De-coded Messages

I was recently watching a video about queer baiting in cinema, and it got me to thinking about movies I watched while growing up -- specifically, as a teenager -- that I felt contained gay subtext, but could've been interpreted as heterosexual (and often were) by others. The video touches upon this, noting that it happened frequently in post-code Hollywood, and is known as queer coding. One such movie that stands out in memory is 1955's Rebel Without a Cause.

I came out of the closet at age 17, though coming out is a process. There is often no immediacy to it, and simply stating one's sexuality to others of importance in their life can come with its own baggage. In retrospect, my experience was mostly free of drama and complications. By age 19, I was living on my own and, by age 20, I watched Rebel Without a Cause for the first time. That was in the mid-1990s and, by then, modern filmmaking had switched over to queer baiting, as opposed to coding. Watching the 1955 Rebel... , however, was still a subtle revelation to a young gay man trying to become comfortable with who he was.

The movie stars James Dean, the young, romantic heartthrob who made three movies and then died in an auto accident. Here he plays Jim, an angsty teenager who rebels against his parents, society, and the world. Natalie Wood is Judy, his peer and romantic interest. The trio of main characters is rounded-out by Sal Mineo, who is "Plato," another teen, who happens to have a photograph of a male actor in his school locker. The way in which Plato looks at Jim throughout the film is the definition of 'puppy-dog eyes.'

Watching Rebel Without a Cause some 40 years after its release, knowing that its lead actors were all dead, didn't stop me from 1) mildly crushing on Dean, and 2) having my heart go pitter-patter at the (by today's standards) super-mild scenes featuring homosexual undertones. Part of queer coding made it so that most straight people wouldn't even pick up on anything being amiss between two same-sex characters. Folks in the LGBT community, however, would likely get the message.

That's why, when Plato complains of being cold, and Jim offers him his jacket, I was sitting there, watching the film in my living, uttering an, "Awww," as my heart melted all over the place. It's also why, after the characters have endured a particularly rough evening, and Jim is obviously ready to call it a night, I grimaced in knowing-embarrassment as Plato nearly begs him to still hang out for the rest of the night. I got it: Plato loves him, and cherishes it whenever he and Jim are together. It doesn't matter what they're doing, as long as they are in each other's presence. I sat there thinking, 'I feel you, Plato, but maybe cool your jets?'

There were, of course, other films where I picked-up on something being up with the characters. Fright Night (1985), Rope, the Bewitched TV show -- heck, even this year's movie, Luca (though the filmmakers deny any intent). Those kinds of coded representations (intentional or otherwise) have certainly had their place of importance, but it's interesting how, as I've gotten older, and experienced more of life, becoming much comfortable in my own skin, how less of a reaction such things are able to provoke.

I rewatched Rebel Without a Cause maybe ten years ago, expecting it to be like revisiting some influential mentor, only to view it mostly with a shrug of the shoulders. So it goes. Perhaps that Thomas Wolfe adage of, "you can't go home again," is right? Our appreciation of certain things can most assuredly be due to their unique properties, but it can also be impacted by who we were at the time we were exposed to them. That 1955 James Dean classic made such an impression on me in the mid-1990s because of where I was in life. Alas, that can never quite be recaptured, though it isn't the movie's fault.