Copyright by Alexandra Lynn Barron 2005
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Copyright By Alexandra Lynn Barron 2005 The Dissertation Committee for Alexandra Lynn Barron certifies that this is the approved version of the following dissertation: Postcolonial Unions: The Queer National Romance in Film and Literature Committee: __________________ Lisa Moore, Supervisor __________________ Mia Carter __________________ Janet Staiger __________________ Ann Cvetkovich __________________ Neville Hoad Postcolonial Unions: The Queer National Romance in Film and Literature by Alexandra Lynn Barron, B.A.; M.A. Dissertation Presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of the University of Texas at Austin in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy The University of Texas at Austin May 2005 For my mother who taught me to read and made sure that I loved it. Acknowledgments It is odd to have a single name on a project that has benefited from so many people’s contributions. I have been writing these acknowledgments in my head since I began the project, but now that the time is here to set them down I am a bit at a loss as to how to convey how truly indebted I am. To start, I would like to thank Sabrina Barton, Mia Carter, Ann Cvetkovich, Neville Hoad, and Janet Staiger for their insights, for their encouragement, and for teaching me what it means to be an engaged scholar. Lisa Moore has been a teacher, a writing coach, a cheerleader, and a friend. She approached my work with a combination of rigor and compassion that made this dissertation far better than it would have been without her guidance. I could not have done this without her. I have been lucky enough to find colleagues in my program who have inspired, encouraged, and supported me throughout this process. Ellen Crowell, Jeanette Herman, Casey McKittrick, Sue Mendelsohn, Vim Pasupathi, and Ashley Shannon have each saved my life in various ways on occasions too numerous to mention. Liz Brenner, Jess Olive, Kyre Osborn, and Kerry Shehan have always been there to remind me that there is a world outside of school and have remained my good friends despite years of listening to my graduate school angst. I thank them all. My family continued to believe that one day I would finish this thing I was writing and did not keep asking when that would be even though they must have wondered. For that I thank Anath Garber, Karina Barron, Michael Barron, Eugene Barron, and Janice and Stephen Knauth. I am especially grateful to my grandparents Ray v and June Evers who made graduate school much easier than it would have been without their help. I wish my grandfather had lived to see me graduate but I take comfort in the fact that he had enough faith in me to know that I would finish. Although she still maintains that she was not sure I would graduate high school, my mother, Susan Evers, is the person who is most responsible for me receiving my Ph.D. She gave me my love of stories and she also taught me, through her example, the pleasure of education for its own sake. Finally, I would never have been able to complete this project without Camile Pahwa who put up with me throughout, helped me through the worst spots, gave me some of the better ideas contained within, and is simply my favorite. vi Postcolonial Unions: The Queer National Romance in Film and Literature Publication No. _______ Alexandra Lynn Barron, Ph.D. The University of Texas at Austin, 2005 Supervisor: Lisa Moore In my dissertation I investigate how romance functions both generically and ideologically in texts depicting same-sex unions. I argue that the novels and films in this study use the romantic union as a way of intervening in discussions about what constitutes citizenship. While the national romance has often obscured legitimate conflicts and oversimplified complex political debates, I contend that these queer romances can persuade audiences to re-imagine the nation in new ways. For instance, the film My Beautiful Laundrette (1985) allegorizes the nation via a same-sex couple and uses the generic conventions of the romance to position audiences to desire a union between groups in conflict. Consequently, it creates a fantasy of an inclusive kind of citizenship that it presents as possible and appealing. Thus, besides drawing attention to the romance’s political potential, my project contributes a new generic term—the queer national romance—to the lexicon of literary and film studies. vii The national romance emerged in the eighteenth century as a literary genre in which star-crossed lovers from opposing nations—usually an imperial power and its colony—marry, healing the conflict between their respective communities. I argue that this narrative form found new life in queer postcolonial fiction and film in the late twentieth century. Like traditional national romances these texts solicit affective identification on the part of the spectator and negotiate a specific historical and cultural struggle, conflict, or anxiety about the status of the nation or the identity of the national