I’m a sucker for Christmas movies. I watched two more yesterday, which brings my tally for this holiday season to about two dozen.
Yes, I’m overdosing on ho, ho, ho and I’m full of fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la. Some, of course, might suggest that I’m full of something else, but don’t be an old grumpy-pants. It is, after all, the season to be jolly.
Anyway, although the faces are (mostly) different and the places (mostly) change, there are common themes to each of these movies. To wit:
- Pretty girl from a one-horse town meets hunky boy from the big city. Or vice-versa.
- One of them is a Grinch who says bah, humbug to Christmas and all its trappings (usually due to the death of a loved one or the breakup of a relationship during the festive season), and the other can’t get enough tinsel, bright lights, cookies and egg nog.
- They are complete opposites, one a workaholic and the other forever stopping to smell the coffee.
- The sourpuss of the two eventually experiences an epiphanical moment and discovers the true meaning of Christmas, which has nothing to do with crass commercialism and everything to do with family and/or the nativity scene.
- They, naturally, fall in love after considerable time denying and fighting off their true feelings, then have a spat/rift over a deep, dark secret that really is a silly misunderstanding. They kiss, make up and head to the altar. They have babies and all live happily after. The end. Next movie, please.
Sure, it’s sappy stuff, but I fall for it every time, hook, line and Santa.
It occurred to me yesterday, however, that there’s something missing from all of these warm-and-fuzzy, flicks—gay men and lesbians.
These Christmas feel-good films feature old people, young people and middle-age people of varying skin hues and physical definitions. There are Catholics and Protestants and Jews and Muslims and Baptists and Buddhists and the odd atheist tossed into the blender. There are the filthy rich and the painfully poor. Some of the characters have powerful, high-paying jobs, others are stay-at-home moms or volunteers. There are creeps and crooks who spend the night in jail. But there are no gays. Not once in two dozen yuletide films have I seen a gay character. Or heard mention of a gay character.
What, gay people don’t do Christmas? We don’t fall in love? We don’t have families? We don’t have jobs? We don’t live happily ever after?
Well, I have it on reasonably good authority that LGBT people do all of the above, yet it has somehow excaped the notice of Christmas film-makers both north and south of the U.S.-Canada border. It is an astonishing omission. I mean, come on. Two dozen movies and not one gay man or lesbian?
Remind me again what century this is.