Why 1980s Action Films are so Gay, and Why it Matters
Action films have long been a vessel to display peak masculinity, and in no decade is this as prevalent as in the 1980s. In both an industry and genre dominated by male voices, views, and bodies; the box-office-smashing, grenade-throwing, musclebound flicks of the likes of Stallone and Schwarznegger were offering audiences a visceral (if borderline parodied) view of manhood. In an America finding its feet again after the Vietnam war, and on a return to right wing ideology and economics spearheaded by Hollywood’s own Ronald Reagan, action cinema found its place as a patriotic, testosterone fuelled, white knuckled shrine to the American man.
These films are unapologetically wild and ridiculous, and make for exhilarating viewing to this day, but also retroactively offer an alternative view on their intended macho messaging. It is very hard to watch these scantily-clad, sweat drenched men grapple in the mud, fire explosive cylindrical objects, and neglect the women in their lives in the pursuit of each other, without asking: “Isn’t this pretty gay?”.
At this stage, it is important for me to define my intentions. I am not necessarily claiming that the characters of these films were written as closeted homosexuals, nor did the filmmakers have some hidden gay agenda. The purpose of this viewing of these films is an examination of the phenomena itself, an exploration of the psychological processes that occur when watching films, and a critique of the power structures surrounding them.
It is also important to distinguish my terms. Homosexual and homoerotic are not synonymous. Positing that certain characters display desire towards each other is not a deliberation on their sexuality, and does not exist within a binary system of attraction or gender. Homosociality (platonic friendship between members of the same gender) and homosexuality are points on a spectrum, neither of which either guarantees or excludes homoeroticism.
The United States began the 1980’s in an unstable position, with public faith in the presidency rattled after a public defeat in Vietnam [1] and a mediocre democratic presidency under Jimmy Carter [2]. This created space for the ‘New Right’, a right wing demographic who had steadily gained weight and influence since the mid 60s and was largely anti-LGBT[3]. They were responding to the wave of social liberalism that swept the country in the 60s and 70s, and it was this fear of change that pushed them to support Ronald Reagan, who took office in 1981.
Almost as soon as Reagan’s presidency started, AIDS broke out in America. A disease that was quickly identified as largely affecting gay men[4], this epidemic led to a confused response from the American public. Since homosexuality was still very much taboo for a lot of Americans, particularly the New Right; much of the media, scientific, and political response to the epidemic was at best insensitive and at worst accusatory. Raegan’s advisor future White House Communications Director Pat Buchanan described the disease as “nature… exacting an awful retribution” on gay people[5]. Many news outlets published horrific attacks against the gay community, the New York Times Sunday Magazine describing straight victims of the disease as ‘innocent bystanders’ caught in the path of a disease for which gay people are to blame[6].
There was not a unanimously combative response towards the gay community. Many health and community groups launched public service campaigns to raise visibility, awareness, and safety around the disease. Much of this was specifically targeting gay men, encouraging safe sex and promoting visibility. However, federally-funded campaigns, aimed towards a much wider demographic, were accused of not accurately communicating the vastly increased risk of infection for gay men, resulting in much of the public medical funding going towards less vulnerable communities, leaving LGBT groups to fight over what little remained[7].
This confusing, terrifying and paranoid period in American medical history resulted in the gay community receiving a huge amount of attention, which was rarely sympathetic. Homophobic trends in the media and politics exacerbated misconceptions and judgements about the nature of the disease and infection[8] which went on to embolden homophobic abuse, severely damaging the fledgling gay civil rights movement[9].
Returning to Reagan himself, it is vital to acknowledge that he made his first public appearances as a 1940s film star. Through a prolific film career during a time in which Hollywood was enjoying its heyday as an unstoppable force of industry, Reagan became very aware of how this system worked and what purpose it served within American society. Following the war, Hollywood’s influence was waning, largely fueled by the advent of TV in the 1960s. However, the 1970s saw the bicentennial of the United States as a nation, and with this came a wave of nostalgia, a wave that was ridden by both Hollywood and Reagan, catapulting them both back into the public eye and admiration.
