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The Guardian
07-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Hidden Master: The Legacy of George Platt Lynes review – eye-opening snapshot of New York's queer scene
George Platt Lynes was an American photographer who lived in Paris in the 1920s and then mostly in New York City for the rest of his life; he died in 1955. A gay man who was very out by the standards of the times, he was right in the middle of the one of the most flamboyant bohemian queer scenes of the period. And, man, did he have fun, shagging up a storm and taking nude pictures of beautiful men and women (but mostly men) when he wasn't earning work shooting fashion spreads for Vogue magazine. This documentary, directed by Sam Shahid, introduces his life and work in a deeply respectful, straightforward way, splicing in hundreds of examples of his mostly black-and-white pictures with curators, admirers and some surviving friends and acquaintances. Notable interviewees include portrait artist Don Bachardy, and the painter Bernard Perlin, seen in archive footage given he died in 2014, who was a very close friend of Platt Lynes and the executor of his artistic estate. Like so many other documentaries about dead artists that require cooperation from the deceased's estate, this sometimes gets a little hyperbolic about its subject's talent. Which is not to say that Lynes' work isn't worth exploring and celebrating, not only for its aesthetic merits but also for the way it captures a specific time and place. His commercial work was classical and elegant, tinged with a surrealism he learned first hand from Man Ray himself. His nudes and frankly erotic material are gorgeously sensual with a chilly, sculptural quality whose influence can be traced in later photographers of male nudes like Robert Mapplethorpe. Meanwhile, the snapshot the film offers of New York's queer scene in the 1940s and 50s – a shimmering fever dream of orgiastic (literally) cocktail parties, fuelled by passion and pomp – is an eye-opening delight. Lynes himself was in a long-running menage a trois with curator Monroe Wheeler and writer Glenway Wescott well before the word polyamorous was even coined, let alone 'throuple'. He was also very close to such figures as Gertrude Stein, who scolded him like a granny for dropping out of university, and Christopher Isherwood among others. His encounter with sexologist Alfred Kinsey (which became a friendship) resulted in the Kinsey Institute holding a significant chunk of Lynes' work, including a box marked 'private' that the curators teasingly insist they've never looked in out of respect for Lynes. The latter emerges as an irrepressibly charming figure, although perhaps not without a sinister, manipulative side that the film never really delves into. Hidden Master: The Legacy of George Platt Lynes is in UK cinemas from 11 July.
The Guardian
07-07-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Hidden Master: The Legacy of George Platt Lynes review – eye-opening snapshot of New York's queer scene
George Platt Lynes was an American photographer who lived in Paris in the 1920s and then mostly in New York City for the rest of his life; he died in 1955. A gay man who was very out by the standards of the times, he was right in the middle of the one of the most flamboyant bohemian queer scenes of the period. And, man, did he have fun, shagging up a storm and taking nude pictures of beautiful men and women (but mostly men) when he wasn't earning work shooting fashion spreads for Vogue magazine. This documentary, directed by Sam Shahid, introduces his life and work in a deeply respectful, straightforward way, splicing in hundreds of examples of his mostly black-and-white pictures with curators, admirers and some surviving friends and acquaintances. Notable interviewees include portrait artist Don Bachardy, and the painter Bernard Perlin, seen in archive footage given he died in 2014, who was a very close friend of Platt Lynes and the executor of his artistic estate. Like so many other documentaries about dead artists that require cooperation from the deceased's estate, this sometimes gets a little hyperbolic about its subject's talent. Which is not to say that Lynes' work isn't worth exploring and celebrating, not only for its aesthetic merits but also for the way it captures a specific time and place. His commercial work was classical and elegant, tinged with a surrealism he learned first hand from Man Ray himself. His nudes and frankly erotic material are gorgeously sensual with a chilly, sculptural quality whose influence can be traced in later photographers of male nudes like Robert Mapplethorpe. Meanwhile, the snapshot the film offers of New York's queer scene in the 1940s and 50s – a shimmering fever dream of orgiastic (literally) cocktail parties, fuelled by passion and pomp – is an eye-opening delight. Lynes himself was in a long-running menage a trois with curator Monroe Wheeler and writer Glenway Wescott well before the word polyamorous was even coined, let alone 'throuple'. He was also very close to such figures as Gertrude Stein, who scolded him like a granny for dropping out of university, and Christopher Isherwood among others. His encounter with sexologist Alfred Kinsey (which became a friendship) resulted in the Kinsey Institute holding a significant chunk of Lynes' work, including a box marked 'private' that the curators teasingly insist they've never looked in out of respect for Lynes. The latter emerges as an irrepressibly charming figure, although perhaps not without a sinister, manipulative side that the film never really delves into. Hidden Master: The Legacy of George Platt Lynes is in UK cinemas from 11 July.
