In 1981, the New York Times reported on a “rare cancer” affecting gay men in New York and California. This disease was what we would now call AIDS. The US government did not react urgently to this crisis due to homophobia in the Reagan administration. As the disease was originally associated with gay and bisexual men, it was seen as a ‘gay disease’ or even a punishment from God. It took until AIDS spread to the point where it was rampant in the population for the government to take action, and by that point thousands of people had died, many of them queer. It was in this America that the New Queer Cinema movement appeared. This was made up of films that were often cheaply made, radical in their politics and rebellious in their ideas and narrative structures. These included Gus Van Sant’s ‘My Own Private Idaho’, Derek Jarman’s ‘Edward II’ and Cheryl Dunye’s ‘The Watermelon Woman’, all phenomenal films, but one that really stands out to me in particular is Gregg Araki’s 1992 film ‘The Living End’.
The Living End, whose title comes from a song by The Jesus and Mary Chain, follows two men. These are Jon, a quiet and ordinary film critic, and Luke, a borderline psychopathic drifter first seen spray-painting “fuck the world” onto a wall. Both are gay, and both are HIV positive. After Luke shoots three homophobic harassers, he flees the scene and ends up begging Jon to let him into his car, beginning a bizarre ‘Thelma and Louise’-style odd couple road trip.
Jon is diagnosed with HIV on the day the film starts, whereas Luke has been diagnosed for a while. This diagnosis makes Jon see his mundane, normal life from a different perspective. Faced with a ticking clock in his bloodstream, he latches on to the reckless Luke, who lives each day like it is his last. One thing the film conveys is a sense of hopelessness, and a strong feeling of righteous anger towards the government whose inaction has shortened the lives of these men. At one point Luke wonders what would happen if they went to Washington and injected George Bush with some of their blood, asking “How much do you want to bet they’d have a magic cure by tomorrow?”. At another he refers to AIDS as “the Neo-Nazi Republican final solution”. It’s not hard to see why he thinks this way. Araki never lets you see AIDS as tragedy. As far as he is concerned, it is a genocide, a slaughter of queer people caused by the deliberate inaction of a homophobic government.
Stylistically, the film is very bold. Araki has an incredible eye for composition, with so many striking and memorable visuals. It was made dirt cheap, and it looks it. However, the low budget is part of the aesthetic, adding a grittiness and ‘realness’ to the film, and so much character and atmosphere. In some ways the locations tell the story: from the urban grunge of the city at night, to the lonely beauty of vast deserts and the grime and dinginess of cheap motels.
However, by most metrics this film is kind of awful. The performances are mostly pretty good, but both leads can sometimes deliver a line awkwardly, although that could just be the fault of the corny dialogue. The whole thing is generally campy and silly, at least until the very end. Many will find it ridiculous and sloppy, because it is, but if you are in tune with the campiness of it all, it’s incredibly funny and entertaining. Araki wasn’t just trying to make an angry film, he was also trying to make a film that is rebellious, entertaining, queer and fun. To make a film about HIV full of misery from start to finish would get the wrong message across. It would make queerness out to be miserable, a curse that will destroy your life. If that’s what the movie conveyed, it would almost be like telling the homophobic government that they are right.
Nothing about the film is subtle, and that’s why I think it’s so brilliant. It revels in being hammy and overblown and shouts its message from the rooftops. Film critic Roger Ebert once called film “a machine that generates empathy”, and I think cinema is so important as it gives us a chance to see the world from someone else’s point of view. I find The Living End so powerful because it gives the viewer such a visceral sense of the anger of the queer community in the 80s and 90s. As the film is low-budget and imperfect, you are constantly made aware of the filmmaking, and therefore aware of the filmmakers. Araki’s own voice is loud and ever-present throughout the film because every single corny line, cheesy effect and camera wobble reminds you of his presence. The film is essentially a form of protest. Signs at a protest aren’t made of neatly sanded planks of wood, they are made of scraps of cardboard and cereal boxes. The New Queer Cinema movement came at a time when video cameras were much more affordable to the average person. Money was no longer so much of a barrier to entry, so people whose voices were not heard in mainstream cinema finally had a chance to put themselves out there.
The film ends with a dedication to musician Craig Lee and to “the hundreds of thousands who’ve died and the hundreds of thousands more who will die because of a big White House full of Republican fuckheads”. Seeing a film end with such a bold, aggressive statement shocked me, and stuck with me in particular. I thought that a film could be made now with a very similar ending statement. That film could be about multiple different issues. Cinema is even less restricted by income now, as everyone has a camera on their phone. Don’t let them tell your story for you. Tell it yourself.