Films like American Graffiti (1973) and Back to the Future (1985) capitalised on this cultural nostalgia, returning audiences to the 1950s, a time where life was good and milkshakes were cold, a time when they might have seen Ronald Reagan on the big screen. Reagan’s 1980 presidential campaign slogan was ‘Let’s Make America Great Again’. Reagan and Hollywood were vital for each other in this time, with each one fanning the flames of a cultural trend that the other was benefitting from[10].
The 1980s were a confusing time for America. A period of intense political and social change in the midst of a health crisis that plunged the country into paranoia and ostracised an already vulnerable section of its population. All of this playing against a media industry and a president who were both in pursuit of the same cultural vision, a return to when things were simpler, when America was Great. It is no surprise that all of this resulted in a masculinization of Hollywood[11], elevating images of tough, violent, ripped men who became both moral and aesthetic status symbols.
I am also not surprised at how gay these films have become in retrospect. It is impossible to separate the massive public awareness of the gay community, possibly more than ever before, and the reactionary shift in male beauty standards that came about as a result. The cultural headspace was so confused that it is no wonder that these films came out just as confused. This sexual panic, this male fetishisation, this bi-curiosity of the Hollywood machine left us with a fascinating mess on our hands, and in my case, a desire to understand how it works.
To be able to fully untangle this mess of sexual representation, it is vital to understand the tools, both conscious and subconscious, that we use when watching these films. The reason why it is possible for these wildly different readings to come from the same films is because of these layers of interpretation that we apply to our viewing. I would like to touch on a few of the more relevant ones.
First off is the male gaze. By now a familiar theory, first presented in cinematic terms by film theorist Laura Mulvey in 1975[12]. It is the assumption that both the camera and the audience are coming from a heterosexual male perspective, and therefore any sexualisation or fetishisation must therefore be conducted for the benefit of a man. Mulvey’s theory also establishes a division of labour in classic Hollywood films, whereby the male lead is responsible for advancing the plot and making key decisions, whereas the female lead functions as a spectacle.
There are some interesting conclusions to be drawn from this theory when applied to 1980s action cinema. Since the blockbuster films of this time were dominated with images of violence and combat, the patriarchy assumes that these acts can only be performed by a man (with some notable exceptions). This, coupled with Hollywood’s new image of masculinity, meant that this male action hero became both the figure responsible for advancing the plot, as well as a sexual spectacle. Now that our male leads have become objects of desire, the male gaze leads us to the conclusion that the sexualised male figures are being displayed for the benefit of a male camera and audience, making the interaction homoerotic.
A great example of this is Top Gun (1986), probably the most cited film when the subject of homoeroticism comes up. In the most iconic scene from the film, the group of male leads have a rousing game of volleyball on a beach. Scantily clad and boasting macho confidence, this scene, and the characters in it, are often described as being very gay. Compare this to a scene in 2003’s Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle, in which the Angels are going undercover at a beach. While Cameron Diaz and Demi Moore’s interaction is constructed to have some sexual energy, this is purely for the gratification of the male viewer and so is not interpreted as a homoerotic scene. The actual content of these scenes are not too different, and the scene in Charlie’s Angels contains far more overt sexual content between the characters, yet despite this, Top Gun is continually seen as homoerotic, due to the male characters being displayed for a male audience.
Another key lens to be aware of is Queer Theory. In essence, this is a framework developed by queer theorists that actively subverts societal norms of gender and sexuality. Queer Theory posits that if we refuse to engage with media from a heteronormative perspective, it opens the door for society to redefine its expectations and creates space for queer people to exist and express themselves. This can be a great learning tool, demonstrating the ridiculous perception that people are always men or women, and are always straight. This retroactive use of Queer Theory is also a way of reclaiming some of this work that was made in a homophobic, transphobic, and misogynistic culture.
One of the best examples of this brand of filmmaking is Point Break (1991), directed by Kathryn Bigelow. The film follows Johnny Utah (Keanu Reeves), a fresh faced FBI agent tasked with tracking down a notorious group of bank robbers who his partner suspects are surfers. Utah goes undercover in the surfing community, meeting Bodhi (Patrick Swayze), a charismatic, quazi-prophetic, adrenaline junkie who takes Utah under his wing. Soon, we discover that Bodhi is the leader of this group of bank robbers, and Utah must chase down his new friend and bring him to justice.