New York Times
07-07-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Times
On Fire Island, a Dinner Made for and by the Dolls
When the editor Fran Tirado first began going to Fire Island, the queer beach community off the South Shore of Long Island, she found it to be surprisingly white, cisgender and male. In the summer of 2021, as Tirado, 34, was coming into her trans womanhood, she felt 'like I didn't belong,' she says. By the next year, she'd resolved to host her own gathering celebrating those who'd historically felt unwelcome on the barrier island because of their gender identity. 'I just wanted a reason to galvanize a bunch of trans people to descend,' she says with a smile. The now-annual event is called Doll Invasion, fitting for a weekend each August where trans folks lead the charge. Tirado, who was in March 2025 named the editor in chief of Them, brings together an all-trans lineup of performers and musical acts. The festivities double as a fund-raiser, with donations and proceeds from ticket sales going toward mutual aid efforts and helping to finance trans-led artistic initiatives. (Entry is free for trans people, and everyone else is asked to pay a suggested fee ranging from $50 to $150.) This past summer, for the third annual Doll Invasion, the D.J.s Macy Rodman and Lina Bradford and the drag performer Cherry Jaymes entertained the crowd along the sand, and the money raised went to Queer|Art and Advocates for Trans Equality, among other nonprofit organizations. The Friday night before the performances and pool party began, the event's full cast and crew — including stage managers, culinary staff and performers — gathered for a family-style dinner by the water, outside of the beach house they'd rented. 'It's a moment of gratitude for everything that people give to pull off Doll Invasion,' Tirado says. The model, writer and director Geena Rocero cooked and hosted an outdoor kamayan feast — a Filipino meal in which food is served on banana leaves and eaten communally by friends and family. 'Kamayan means eating with your hands [in Tagalog],' says Rocero, 42, who was born and raised in the Philippines. That tactile approach held a special meaning for the group assembled. 'It's [an act] of reclamation, as our bodily autonomy is being attacked,' she says. The event also commemorated the loss of the Argentine artist, actress and trans rights activist Cecilia Gentili, who died in February of last year. In her honor, the weekend's theme was 'All Dolls Go to Heaven' — throughout the weekend, guests wore grand feathered angel wings and bold, glittery eye makeup. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Geek Girl Authority
02-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Geek Girl Authority
David John Phillips on Writing OH! I MISS THE WAR and Its Hopeful Message for the Queer Community
Sometimes, all it takes is one monologue to awaken the muse. Actor and playwright David John Phillips, whose acclaimed new play Oh! I Miss the War is poised to take the Toronto Fringe Festival by storm, penned his latest work after finding inspiration from a monologue by Matthew Baldwin that features an older gay man. Recently, I had the privilege of chatting with David about bringing Oh! I Miss the War to life, the impetus behind writing it, how it's a love letter to queer elders and more. RELATED: Agape Mngomezulu Talks Bryon and Bracia's Relationship in Ginny & Georgia Season 3 This interview is condensed for length and clarity. David John Phillips Pictured: David John Phillips Melody McCune: We at GGA love a good origin story. How did you get into the arts? David John Phillips: I have always been an actor, actually, since childhood. I did my undergraduate degree at NYU Tisch School back in the '70s. Getting into the arts was pretty organic. Then, I fell out of the arts. After my undergraduate degree, I spent a few years as a professional actor, but found it impossible. I left acting and went into a career in academia. About 15 years ago, I thought that I needed to have fun. So, I started acting again, and it was fun. That's briefly how I went in and how I came out and how I went back again. Of course, there's a lot more detail there. That's the general outline. Oh! I Miss the War MM: Let's talk about Oh! I Miss the War . Can you tell me what it's about and the impetus behind writing it? DJP: Let me go with the impetus behind writing it first. Let me give you a bit of an origin story. That's a fascinating origin story. I was in the library of the National