Milking the Milk Movie

MILK

Reviewed by Morris T. Pevensey, The Movie Critic Who Hates Everything

Morris T. Pevensey, Movie Critic Surprise, lovers of superior film! I have seen a mainstream Gollywood movie that I did not, as it were…hate! In fact, I thought that this film was very nearly good! Were it not for one glaring flaw, this movie might even qualify on the Morris-metre as Very Good Indeed! (Imagine!) The film in question is Milk starring Shawn Pen, and directed by Gus Vansant. Pen, an actor whom I usually find gratingly overwrought, whether playing a retarded surfer-bum (in Fast Time at Ridgeman High) or a retarded retard (in Sam I Am). In this bio-picture, Pen is nearly downright watchable. None of his over-the-top mannerisms are in evidence as they were in the
aforementioned films.

Milk tells the story of a man who, at the age of 40, decided he wanted to make the world a better place. After becoming known for fiery speeches (which earns him the nickname “the mayor of Caster Street”), he runs for Mayor of San Francisco, and soon embarks on a crusade to reform the city. The film is, dare I say, well-directed, spotlessly acted, and — this is the first time you will EVER hear this from Morris Pevensey’s lips — even heartwarming!

Woe! For into this paradise of competent, tasteful cinema, comes the serpent of doubt. I could not quite fathom what bothered me about both Pen’s portrayal of Harvey Milk, and the director’s general take on the character. Then it hit me. It was one small thing that soured me on the film’s tone, and one large thing that I cannot for the life of me fathom. The small thing is that the costume and hair technicians ought to have been FIRED! I haven’t seen hairstyles and clothes this outdated since the 1970s! Someone should tell the filmmakers that no-one wears clingy shirts, fringed jackets, belled-bottom dungarees or beads anymore. And the hairstyles were woefully recherche, consisting of giant feathery manes (not unlike the one a certain Morris Pevensey himself might have worn in his younger days! True! See for yourself!) One woman looked just like Farra Faucet, for gosh sake!

Morris Milk 70s Disco Fashion

The large thing, I regret to say, is that for some unfathomable reason, Shawn Pen insists on playing Harvey Milk for all the world as though he were some effete character. There were times when I could have sworn this fellow was more than a little “light in his loafers!” Sometimes, Pen walks across the room, not like a crusading politician but as a girly “swish!” Why does Pen have to play this hero-mayor as such a “Tommy Tiptoes” sort of fellow? Of all the ways to imagine this martyred do-gooder, it is typical of fashionably homophilic Hollywood to try to be “daring” and “cute” and depict a man’s man like Harvey Milk as a complete “tosher,” giggling and preening and wagging his derriere at crowds of hirsute sodomites!

I may not be as “post-modern” as some, but I think it is disgraceful to slander one of our nation’s slain leaders by showing him to be a “pansy” who enjoys the company of brawny “bippy-boys.” Everytime I began to sit back and enjoy the story, something would come out of Pen’s mouth that made him sound like an utter “puff-daddy!” A regular “timmy-titwillow!” When he and co-star Josh Brollin are at a dance together, I begin wondering to myself which one is “Arthur” and which one is “Martha!” Former Head of FBI Closet Homosexual? This “Milk” character is made to look as though he has no interest in the “fair” sex, but only for the “wear-chin-hair” sex! Is this a new trend in Hollywood? Will all our leadership icons become reimagined as “fairy-Marys?” I shudder to think what new biographys might come our way. Imagine Gus Vansant directing a film about J. Edgar Hoover, the man who safeguarded American values as head of the FBI! Would he be shown prancing about like a regular “sissy missy” ? And why stop at libeling our leaders? Why not make similar travesties about the lives of: great poets like W.H. Auden and Arthur Rimbaud, great composers like Tchaikovsky, legends of film like Rudolph Valentino and Charles Laughton! Heck, why not even do a biopic about Rock Hudson and “girlie” the fellow up? Morris T. Pevensey is in a right lather, Morris-fans! I am off to scrub myself clean of the taint of “The Love That Dare Not Speak My Name.” I will turn on my video projector, and curl up with some good old Hollywood classics.

(Ah! My favorite! Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?) This is Morris “Manly” Pevensey, signing off!*

* Morris T. Pevensey again. I regret to say, dear readers, that I may have come across in the above review as something of an anti-Sapphic bigot! Nothing could be further from the truth. Many actors in Hollywood are unabashed “fence-sitters” and I mean no disrespect to them. Why, even I enjoy a little swishy camp now and then from Hollywood’s legion of “fancy-Nancies!” I see nothing wrong with enjoying the naughty escapades of Redd Foxx, Bruce Willis, Vin Diesel, Jean-Claude Van Damn (tight pants on that one!) Jack Nicholson or The Rock (though I do find his name terribly suggestive!). I merely do not like to see the dead, who cannot defend themselves, portrayed as just so many “poofy-pants.” Why, I tuned in to see a good old-fashioned Western the other day, starring Heath Ledger, and…but enough! Till next time, cinephiliacs!