Some Men

On Sunday afternoon, I went to see "Some Men," a play by Terrence McNally, at the BCA in Boston. This was a last-minute decision, but I am glad I made it. The play was very well acted, and I found it good, even though the reviews pretty much dismissed it. I'm a bit confused as to why.

The reviews say the play is formulaic — that it uses every cliché in the book about the lives of gay men in the 20th century. Well, unless you've lived at Castro and 18th all your life, I don't really find those things cliché. The play has the "obligatory" scene with the dying AIDS patient in the hospital, whose friends come and visit and say pathetically hopeful and unrealistic statements about his improbable recovery. I'm sorry, but while we may have seen that same scene, in one form or another, in several books and plays and movies ("Longtime Companion" comes to mind), I defy a normal person (by "normal," I mean emotionally competent, not straight, in case there was any doubt) not to feel something move deep inside them when they watch that scene.

The play talks about the meaning of gay marriage, and how many gay people have changed their minds about it — from "who cares?" to "goddammit, yes I should be able to, so I will"; about people who led a happy life even though they weren't "out"; about internalized homophobia; about the dishonesty of the men who were married and fooling with other men on the side, but who felt they had no other choice at the time; about stereotypes and prejudices of all kinds; about the disconnect between young gays and old gays; about the wrong assumption that the younger generation has it easier across the board (ever heard of Laramie, Wyoming?); about what is and isn't courage. These may all be common themes in "gay literature," you could even say that "Some Men" is in a sense a collage of previous work by McNally (such as "Love, Valour, Compassion") and others, like novelist Ethan Mordden. But it's unfair to dismiss any work that makes you think as much as it makes you laugh... and sometimes cry.