Theatre in London. I saw a volume entitled Queers and thought, 'I have to buy that one,' so I bought it and discovered it was a collection of eight monologues commissioned by the BBC to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the decriminalization of sodomy in the UK. One of the monologues was for an older gay man. Good monologues for older gay men are not common. RELATED: Revival 's Romy Weltman on Becoming Em and Working With Melanie Scrofano At that point, it became my COVID project to work on the monologue. That monologue features an old queen in a bar in London in 1967, during the week that sodomy was decriminalized. He's watching all the youngsters celebrate this, and thinking, 'What do they want to do? Get married next?' He laments the loss of the outlaw pleasures he had. He doesn't put it this way, of course, but he's concerned about creeping heteronormativity. He speaks Polari, an underground argot common in most of the first half of the 20th century among the gay subculture. Embracing the History That's the first part. I performed it and really loved the monologue, but it was 20 minutes. I thought I would like to make an evening out of this. So, I wrote a companion piece set more or less in the current day, but with a similar structure to the older queen. This time, a leather queen sits in a leather bar in the current day, looking at the youngsters and wondering where he fits in. Why doesn't he understand what they're saying? Both of them come back to really embracing the history they're looking at — the past they have been a part of and the future they're uncertain of. But there's a real sense of hope and love and compassion for the people in front of them now. That's where the piece came from and what it's about. RELATED: 5 Horror Movies With Queer Representation A Sense of Hope and Reassurance MM: What can audiences expect when they watch the show? DJP: They can expect to be moved. It's very funny. Jack, the queen from 1967, is an entertainer and is very funny. Matt, the leather queen of today, has a more wry sense of humor, but is also very funny. They each enjoy finding the humor in the situation. People can certainly expect to laugh. People can expect to appreciate the past, present and continuation of the project of queer world-building we've been engaged in for hundreds of years. Jack remembers back to 1932, and Matt talks about life today. People can expect to enjoy a sense of hope and reassurance that we've been doing this and we're still doing it. Life sucks, but that's fine. MM: Describe Oh! I Miss the War using three words. DJP: Queer. Sexy. Compassionate. RELATED: Sapphics With Swords: 6 Books Featuring Queer Lady Warriors Multitasking MM: I love that. What was it like for you getting to wear multiple hats as a writer and actor, from the inception of this show to getting it on its feet? DJP: I have really enjoyed the writing part. It was difficult, but the most difficult part of writing was done for me because I knew what I wanted to write about. I knew I wanted to write in response to Matthew Baldwin's piece. Matthew Baldwin is the playwright of I Miss the War . It was a lot of fun, very evocative and very moving to write the companion piece, called Oh! . That's the title of the second monologue. It was fun to perform a piece that I had written. I had to be careful to say, 'No, David, say the lines as you wrote them. There is a text here, and you can't make it up just because you wrote it. You decided with good care how this line would read, so read the line you wrote.' That was interesting. For the first several iterations, I directed it myself, which felt a bit like it was not directed. Now, for this iteration, I have hired a director. Very glad for that. It just looks more professional, more together. It's a much tighter and more theatrical show than it had been. I do not enjoy producing. I know that. The payoff from the producing, though, is that I get to do the show I want. RELATED: 10 Books With Queer Protagonists to Read All Year Round We're Doing Fine Pictured: David John Phillips MM: What have you taken away from this experience? DJP: I'll give you an anecdote. As I said, in Jack's piece, I Miss the War , a significant part is his concern that the subculture will die. That with this greater acceptance, with this openness, people are going to get married and move to the suburbs. What's the point of being queer if you're going to do that? I was performing in Toronto at Glad Day Bookshop, the oldest surviving gay bookstore in