Point Break is often brought up when this subject is raised, and the best way to see why is by laying out the story beats. A man meets another man who leads a very different lifestyle to himself. The two men find themselves enamoured with each other and the first man finds himself drawn towards this new, exciting way of life that has been presented to him. Conflict arises as the man must grapple with his old way of life and these new feelings, resulting in confrontation and rejection. Even without laying it out in these somewhat clunky terms, while watching the film it is clear to see that Utah and Bodhi’s relationship is not simply that of the rivalling protagonist and antagonist.
Bodhi represents a change for Utah, a window into a world he’s never even noticed before, and finds that something inside him echoes Bodhi’s convictions. From the opening sequence, an alluringly sensual montage of Bodhi catching some waves while Utah completes an FBI training course in the rain, these two are presented as sexual figures. This extends throughout the film, with the cinematography and editing making it explicitly clear when Utah is staring (longingly?) at Bodhi, which happens in most scenes they share. There are many more examples of this subliminal sexual tension between the characters, most notably, the iconic mid-point scene when Utah first realises that Bodhi is one of the criminals.
At the culmination of a tense, handheld foot chase, Utah injures his knee and is unable to chase after the masked Bodhi who starts climbing a fence. Utah aims his gun, but is drawn (here we cut to an extreme close up) into Bodhi’s striking blue eyes. Realising his adversary is his new friend, Utah is unable to shoot, instead firing his gun repeatedly into the air while screaming in frustration. This scene is often read as Utah being given his first chance to fully commit to this new life that Bodhi is presenting (in the film, it is engaging with this life of high adrenaline and action, in the reading it is acting on his homoerotic desire), and his reluctance and inability to follow through culminates in a masturbatory act (firing his gun) in which he attempts to purge himself of this desire.
All of these elements converge into a convincing argument for a homoerotic reading of Point Break. It is a prime example of how Queer Theory can be used to reinterpret a text to provide a subversive perspective. Point Break breaks little ground filmically, but it is the overbearing sexual tension between the male leads (far more than Utah ever has with Lori Petty’s Tyler, his supposed love interest) that ultimately offers a surprisingly progressive story of male attraction within a fluid sexual space. Utah is repeatedly shown to be attracted to Tyler, but also has this alluring tension with Bodhi, suggesting a potential bisexuality. Bodhi mentions that he had previously had a relationship with Tyler, and at one point tells Utah: ‘what’s mine is yours’, which (troubling rhetoric of sexual ownership aside), suggests a free love, polyamorous atmosphere between the central cast.
Perhaps I’m getting carried away, but after watching the film and approaching it with Queer Theory, it is hard to see it as anything but a radical story of temptation and desire, a film that (accidentally) offers a perspective on sexuality that is years ahead of anything being made today and one that many are too scared (or embarrassed) to admit is plain to see.
I hope that by now the affection I feel towards these films as well as these alternate readings of them is clear. However, I would like to stress that my feelings about this go beyond just my enjoyment of the films and the discussion surrounding them. I strongly believe that these films, their ability to be interpreted like this, and our ability to hold discourse around them is an indication of the strong link between art and cultural consciousness.
These films came about as a symptom of societal unease, not only the AIDS crisis and the shifting political landscape, but also a readjustment of the masculine role within society. Increased industrialisation and computerisation affected the safety of the paradigm of the ‘breadwinner’ within the nuclear family[14]. Financial, and with it, social power was being slowly taken away from many men, in a time when the aesthetic perception of masculinity was also in flux. This was a big contributor to the masculinisation of Hollywood, and in an attempt to create an all-male world within these stories, it inadvertently created one of homoeroticism and fluidity. This cause and effect that resulted in the exact opposite of the intended effect, is a prime example of power structures trying, and failing, to bend artistic expression to their will.
Whether or not there was a specific, concerted, effort from the powers that be to create this hyper-masculine trend in filmmaking, there was a rebalance of power structures within society that created a market to appeal to the bruised egos of white, straight, cis men. Over time, the work that was initially intended to reinforce damaging perceptions and structures, became subversive explorations of marginalised experiences, giving a clear example that art is what we make it. It is impossible to create work that promotes a certain lifestyle, personality, value, or body, without immediately leaving it open to be reinterpreted and reclaimed by those who are excluded by its representation.
