The legendary Lana Turner was fortunate enough to count the handsome Lex Barker, one of the movie Tarzans, among her husbands. (He was quite a specimen, if you can't quite remember him.) After their wedding, a reporter asked Miss Turner (only in Hollywood are you still “Miss” immediately after the wedding): “What’s the first thing you’re gonna do on your honeymoon, Lana?”
And Miss Turner, gloating over her brand-new cutie-pie husband like a glutton over a bucket of fried chicken, said: “I’m just gonna look at him for a while.”
Trust me, I am the last person in the world to believe in Hollywood romance. I was born just before the whole Eddie Fisher / Debbie Reynolds / Elizabeth Taylor fiasco, and I think there must have been something in the air in those days that conferred immunity to studio publicity.
But I get all mooshy when I see photos like the above.
You’ve got to understand that gay people have never had the opportunity to see nice pictures of our favorite gay stars cavorting down the steps of the Elvis Chapel after getting hitched. Heaven knows we didn’t even have “favorite gay stars” (although we know very well now who was who and what was what – don’t we, Tab Hunter?).
I am the last person in the world to insist on Rita Moreno’s Law (“Stick to your own kind”). Gay people can act straight and vice versa. I am in a paralysis of joy when I watch the oopsy-daisy delicacy of Eric Stonestreet portraying Cam on “Modern Family.” And Neil Patrick Harris is satisfyingly straight ‘n sleazy on “How I Met Your Mother,” and did an adorable straight ‘n sentimental in the “Dr. Horrible” series.
But it is immensely satisfying to see gay people on the screen, and point at them, and holler: “Comrade!”
So, when I see Neil Patrick Harris arm in arm with his partner David Burtka, and David Hyde Pierce with Brian Hargrove, and Alan Cumming with Grant Shaffer, and Jane Lynch at the Emmys with her new wife Lara Embry, I shed a genuine tear of joy.
I have no illusions that these are perfect relationships. There ain’t no such animal. But I rejoice that we get to see those incandescent moments of happiness, those brightly-lit newlywed photo ops, for gay couples too.
Finally we – gay people! possessors of a genetic predisposition for movie appreciation! – get to moon over romantic Hollywood photo spreads and say: “Don’t George Takei and his husband look nice in their white tuxes?”
The above picture, with its double punch of domestic bliss and Star Trek nostalgia, hits me with a double whammy. It's delicious. It's a moment of pure perfect bliss in an ocean of Tea Party insanity.
I'm with Miss Turner. I'm just gonna look at it for a while.