the world. As I was doing the show, I was looking around at the staff of this bookstore, looking around at the people frequenting the bookstore, and thinking, 'We're doing fine. We are plenty queer.' That's the main thing I have taken away from it. More prosaically, the other thing I'm taking away from it is a good show. A good show that is in my back pocket and that will travel. Influences and What's on the Horizon MM: Who are your influences as a playwright? DJP: Joni Mitchell is the first that pops into my head. The second piece, the piece I wrote, is pretty autobiographical. Looking at Joni Mitchell's work and her ability to take a very precise moment in life, explore that reverberation into history — into the cosmos — and then bring it back to that moment. It is the structure of many Joni Mitchell songs. That was really helpful to me in terms of the structure of the play. I often said, 'Look, if Joni can be this honest, I can be this honest. If Joni can talk about her life like this, I can talk about my life like this.' RELATED: Max Parker Gets Musical as Benvolio in Juliet & Romeo That courage in self-disclosure was really valuable to me. Matthew Baldwin, the playwright, said, 'Sure, write about yourself. The more specific and honest you can make it, the more universal it will be, the more people will resonate with it.' Those were really valuable precepts that I came back to again and again in writing it. MM: What else is on the horizon for you, career-wise? DJP: I will continue to shop this play around festivals. Also, I have this fantasy, which I don't think is completely unrealistic, but we're pursuing it. I think that universities and colleges with queer student groups, theater departments, queer studies or just queer student groups with a bit of a budget would love to bring me in for a weekend and perform this show and talk about it. I would like to try to do that. Oh! I Miss the War premieres at Native Earth's Aki Studio as part of the Toronto Fringe Festival on July 2, 2025, and will conclude its run on July 13. To keep up with David, check out his site. 5 Queer YA Retellings of CINDERELLA Contact: [email protected] What I do: I'm GGA's Managing Editor, a Senior Contributor, and Press Coordinator. I manage, contribute, and coordinate. Sometimes all at once. Joking aside, I oversee day-to-day operations for GGA, write, edit, and assess interview opportunities/press events. Who I am: Before moving to Los Angeles after studying theater in college, I was born and raised in Amish country, Ohio. No, I am not Amish, even if I sometimes sport a modest bonnet. Bylines in: Tell-Tale TV, Culturess, Sideshow Collectibles, and inkMend on Medium. Critic: Rotten Tomatoes, CherryPicks, and the Hollywood Creative Alliance.
The Guardian
16-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘Queer as a $3 bill': celebrating 100 years of LGBTQ+ art for Pride month
As curator Pietro Rigolo was combing through the Getty's archives in search of material for his new show, he came upon a strange sight – a $3 bill. 'I was in this section of the archive dealing with the Black Panther movement, the WPA, the gay rights movement and protest material related to HIV/Aids,' Rigolo told me during a video interview. 'In there, I found this little piece of ephemera that was this fictive $3 bill. This specific banknote bears the portraits of Harvey Milk and Bessie Smith.' According to Rigolo, the idea for the bill came from the phrase 'queer as a $3 bill', a once-pejorative remark that was claimed by the LGBTQ+ community as a rallying call and even term of endearment. Distributed during pride in 1981, the bill featured two gay icons: Milk, the first openly gay man elected to public office in California who was murdered in cold blood in 1978, eventually resulting in a city-wide riot. Smith was another queer icon, one of the most celebrated and beloved entertainers of the jazz age and known as the 'empress of the blues'. The bill is a fitting namesake for Rigolo's new show at the Getty Center, which showcases over 100 years of queer art, packing a powerful irreverence and defiance. Case in point, $3 Bill: Evidence of Queer Lives gets off to a engaging start with one of Cuban-American artist Félix González-Torres's candy piles. Named Untitled (Para Un Hombre en Uniforme), the 1991 work weighs about 220 pounds and features red, white and blue lollipops. Visitors are encouraged to take a lollipop. According to Rigolo, the weights of González-Torres's candy piles often refer to specific human beings, and the piles' dwindling nature makes a poignant metaphor for the withering away of so many LGBTQ+ people who fell ill during the Aids crisis of the 1980s and 1990s. Its themes draw in the debate over gays serving in the armed forces that was occurring in the 1990s, as well as its colors implicating the American, Cuban and Puerto Rican flags, all of great personal significance to González-Torres. 