The fact that these films are multi-million dollar blockbusters both supports this (the more widespread an art form is, the more accessible it is to many different perspectives) but is also indicative of a wider point. The mere fact that work created to satisfy a wide section of the population has been reimagined in line with marginalised attitudes is both a testament to the strength of these readings and an additional weapon to be used against cultural hegemony.
The reclamation of work intended to reinforce a status quo is a demonstration of the inherent flaws of that status quo. If something is so fragile that it requires constant upkeep, allowing itself to be subverted and criticised, then it can’t be all that great. To people who had never before considered alternate readings of some of the most financially successful art in the past half century, merely suggesting that things are not as they seem can plant a seed of doubt in the previously held convictions that these films aim to reinforce.
All in all, not only is this a fun exercise surrounding some very fun films, but it is an exploration of the possibilities of the medium and an examination of art itself. How we view work can vary wildly depending on the differences in the world in which it was made and the world we are viewing it from. The world has changed, and we are now able to see things in a different light.
Unfortunately, this era of filmmaking has ended. By the time the 90s rolled around, masculinity had somehow become even more fragile, requiring the male characters to not display any degree of fondness for each other, at least without a hasty remark confirming their heterosexuality. Despite the tragic loss of this particular brand of action film, these readings endure, and the revelations that they bring will continue to embolden filmmakers to make subversive work and challenge societal norms.
“I know, Johnny. I know you want me so bad it’s like acid in your mouth. But not this time” - Patrick Swayze, Point Break
Bibliography:
[1]Ken Burns, Lynn Novak (2017) ‘How the Vietnam War Broke the American Presidency’. Available at: https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2017/10/how-americans-lost-faith-in-the-presidency/537897/ (Accessed 19/04/2023)
[2]Burton Ira Kaufman, Scott Kaufman (1993) ‘The Presidency of James Earl Carter, Jr’, University Press of Kansas
[3]Vicki L. Eaklor (2015) ‘New Right’, glbtq, inc
[4](2016) ‘HIV Among Gay and Bisexual Men’. Available at: https://web.archive.org/web/20161218225712/https://www.cdc.gov/hiv/pdf/group/msm/cdc-hiv-msm.pdf (Accessed 19/04/2023)
[5]Igor Volsky (2011) 'FLASHBACK - Buchanan: AIDS Is Nature’s ‘Awful Retribution’ Against Homosexuality’. Available at: https://archive.thinkprogress.org/flashback-buchanan-aids-is-natures-awful-retribution-against-homosexuality-2049a2734cfb/ (Accessed 19/04/2023)
[6](1983) ‘Congressional Remarks about AIDS’. Available at: https://go.gale.com/ps/i.do?p=AHSI&u=uniportsmouth&id=GALE%7CUGPDSN162865082&v=2.1&it=r&sid=bookmark-AHSI&asid=9364efd3 (Accessed 19/04/2023)
[7]Natasha Geiling (2013) ‘The Confusing and At-Times Counterproductive 1980s Response to the AIDS Epidemic’. Available at: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-confusing-and-at-times-counterproductive-1980s-response-to-the-aids-epidemic-180948611/ (Accessed 19/04/2023)
[8]Justin McCarthy (2019) ‘Gallup Vault: Fear and Anxiety During the 1980s AIDS Crisis’. Available at: https://news.gallup.com/vault/259643/gallup-vault-fear-anxiety-during-1980s-aids-crisis.aspx (Accessed 19/04/2023)
[9]Erin Ruel, Richard T. Campbell (2006) ‘Homophobia and HIV/AIDS: Attitude Change in the Face of an Epidemic’, Oxford University Press
[10]Alissa Wilkinson, J. Hoberman (2019) ‘How ’80s Hollywood and Ronald Reagan fueled each other — and paved the way for Trump’. Available at: https://www.vox.com/culture/2019/8/29/20826545/hoberman-make-my-day-interview-hollywood-reagan-trump (Accessed 19/04/2023)
[11]Susan Jeffords (1994) ‘Hard Bodies: Hollywood Masculinity in the Reagan Era’, Rutgers University Press
[12]Laura Mulvey (1975) ‘Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema’, Screen
[13]M.D. Kibby (1997) ‘Real Men: Representations of Masculinity in the Eighties Cinema’, Western Sydney University Thesis