citizen; but instead of centering on a heterosexual couple these texts focus on same-sex romantic unions. My study is the first to identify the national romance at work in texts depicting same-sex unions, and it illustrates their potential to make space in the national imaginary for queer citizens. Moreover, I am the first to argue that the national romance can work in both politically progressive and reactionary ways. Beyond intervening in literary debates about the national romance, I contribute to a growing body of work that examines the interconnections between nationalism, sexuality, and transnationalism, all the while grounding these theoretical issues in concrete discussions of genres. viii TABLE OF CONTENTS Introduction: Queer Unions, Transnational Citizens………………………………..…1 1: The Queer National Romance Defined: Fantasies of Union in My Beautiful Laundrette and The Crying Game …………………………………………………32 2: Imperial Cruising: National Romance and National Melancholy in The Swimming- Pool Library ……………………………………………………………….…….. 74 3: Impossible Unions: Funny Boy and the Queer National Romance that Isn’t…..…126 4: The Female National Romance: Fire’s Queer Anti-Communalism………………176 Conclusion…………………………………………………………………………...230 Works Cited………………………………………………………………………….234 Filmography………………………………………………………………………….244 Vita…………………………………………………………………………………...247 ix Introduction: Queer Unions, Transnational Citizens Where the political terrain can neither resolve nor suppress inequality, it erupts in culture. Because culture is the contemporary repository of memory, of history, it is through culture, rather than government, that alternative forms of subjectivity, collectivity, and public life are imagined.1 We need to know where we live in order to imagine living elsewhere. We need to imagine living elsewhere before we can live there.2 When we first see the laundrette referred to in the title of Hanif Kureishi and Stephen Frears’ film, it is anything but beautiful. Like the other settings in My Beautiful Laundrette (1985), the establishment’s dinginess and dilapidation are central to the film’s critique of the grim economic realities of Margaret Thatcher’s England.3 But the film’s protagonists, the lovers Johnny and Omar, soon transform the space as they smash walls; cover graffiti with pastel paint; and bring in plants, music, and light. Although other locations in the film continue to be depicted in a mode of gritty realism, everything inside the laundrette registers as fantasy. The interior’s bright colors, dramatic lighting, and non-diegetic bubbly soundtrack alert us to the difference between the film’s two visual and narrative styles. My Beautiful Laundrette uses the relationship between the two lovers—a British-born, middle-class Pakistani and an ex-National Front, working-class white punk—to create an allegory of Thatcher’s England that unites some of the nation’s most disparate groups: blacks and whites, the rising middle class and the working class, and the racist and the immigrant. However, the union between Johnny and Omar cannot actually bridge the divides separating them in a realist narrative. Kureishi and Frears, therefore, blend realism with fantasy, creating a hybrid work that demonstrates the 1 potential of the queer romance to re-imagine the nation. One of the primary reasons for the film’s widespread popularity, I argue, is its decision to queer the national romance; the catharsis audiences experience as painful rifts are healed in a love story helped to make My Beautiful Laundrette one of the most successful British films of the decade. The national romance emerged in the eighteenth century as a literary genre in which star-crossed lovers from opposing nations—usually an imperial power and its colony—marry, healing the conflict between their respective communities. I contend that this narrative form found new life in queer postcolonial fiction and film in the late twentieth century. By creating a national romance with a same-sex couple at its center, My Beautiful Laundrette inaugurated the genre I call the queer national romance. These films include The Crying Game (1992), The Wedding Banquet (1993), Fire (1996), Aimee and Jaguar (1999), and Borstal Boy (2001).4 They join novels such as The Swimming-Pool Library (1988), Funny Boy (1994), and At Swim, Two Boys (2001) in creating a space for queer revisions of the national romance.5 Like traditional national romances these texts solicit affective identification on the part of the spectator and negotiate a specific historical and cultural struggle, conflict, or anxiety about the status of the nation or the identity of the national citizen, but instead of centering on a heterosexual couple these texts focus on same-sex romantic unions. Thus, my study contributes a new generic term—the queer national romance—to the lexicon of literary and film studies while drawing attention to texts in which old notions of citizenship based on heterosexual lineage give way, in the new transnational context, to an expanded definition of the global citizen as desiring subject.