The Boys in the Band
The 2018 Broadway production of Mart Crowley’s The Boys in the Band was touted the first major staging of the groundbreaking 1968 play in which all the gay roles were filled by openly gay actors. That’s the ensemble that returns for the new Netflix movie version, and the casting is impeccable. The characters are an assortment of 1960s gay archetypes — the straight-acting guy, the promiscuous one, the flamer, the quiet man, the bitter wit — but the 2020 cast imbues each of them with humanity and depth, keeping Crowley’s oft-over-the-top drama from spinning off into eye-rolling territory.
As someone who has many times seen William Friedkin’s 1970 movie version — with the original Off-Broadway cast — as well as a well-reviewed 1990s Off-Broadway revival (which also had openly gay actors in the key roles), it’s hard for me to judge what a first-time viewer will make of this well-preserved nugget of pre-Stonewall gay life. It’s set at a birthday party for the acerbic Harold (Zachary Quinto), held in the apartment of the embittered Michael (Jim Parsons). The arrival of a distraught college chum, Alan (Brian Hutchison), gradually turns Michael into a nasty attack dog, snarling and nipping at all his guests. And that, in short, is the debate that shadows this play in every incarnation: Is it just Michael who’s self-loathing, or is the entire play an embarrassing self-portrait of pre-Pride gay America?
Parsons is the quintessential Michael, charming yet brittle, and he handles the character's increasing vile behavior with an undercurrent of regret. But it's the supporting cast who really keeps the second act from repulsing viewers. They play Michael’s vicious game at the same time they provide emotional anchors that ground the melodrama in deeper feelings. Matt Bomer is especially good as Michael’s best friend Donald, while Andrew Rannells and Tuc Watkins make a credibly mismatched but devoted couple. Charlie Carver (as a young hustler), Robin de Jesus (as flamboyant Emory), and Michael Benjamin Washington (as sensitive Bernard) have more two-dimensional roles but make the most of their few moments in the spotlight.
The weak link — and it’s not a fatal flaw — is Quinto’s Harold, a role written for and forever fused with actor Leonard Frey (who went on to play Motel in Fiddler on the Roof). Frey embodied the haughty, judgmental, clever Harold, while Quinto can merely perform him. To his credit, he tones down the role to fit his more measured style, but the effort also drains Harold of some of his power. It’s not a bad performance, it’s just that it’s the most labored work among a strong cast.
Does The Boys in the Band accurately reflect life for gay men in New York City in the mid 1960s? It’s a silly question. Does A Streetcar Named Desire represent mid-century straight life in New Orleans? Or Romeo and Juliet teen love in medieval Verona? Plays exaggerate and streamline and add poetry and drama; they don’t serve as sociological snapshots. So enjoy The Boys not as a slice of life from a half-century ago, but as the effort that it remains to make everything about that life bigger, funnier, sadder, and more dramatic. And notice not the differences from today, but the inner struggles that haven’t faded with time.
Grade: A-minus. Rated R. Debuts September 30 on Netflix.
(Photo: Netflix)
