Fucking Baron Vladimir Harkonnen from Dune.
Specifically, the portrayal of Baron Harkonnen in the 1984 David Lynch adaptation, in all its grotesquely homosexual and homicidal horror.
First, let me just acknowledge that Frank Herbert's Dune is a monumental achievement in science fiction literature. The text is clear that its chief antagonist, Baron Harkonnen, is gay. And because the book came out in 1965, very pre-Stonewall, it's not particularly surprising that a gay villain is portrayed as a conniving sadist. It's perfectly consistent with the prevailing binary tropes of gay male characters being either effeminate clowns or dangerous sociopaths.
Second, please don't mistake me: I love David Lynch. It's impossible to overstate how hard Twin Peaks rocked my world. Mulholland Drive is easily one of my all-time favorite films. I even kind of enjoyed the delirious lunacy of Lynch's Dune adaptation when I later revisited it on videotape--Patrick Stewart and Kyle MacLachlan were great, the Bene Gesserit were darkly fabulous, and Sting made me feel that intoxicating combination of excited and scared. You know what I'm talking about.
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| Did I mention that Sting was effing glorious? |
But here's the problem. The year is 1988. I am solidly in my mid-teens, definitely past puberty and secretly (so secretly) aware that I'm gay. By then, everything about my imagination and personality has been shaped by Star Wars and my passion for all things space and science fiction.
Lynch's Dune, which flopped in theaters in 1984, has been horribly adapted for a televised mini-series event. For whatever reason, that televised version comes on at my grandparents' house. I can't imagine why they are letting us watch it--my grandmother was a seriously devout member of an extremely insular Christian church in rural Ohio and anything not-the-Bible was just confusing to her. My grandpa didn't care so much about the church, so maybe he was watching it? I don't know. In any event, this bullshit pops up on their TV:
I mean. WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. FUCK. My first instinct, as this is airing in my ultra-conservative grandparents' TV room in the depths of 1988, was mortified panic. How was I supposed to outwardly react? Like all closeted kids, I was an expert at maintaining a poker face or, if pressed, making a homophobic comment when something seemed too gay. But what response could sufficiently camouflage my own gayness in such confusing and disgusting circumstances? I was at an utter loss. I was so flustered that I simply left the room.
But the inner conflict I experienced was far more haunting. I knew I wanted to be with boys, and I knew I loved science fiction. But as far as I knew in 1988, this scene was the only way I had ever seen those two dimensions of my personality reconciled on-screen. And it was full of gag-worthy pustule drainage and fear and victimization and bloody rape-murder. Was that about me? This scene could easily disturb any kid--but a confused and lonely gay teen? It seriously wrecked me.
It would easily be another decade before less rapey and murdery gay characters would start appearing in pop culture, but not usually in science fiction and certainly not as protagonists. In very real ways, the specter of Baron Harkonnen has been casting his corpulent shadow over my perception of what it means to be gay in a science fiction movie for nearly 30 years.
Then, Poe Dameron shows up, and he is the exact polar opposite of Baron Harkonnen. He's loyal, funny, dignified, passionate, charismatic, and courageous. Gay kids could see all those things in someone they can closely identify with, instead of just seeing detestable villains or, worse, cowering victims whose only future is to get their hearts (literally) ripped out.
Could Poe be the hero we are looking for, who can save science fiction films from a century of toxic cinematic stereotypes of gay people? It's a lot to ask, but I am dying to see him try.
