Cruising (1980)

(Criterion Streaming, August 2021) In Hollywood history, Cruising is notable for its contribution to queer cinema… and that’s not often meant as a compliment. Featuring Al Pacino as a (heterosexual) policeman asked to go undercover in New York City’s gay community to draw out a serial killer, the film created a storm of controversy upon release. The then-risqué subject matter was attacked as cheap exploitation by conservative pundits, but gay commentators also saw it as a terrible representation of NYC’s gay community as being dominated by BDSM enthusiasts. Cruising’s most admirable legacy, in fact, may have been to lead indirectly to the creation of The Celluloid Closet in an attempt to address Hollywood’s troubling legacy in portraying homosexuality on-screen. I’m clearly not well-placed to discuss the topic, but even to me, Cruising is an exemplary lesson in showing the importance of diversity. In-universe, it’s a lurid thriller set in motion largely because the NYPD doesn’t have what it takes to effectively investigate a serial killer preying in a specific community. (You can ask anyone in Toronto about a real-world tragic example of this.)  Out-universe, there are clear signs that the film suffers from being made by outsiders looking in: The BDSM leather aspect goes from a potential visual leitmotif to being central to the way the community is portrayed, and this freak-show aspect carries over to plotting that gets very confused the moment it could explore more interesting issues. As Cruising gets closer to its conclusion, it seems to go into a gay panic of its own and passes off ambiguity as a climax. (Have a look at this rather terrific analysis for more.)  A 2021+ remake of Cruising from gay filmmakers would be far more satisfying because it would be able to be more honest and go beyond the “wow, look at that!” freak-show factor in order to get to what’s interesting about the story. Right now, though, that 1980 version of Cruising is more interesting as an object of debate than as a thriller in its own right: Even writer-director William Friedkin can’t paper over the wrongness of its conception with his customary better-than-average execution.