Laura Dern and Gay Men: Performing Gay Cinephilia at the Independent Spirit Awards AVNEET SHARMA Avneet Sharma loves the Cinema Studies program because he has gotten to write essays about Fleabag, Heathers, Stranger Things, Jane Fonda’s hair, Jean-Paul Belmondo’s ass, and (obviously) Laura Dern. 13 1 Before introducing the Gay Men’s Chorus of Los Angeles’ (GMCLA), and their performance at the 2020 Independent Spirit Awards, host Aubrey Plaza implored that queer representation in film is “more important than ever.” Yet the GMCLA’s performance that ensues does not necessarily reference queer films per se, but instead works to foreground the “gayest moments in other films that you may not have realized were gay.” The performance invokes such moments in various films as “J.Lo pole dancing to Fiona Apple” in Lorene Scafaria’s Hustlers (2019), “FKA Twigs talking about snakes” in Alma Har’el’s Honey Boy (2019), and Awkwafina receiving a rejection letter for a fellowship from the Guggenheim in Lulu Wang’s The Farewell (2019). Towards the end of the number, the GMCLA highlights “Laura Dern kicking her feet up on the couch” as a gay moment in Noah Baumbach’s Marriage Story (2019). Unlike other films highlighted—limited to only one lyric each—the number continues to ofer additional moments: “Laura Dern ordering a kale salad” and “Laura Dern dressed slutty in court,” culminating in the confirmation that the gay moment in Marriage Story is “just all of Laura Dern.” At this point, actor Laura Dern, seated in the audience, dances along as the GMCLA repeatedly chants “Laura Dern.” Watching this extended call and response performance, I felt a sense of validation, confirming a “suspicion” regarding the gayness of Dern, while simulatenously registering a straight woman’s performance in a film about the divorce of a heterosexual couple. A question emerges: what underlies the workings of the GMCLA performance to render Dern’s gayness unquestioned? I attempt to tease out this seeming contradiction in what follows by examining how Dern is constituted as a gay icon, how gay cinephilia informs the GMCLA’s performance at the Spirit Awards, and how their mobilization of the musical genre and accompanying clip show reveals unique modes of viewer engagement. Although my primary focus is Dern’s performance in Marriage Story and the specifics of GMCLA’s performance, Dern’s pre-existing 14 LAURA DERN AND GAY MEN status as a gay icon warrants attention. For example, Dern features in “The Puppy Episode” of the television series Ellen (1994-1998), in which both Ellen DeGeneres and her eponymous character come out as gay (Jung). Dern portrays Susan, an out lesbian who helps Ellen realize that she is gay. In this episode, Dern plays a dual role as the object of desire, considering Ellen is told from Ellen’s perspective, as well as the catalyst that brings Ellen’s gay identity to fruition. Roger Hallas argues how gay crush narratives on gay subjects involve “a complex negotiation between identification and desire and between idealization and recognition” (190). All of these elements are at play when one considers Dern’s role, although the nature of desire changes when distinguishing lesbian spectatorship from gay spectatorship. The former comprises sexual desire; Dern is the object of desire for Ellen and is, perhaps, the object of desire for the lesbian spectator. For gay men, desire manifests diferently; it would incorporate identification with Susan’s gayness while idealizing her outness. Exploring gay diva worship of Judy Garland, Richard Dyer contends that Garland could be understood as “in some sense androgynous, as a gender in-between” (165). The concept of androgyny is significant here, given the context of 21st century thought that conflated sexuality and gender so that “homosexuality is viewed as ‘in-between,’ an absence of heterosexuality which must go along with an absence of true or full masculinity or femininity” (165). Dern’s Susan, introduced in “The Puppy Episode” as a high-powered producer in a white pantsuit, occupies this androgynous space through her masculine attire, existing at the intersection between Dern and gay men. Of course, one could argue that Susan is not a reflection of Dern herself since she is simply playing a character in a television episode. Nevertheless, in a Vulture interview, Dern discloses that although she had spent “the next couple of years really struggling in work and safety,” she says: “what was amazing, which I will never forget, that when [DeGeneres] looked in my eyes, she said it was the first time she said ‘I’m gay’ out loud. [...] it makes me want to cry—the gift of that, the intimacy of what that means, was such insight for me” (Jung). Such quotations reveal the extent to which Dern connected with this character. Despite the fact that Susan was a role Dern adopted for the screen, she experienced strife and security issues that