Review: ‘The Boys in the Band’ (2020)
The Ryan Murphy-produced revival of a timeless classic works (mostly) well as a gateway for younger generations to be acquainted with a groundbreaking pioneer for gay representation
This is a spoiler-free review.
Mart Crowley’s monumental play The Boys in the Band originally premiered off-Broadway in 1968, featuring a cast made up almost entirely of gay men, one year before the historic Stonewall riots. The production was a financial success and remained onstage in New York for 1,001 performances. It was one of the first pieces of media to include gay characters, devoid of cliché with a range of personalities inspired by the men in Mart Crowley’s life. Its depiction of homosexuality was as frank and casual as any heterosexual protagonist, setting a standard for gay representation that remains exceptional to this day. In 1970, Mart Crowley adapted his play into a groundbreaking film, complete with the same off-Broadway cast and directed by William Friedkin (The French Connection, The Exorcist). In 2018, director Joe Mantello revived the play for Broadway with an entirely gay ensemble, a Tony Award-winning production that would be made into the 2020 Netflix film, starring the same cast. The Boys in the Band tells the story of Michael, a New Yorker who invites a handful of fellow New York gays to a birthday party he is hosting for his friend Harold. Martinis are drunk, cigarettes are smoked, and drama ensues.
The 2020 film opens with Harold (Zachary Quinto) smoking a joint and dropping a record needle. We are introduced to each of our characters out in the real world just hours before Michael’s party, shopping, riding the subway, playing tennis, hustling, and picking up strangers. Matt Bomer, with the abs and physique of an actor rather than an average 1968 civilian, undresses for the camera. This will be one of many polished aspects of this Ryan Murphy production. The original film, with its tone and atmosphere grounded in urban decay, is a far cry from the heightened melodramatic flair of this version. The first adaptation was melodramatic, but not in its filmmaking. William Friedkin directed a serious film with experimental tendencies and allowed for the funnier moments to come through organically (it was the characters that were melodramatic). In Joe Mantello’s approach, each tonal shift is framed with a tracking shot, a pan, or a zoom. The camera never sits still for more than a couple of seconds, making some sequences feel over-shot and over-edited. Comedic timing is often thrown off-balance by the editing, and bitchy one-liners are constantly framed in meme-ready close-ups. Extravagance doesn’t make this version better, or even more accessible to modern audiences, but it certainly seems more suspended from reality.
The ensemble does an excellent job all-around. These actors deliver individually superb performances, though occasionally the acting appears over-performed, as if directed to act at a “12” instead of a “10”. Emotional moments are not allowed to simply be “emotional moments” — they must be loud, spectacular outbursts that reach beyond the back of the theater. Zachary Quinto’s alluring performance as Harold is subtle and restrained (his character is meant to be stoned), and he is outstanding. Quinto delivers each line with believable thoughtful execution, treating Harold as if he were a real person (which, Harold was based on a close friend of Mart Crowley’s). Jim Parsons’ performance as Michael mostly comes through authentically. Michael is not out to his old college friend Alan (Brian Hutchison). As Michael and the other boys dance to “Heat Wave” by Martha and the Vandellas, Alan enters Michael’s apartment. Michael suddenly notices Alan and almost immediately makes an excuse for dancing with his friends, with an all-too-familiar apprehension in his eyes. Jim Parsons performs Michael quite well, as arguably the most challenging character in the piece. Parsons lays out an array of emotions with a simple look in his eyes, aimed toward his homophobic (and possibly closeted) college friend Alan. Michael’s self-loathing evolves into drunken inhumanity, hatefully taunting each of the characters (supposedly his friends) until he becomes the villain halfway through. The trick to this character, it seems, is to create some understanding as to where Michael is coming from, rather than letting his harmful inebriated actions come off as purely antagonistic. Jim Parsons’ menacing delivery combined with Michael’s theatrical hateful speeches become so pathologically irritating to the point where understanding Michael sounds like more energy than it is worth. This may not be Jim Parsons’ fault, since most of the film’s dramatic moments appear to be intensified for effect.
The story’s second act serves as the portion in which each character is meant to deliver their monologues. In most stage productions (and in the 1970 adaptation), these moments would grant the actors the time and space to peel away their character as the audience watches and listens. The strength of the monologue is in the telling of a story, or addressing a tapestry of feelings from the character performing, allowing the power of speech to fill in the audience’s imagination. This 2020 film version visualizes stories and information we are being told via voiceover. These redundant flashbacks show us what we already know, only more expensively. I would rather the camera sit and enjoy the expressiveness of Robin de Jesús skillfully performing Emory’s monologue, watching his eyes light up and die down as he describes his romantic, painful memory. As I try to be immersed by the actors’ magnetic performances, the editing keeps insisting on cutting away, either to reaction shots or another flashback. Adapting a play into film always has the potential to come off as “too stagey” and not take enough advantage of what the medium of cinema offers (like the ability to implement flashbacks), but sometimes, allowing the text to speak for itself is more effective.
Joe Mantello’s The Boys in the Band serves mostly well as a newly imagined version of an enduring classic. Each actor excels at bringing these characters back to life, making up what is perhaps an ideal cast for this day and age. The beautifully written dialogue is timeless and translates eloquently to 2020, though the screenplay may be weighed down by the unremarkable filmmaking. It feels as though too much energy was invested in making this piece accessible to 2020 audiences. Finding the modernity in this work should not be so strenuous (I can personally confirm that gay men still act like this over 50 years later). This film does not need a digital vignette filter or distractingly flashy editing to excite young audiences. Innovative queer media such as Mart Crowley’s The Boys and the Band help make the world a more developed and well-rounded place for LGBTQ people to be visible. This 2020 revival is fulfilling as a necessary gateway for younger generations to learn about such historic landmarks.
The Boys in the Band (2020) is available to stream on Netflix.
