Saturday, January 14, 2006
Hugging and Slapping
I've still not seen Brokeback Mountain but daily promise myself that treat. Meanwhile, Chip Gibbons' binary circumstantial blog is all the reading I need to keep abreast of reviews and opinions. Incidentally, I see that we both posted the hilarious Kickback Mountain spoof poster on the same day: me recycling an uncredited post from a Hong Kong pal, Chip being honorable and giving credit to Corey Anderson's City Pages. As I say, Chip's eagle-eyed choice of reviews from across the spectrum enables me to be lazy and sit back and enjoy. One in particular reminded me of a recent drastic change vis-à-vis my hugging style. Chip quotes Leonard Pitts' measured assessment in his Miami Herald column of Why Brokeback Mountain Threatens Some Fans, in particular I recently posted my impressions of the very funny Second Best DVD and commented on the special features commentary between Poe Pantoliano and the writer/director. At one point, grouchy writer Elliot and best-friend Richard (Boy Gaines) exchange a manly long-time-no-see hug about which Pantoliano passes a shrewd observation: They embrace, ending with the statutory double thump on each other's back. Pantoliano points out that the reason why men do this is - and I paraphrase - because when men hug something soft they get 'aroused', so we need the reassurance of that corrective masculine thump. I have no idea if it's true but I certainly included it, and always felt a bit of a twit in the bargain. Being English and of dour northern stock where even delayed eye contact can be suspect, I don't think I'd *ever* hugged anyone of the same sex until my future father-in-law enfolded me in a warm embrace on being asked for the hand of his daughter. In Greece, everyone hugs everyone, along with stubbly rasp of cheek and a brief unselfconscious kiss. When, after six happy years, I was ejected from Coercia.com ("Customer Care to the Gentry"), I left so many good pals behind that I now enfold each one on our rare reunions - *minus* that silly tap. The exceptions are fellow Brit expat pals dotted around Seattle: with those, of course, it's a firm handshake, gaze averted. "I say, steady on, mate! Blimey, we *have* gone native!" On the same topic, "Wedding Crashers" has a sly jibe at that awkward protruding-bum clasp one does at the end of a dud date: that, too, has gone, replaced by firm hip grinder."... that ick factor. I find myself wondering if this primeval revulsion doesn’t speak less to our antipathy toward homosexuality than to our fears about masculinity."