'The public is invited to take a candy, and it's up to the institution when to replenish the pile, so this pile gets smaller and smaller as the exhibition progresses,' Rigolo said. 'It's this beautiful metaphor for a body that is consumed and loses weight and gains weight again, this circle of illness, death and eventually rebirth. It also establishes this relationship with the visitors consuming the candy, so it's also this metaphor of the virus spreading.' Although Untitled (Para Un Hombre en Uniforme) is a loan from the Hessel Museum of Art at Bard College, most of the works in $3 Bill come from the archives of the Getty itself. The vast holdings of the Getty Research Institute include a library with nearly one million volumes, as well as major archives dedicated to Robert Mapplethorpe and Harmony Hammond, and records of Entendido, a magazine that ran from 1980-83 as the first publication by and for a gay readership in Venezuela. The exhibition starts in 1900, not long after the word 'homosexual' was first coined and brought into wider use, signaling a new era in defining queer lives versus straight ones. It is broken up into four periods – 1900 through Stonewall, the protest era of the 1970s, and Aids epidemic of the 1980s and then the 90s to present. 'It's much more colorful, bright and in your face than other Getty shows,' said Rigolo. 'The color scheme really makes clear the different times, different moods, and different areas you find yourself in – it's thanks to the great graphic design of Alan Konishi and Chaya Arabia.' One standout piece from the post-90s era is The Aids Chronicles, in which mostly female members of the Institute of Cultural Inquiry, a Los Angeles-based non-profit organization, collected every single front page from the New York Times from the 26 years from 1993 through 2019. They then painted each page with a deep red acrylic paint that looks like blood, sparing only headlines and stories that deal with the Aids epidemic. The result is a monumental work about erasure of the epidemic from the mainstream media, and one that remains relevant as the Times continues to contemporarily erase and spread misinformation about transgender lives. 'This is the first time that we have a chance to show material from the Institute of Cultural Inquiry, and The Aids Chronicles are placed right in the middle of the galleries,' said Rigolo. 'They're a total showstopper and a really, really interesting project.' Holdings from Hammond include the artist's magnificent and bewitching Hair Bags, which she made in the early 1970s, dedicating one to each member of her feminist consciousness-raising art group. Hammond actually used hair from the women in the group in the bags and intended them to remain as a set. These strange, groundbreaking pieces emerged out of a period in which the queer icon was experimenting more and more with making art bags, as well as moving closer to being out as a lesbian. 'She was very important not only as an artist, but also as a scholar and curator, particularly of lesbian art,' Rigolo said. The show also draws on the Getty's archives of the Johnson Publishing Company, which publishes major African American magazines such as Jet and Ebony. Issues in $3 Bill showcase pictures of Harlem drag balls from the 1940s and 1950s, treated with surprising dignity for the time. 'It's interesting how these events were covered in these magazines. The language they used would definitely not be considered PC by today's standards, but at the same time the tone seemed to be pretty open within certain boundaries.' One of the big successes about $3 Bill: Evidence of Queer Lives is that it's such a broadly encompassing show, offering the true diversity of the LBGTQ+ community. 'It's really a show that strives not only to present the accomplishments of our communities in the realm of art but also our presence and our significance in society overall,' said Rigolo. 'I'm really happy about how this show encompasses a very wide spectrum of sexualities and genders.' $3 Bill: Evidence of Queer Lives is on show at the Getty Center in Los Angeles until 28 September