could approximate those of a gay person. Additionally, it is important to note Ellen’s shift from the fictional world of the Ellen show to the real world, when DeGeneres says the words “I’m gay” for the first time, is facilitated by Susan’s presence. In this instance, regardless of her coded straightness, Dern transcends 15 AVNEET SHARMA her signature heterosexuality, thus serving as a source of identification for both lesbians and gay men. Laura Dern’s character in Ellen, as a producer in a white pantsuit, should be considered in relation to her other projects, including Marriage Story. For one, I joined the cult of Laura Dern after witnessing her performance as Renata Klein in the drama series Big Little Lies (2017-2019). Once again, Dern, as Renata, dons pantsuits, and plays an aggressive, successful businesswoman. If, as Richard Dyer argues, gay spectatorship involves “idealization” of the subject, then how does idealization function with regards to Dern (190)? I would argue that an aspect of idealization emerges from Dern’s roles as women in positions of power in male-dominated fields, such as entertainment in Ellen, corporate business in Big Little Lies, and law in Marriage Story. Such exhibitions of power in male-dominated fields contribute to Dern’s androgynous image, which, Dyer claims functions as an apex for gay men’s identification with Judy Garland. Thus, GMCLA’s zoning in on the unique gayness of Dern’s performance in Marriage Story can be seen as on-the-mark. I would argue that Dern’s character, Nora, in this film occupies a pronounced relation to power and a heightened level of gayness, given her role as a divorce lawyer. Marriage Story follows the divorce of Nicole and Charlie, while they both discover how the process brings about further conflict. Despite this film’s coding as straight, with its focus on a heterosexual couple, Marriage Story could be read as gay if we consider divorce as the failure of heterosexuality. For one, Michael Warner argues that marriage itself is inherently heterosexual; not just due to debates surrounding same-sex marriage during the last century, but because of the inherent nature of the institution itself (81). Further, Warner refers to marriage as “selective legitimacy” that “sanctifies some couples at the expense of others” (82). He notes the many benefits awarded to married couples including tax benefits, provisions for inheritance, and wrongful death actions (87). Warner also highlights how anti-gay marriage discourse, prompted by a gay couple applying for a marriage license in Minnesota, “made the heterosexuality of marriage visible,” drawing attention to benefits that were not extended to gay couples (87). Rather than arguing for an assimilationist approach towards allowing gay people to marry, Warner argues against the institution of marriage altogether and the benefits that are unnecessarily linked to it. He builds his argument on the basis of queer thought, that “resist[s] any attempt to make the norms of straight culture into the standards by which queer life should be measured,” and he rejects institutions, such as marriage, that are 16 LAURA DERN AND GAY MEN “designed to reward those inside it and to discipline those outside it” (88, 89). In sum, marriage is both inherently heterosexual and elite. In this way, divorce—the dissolution of marriage—is the failure of heterosexuality. Relatedly, I would argue that Marriage Story appeals to a gay audience because it features the dissolution of the normative contract, through divorce, and by extension, the impossibility of heterosexuality. Dern’s character Nora, the lawyer who precipitates the divorce proceedings throughout the film, is thus framed as the harbinger of this impossibility. The GMCLA’s performance therefore celebrates a character who brings about the failure of heterosexuality, and the elitism of marriage, in a film ostensibly coded as heterosexual. Yet Dern’s performance as Nora doesn’t necessarily directly signal queerness. While Nora’s role certainly contributes to a queer reading of Marriage Story, the GMCLA’s performance isn’t focused on Marriage Story’s storyline nor its linearity. Instead, the performance chooses disparate moments throughout the narrative. Jordan Firstman, the number’s lyricist, initially planned to include only one mention of Dern’s performance in Marriage Story but realized one was not sufcient since “[t]here’s so many moments”—the song’s humour builds on the “enumeration of these many moments” (Reynolds). But what is a moment? For Hallas, the moment “ofered gay men a means to resist the typically normative trajectory and closure of the heterosexual romance fundamental to Hollywood narratives” (191). The overarching plot of the demise of Charlie and Nicole’s heterosexual romance would not directly appeal to a gay cinephile. In Hallas’s view, the gay spectator derives pleasure from momentary viewing.