The straight truth

Despite TV's craze for gays, it is those who aren't who are stealing the show

By Joanna Weiss, Globe Staff, 9/2/2003

The way things have gone this summer, you might think straight guys are over -- kaput, gone, so very 2002. The TV buzz is all about the gay men on Bravo: the Fab Five of "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy," the men-on-the-prowl of "Boy Meets Boy," the gay dating show that wraps up tonight at 9.

But for a dose of reality, think about this. The focus of "Boy Meets Boy" won't be leading man James, struggling with his final choice. It'll be Franklin, quite possibly a straight man in disguise. Will he crack under pressure, stumble at last? Turn away if James tries to smooch him?

Likewise, the best moments of "Queer Eye" haven't been the wisecracks or the decorating tips, but the straight-man moments of truth. The Port Authority cop who confronted his fears and stood beside a gay man in a tanning booth. The production assistant who got his back waxed and howled like a 5-year-old who'd just gotten spanked.

Gay men might be the toast of the town these days, making headlines and appearances on MTV. But the straight guys are the protagonists, the ones with the epiphanies and deepest secrets. And across the dial this summer, we're getting a whole new view of them: as vulnerable and insecure, remarkably compliant, and sorely in need of a lesson or two. The gay men might be lovely window dressing, but the straight guys are stealing the show.

It stands to reason, really. The gay leads on such shows as "Queer Eye" and "Will & Grace" are catty, self-aware, and entertaining, but they aren't exactly shattering stereotypes. There's nothing wrong with that, if we're all having fun. But everything still feels held at arm's length. On "Queer Eye," as the credits suggest, the Fab Five live on "Gay Street," and venture onto "Straight Street" only when duty calls. Then they retreat back to Gayville to watch their handiwork on high-tech video equipment.

Each straight-guy denouement is the highlight of the show, and the heart of its pleasure: taking men who have grown comfortable in soft, straight lives, and shaking them back into self-awareness. The straight guys of "Queer Eye" are the sort who still own Metallica T-shirts, who never learned to shave with the grain, and -- more to the point -- would probably have tormented the gay kids on the junior high school playground. Now, their lives have reached turning points: a breakup, a marriage proposal, a girlfriend moving in. And suddenly, they find that they need the gay men's help.

These onetime lugs are compellingly patient, content to be thwacked with pellets of wit, obediently, following the Fab Five's orders. And once their unibrows are waxed and their wardrobes reconfigured, they tend to have new attitudes to match. Last week, bulky George, whose Bon Jovi hair had been chopped and gelled beyond recognition, declared that he loved not just his new look, but his "five new friends."

"Queer Eye" delivers these lessons without too much saccharine -- unlike "Boy Meets Boy," which is about as subtle as a vodkatini in a biker bar. Here, the straight guys are billed as the evildoers, imposters who deceive the earnest James in pursuit of a cash prize. But as each one is eliminated in turn, he spouts off a few platitudes about finally understanding what it's like to be in the closet.

An overstatement, it's clear, but least they're learning something. And at least they're worth watching, unlike James, who is cute and well-meaning but doesn't have much in the way of personality. (When he learns he's been deceived, the most he can muster is a tight smile and a "Wow.")

A more compelling set of leading men are the stars of Fox's disturbingly addictive soap, "The O.C." There's something different here from the standard prime-time melodrama: It's not about the women, who are as chiseled and high-cheekboned as expected, but the men, in all of their angst-ridden, straight guy glory.

It figures that straight men wouldn't fit into a world of charity events and Prada footwear, and it's refreshing to see the glitz through their eyes. Besides, these guys don't fit the standard straight guy TV molds, testosterone-y Priestleys, intellectual Van Der Beeks. They're goofy, self-effacing couch cases, constantly flummoxed by the women around them. Peter Gallagher, as a Jewish '60s liberal in WASP heaven, struggles to keep up with his porcelain wife. Adam Brody, as his son, can barely speak to the girl of his dreams. Tate Donovan is so cowed by his shopping-mad wife and daughters that he's taken to embezzling.

As the transplant from Chino, Benjamin McKenzie is the token straight stereotype, a scrappy little guy in the Luke Perry mold. He holds his head cocked to one side, speaks under his breath when he speaks at all, and communicates mainly through morally justified punches. Sometimes, he even fends women off.

In time, he'll get soft like the others -- learn to tie a tie, develop a taste for foie gras. Orange County seems to do that to people, and the gorgeous girl next door would prefer him that way. The question is whether he can get the girl without losing the rebel spirit. This being a drama, he'll figure it out on his own. But it's the sort of predicament that, in a parallel universe, might have made a great case for the Fab Five. Queer Eye for the Teen Idol Guy? On today's TV, why not? But make no mistake about who would be the star.