created.

With the inaugural installment, “Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story,” it can be argued that he crafted a chilling masterpiece of binge-able long-form storytelling that not only took viewers into the unspeakable horrors that took place in the killer’s apartment, but into the mind of the man who committed them. Yet while the show proved successful, earning an impressive tally of critical accolades, it was met with a harsher tone – much of it from families of Dahmer’s real-life victims – for capitalizing on his crimes.

For “Menendez,” the reception has been predictably similar, though its critical reception has not been quite as warm, with many reviewers taking issue with Murphy’s signature slicked-up style and the show’s overt homoeroticism. Controversies, however, have come along as expected; objections over the extremely unflattering portrayal of José and Kitty Mendez (the ill-fated parents, played here with star-power intensity by Javier Bardem and Chloë Sevigny), and of the incestuous bond alleged between the title characters themselves, have arisen alongside complaints about the distortion of facts to support a narrative favoring the boys’ version of events that Murphy – who co-wrote the series as well as produced it – wants to advance.

It’s certainly fair to claim that Murphy plays fast and loose with facts; his purpose here is not to transcribe events, like a docuseries, but to interpret them. He and his fellow writers craft “Monsters” theatrically, with bold strokes and operatic moments; they mine it for black humor and milk it for emotional intensity; the series plays up the brothers’ pretty-boy charms, caressing their sculpted bodies with the camera and frequently showing them in various states of near or total nudity; it seems to fixate on the messy, petty, and ignoble traits of its characters, and illuminate the messy personal motives driving their public agendas; it even employs a “Rashomon”-esque approach in which it variously portrays different versions of the same events depending on the character describing them. In short, it’s not a show that is looking for factual truth; it’s searching for a more complex truth behind the facts.

That truth, perhaps, has a lot to do with the shame, stigma, and silence around abuse; the tendency to disbelieve the victims (especially when they are male – a prosecutor during the trials famously argued that a male “couldn’t be raped”); the cultural homophobia that further complicates the dynamic when the abuse comes from someone of the same sex. Does such abuse warrant absolution for murder, especially when the murder is as excessively brutal as the killing of José and Kitty Menendez? That’s a question Murphy and crew leave up to the viewers.

Such moral ambiguity is surely part of the reason that shows like “Monsters” and its predecessor are met with such hostility from some viewers; they offer no easy comfort, no straightforward moral order to reassure us that our perceptions of good and evil are just or fair or even correct – and if you’re looking for a hero to step forward and make sense of it all for us, you’re not going to find one.

If that’s too bleak a prospect for you, or if the notion of criminals as celebrities is something you’re just not comfortable with enough to make allowances for artistic intention, then “Monsters” may not be for you. 

For anyone else who has hesitated to watch, however, it’s a show worthy of your time. Though it might seem uneven, even disjointed at times, it paints an overall picture of the Menendez case that is about something much more than the murders – or the murderers – themselves. The performances are all accomplished, well-tuned together to a sort of elevated authenticity, with special note to a jaw-dropping star turn by Koch monologuing his way through a one-shot full-length episode filmed in a single take.

The latter alone is enough to make “Monsters” an awards-worthy piece of television. While it may not be the right show for every taste, it’s not “trash TV” either. It’s a bold and challenging work from one of our most prolific and dedicated queer showmen, and if it leaves you feeling sorry for monsters, is that really such a bad thing?

While the New York Liberty are focused on defeating the Minnesota Lynx in the WNBA finals, one of its stars has come under attack from anti-gay bigots who made death threats against that player and her wife, according to the Associated Press.

The homophobic death threats targeted forward Breanna Stewart and her wife, retired Phoenix Mercury guard Marta Xargay. Stewart said they arrived in Xargay’s email inbox. 

“The fact it came to Marta’s email is something she (had to) see. The level of closeness was a little bit different,” she said. “Make sure that myself and Marta are okay, but that our kids are the safest.”

Stewart, the two-time MVP known to teammates and on social media as “Stewie,” told reporters Tuesday she notified her team about the emails, The Liberty then escalated it to WNBA security.

“We’re taking the proper precautions,” Stewart said, noting that she felt the Liberty’s winning streak was only encouraging more threats. New York is leading their opponents two games to one after Tuesday night’s 80-77 win in Minneapolis. “We love that people are engaged in our sport, but not to the point where there’s threats or harassment or homophobic comments being made.”

Xargay filed a complaint with the New York Police Department at the advice of the team and security, said Stewart.

“Being in the finals and everything like that it makes sense to file something formal,” she said.

The NYPD confirmed to the Associated Press that it received a report of aggravated harassment involving emails sent to “a 33-year-old victim,” said a police spokesperson. The department’s media relations team added that the NYPD hate crimes task force is investigating the threats. 

Although Stewart told reporters she has an agency that reviews most of the messages she receives, she was stunned to learn from her wife about the hateful messages that wound up in Xargay’s inbox. She said that’s why she decided to let fans know there’s no justification for hate. 

“For me to use this platform to let people know it’s unacceptable to bring to our sport,” she said.

Last month, WNBA players and their union representatives called out league commissioner Cathy Engelbert for failing to condemn a spike in racist attacks on players. It’s been a long-standing problem exacerbated by the rivalry between Indiana Fever star Caitlin Clark and the Chicago Sky’s Angel Reese. The league has never been more popular than it is now, and with that success, fans have escalated their criticism of players. 

Since then, Engelbert has addressed the rise in player harassment on social media in an address prior to Game 1 of the WNBA finals one week ago. 

“It just is something where we have to continue to be a voice for this, a voice against it, condemning it, and making sure that we find every opportunity to support our players, who have been dealing with this for much longer than this year,” Engelbert said.

In her address, Engelbert pledged the league will work with the players’ union to figure out what they can do together to combat it. 

“We continue to emphasize that there is absolutely no room for hateful or threatening comments made about players, teams or anyone affiliated with the WNBA,” a league spokesperson said in response to questions about the death threats made against Stewart and Xargay. “We’re aware of the most recent matter and are working with league and team security as well as law enforcement on appropriate security measures.”

The Liberty play the Lynx again Friday night in Minneapolis.