Is not general incivility the very essence of love?
It's not like we weren't due a proper gay Pride and Prejudice. The only one we have so far is the 2016 indie Before the Fall, which is better as a tourism video for Virginia hiking paths than a romantic drama. The Hulu project Fire Island is certainly a proper adaptation. Indeed, it's a startlingly faithful one when it comes down to it. I'm certainly glad it exists, and hope that it opens the door for something actually interesting like a gay Northanger Abbey. But for all of its cultural import, is it actually a good movie? Let's dig in.
Fire Island takes place on, well, Fire Island, as a group of broke thirtysomething gay men reunite for their yearly trip to spend a week in a beach home owned by their mother figure Erin (Margaret Cho). The two most important members of the group are Noah (Joel Kim Booster, who also wrote the film), a deep-rooted anti-monogamist, and Howie (Bowen Yang), a romantic with a heart of gold. The others, who form a sort of horny Greek chorus, are horny airheads Luke (Matt Rogers) and Keegan (Tomás Matos), and uptight buzzkill Max (Torian Miller).
When he finds out that Erin is going to lose the house and this may spell the end of their annual get-togethers, Noah pours all his energy into getting Howie laid (a Taming of the Shrew-style subplot about him not hooking up until Howie does briefly rears its head, glances around to see if anyone is interested, then retreats). When Howie instantly (and chastely) begins to fall for a hot himbo doctor named Charlie (James Scully), Noah is frustrated to find that he keeps bumping into Charlie's rude friend Will (Conrad Ricamora). Will is rich and rather prideful, and Noah is prejudiced against him. Stop me if you've heard this before, but they will slowly realize there is more to each other than meets the eye and perhaps fall in love. Who knows.
As someone who has made it a point to watch every film adaptation of Jane Austen's work and is totally gay (in case the first part of that sentence didn't already make that clear), this should be a film that I really respond to. However, rather than being a raucous romantic comedy, Fire Island has chosen to be a hangout movie. And the film hasn't done enough of the work to present us with characters who are particularly worth hanging out with. Rogers, Matos, and Miller attempt to keep the party atmosphere going and get one solid moment apiece, but struggle to find a foothold in one-dimensional characters who are really only dragged in when a scene needs a more robust texture.
Our title couple at least come to life with more grounded performances and well-shaded characters, but their chemistry buckles under the pressure of having to re-enact what is (for better or for worse) one of romantic literature's most iconic arcs. The script coasts on the presumption that everyone watching knows the couple is meant to be together, hiding a key moment of connection inside a wordless montage and hoping people will just fill in the gaps. The story bends over backward trying to force Will and Noah into the shape of Lizzy and Darcy and ultimately shatters several vertebrae, resulting in uncomfortable moments like a running gag involving an ice cream cone that started off unfunny and quickly descended into a sub-basement of flop sweaty physical comedy hell.
Fire Island is ultimately only intermittently successful at tugging the heartstrings, whiffing hard on Noah's disaffected millennial yearning. Fortunately, Booster the screenwriter clearly saw where his bread was buttered and boosted up the secondary romantic plotline so much that it nearly engulfs the entire project, elevating Yang (in the role meant to mimic Lizzy Bennet's older sister Jane) to co-lead.
Both Howie and Charlie are bolstered by the best performances in the film: Scully so nails the cluelessness of a wide-eyed naïf that one can reasonably forgive him for some truly horrible decision-making and Yang effortlessly glides from humor to drama and back again, making even a rote drug trip scene something to remember. On top of that, their onscreen chemistry is crackling, so the fact that the film devotes an unusual amount of time to their romantic travails is an enormous boon.
Unfortunately, the film is not ultimately about them, but their romance is so transparently what the film wants to focus on that Noah and Will's romantic conclusion almost feels like a post-credits sequence than the climax of a film. The Fire Island around the pair also suffers from an overdose of probably-studio-mandated narration that is essentially a PowerPoint explaining gay things to straight people.
At the end of the day, there is enough solid joke-writing at play to shore up the scenes that fail to evoke swoony romance or rich characters. However, the film's deemphasis on comedy and attempt to lean toward a more Linklater-y pace is a grave mistake, robbing Fire Island of the chance to jump from "good" to "great."
Brennan Klein is a millennial who knows way more about 80's slasher movies than he has any right to. He's a former host of the Attack of the Queerwolf podcast and a current senior movie/TV news writer at Screen Rant. You can find his other reviews on his blog Popcorn Culture. Follow him on Twitter or Letterboxd, if you feel like it.
Fire Island takes place on, well, Fire Island, as a group of broke thirtysomething gay men reunite for their yearly trip to spend a week in a beach home owned by their mother figure Erin (Margaret Cho). The two most important members of the group are Noah (Joel Kim Booster, who also wrote the film), a deep-rooted anti-monogamist, and Howie (Bowen Yang), a romantic with a heart of gold. The others, who form a sort of horny Greek chorus, are horny airheads Luke (Matt Rogers) and Keegan (Tomás Matos), and uptight buzzkill Max (Torian Miller).
When he finds out that Erin is going to lose the house and this may spell the end of their annual get-togethers, Noah pours all his energy into getting Howie laid (a Taming of the Shrew-style subplot about him not hooking up until Howie does briefly rears its head, glances around to see if anyone is interested, then retreats). When Howie instantly (and chastely) begins to fall for a hot himbo doctor named Charlie (James Scully), Noah is frustrated to find that he keeps bumping into Charlie's rude friend Will (Conrad Ricamora). Will is rich and rather prideful, and Noah is prejudiced against him. Stop me if you've heard this before, but they will slowly realize there is more to each other than meets the eye and perhaps fall in love. Who knows.
As someone who has made it a point to watch every film adaptation of Jane Austen's work and is totally gay (in case the first part of that sentence didn't already make that clear), this should be a film that I really respond to. However, rather than being a raucous romantic comedy, Fire Island has chosen to be a hangout movie. And the film hasn't done enough of the work to present us with characters who are particularly worth hanging out with. Rogers, Matos, and Miller attempt to keep the party atmosphere going and get one solid moment apiece, but struggle to find a foothold in one-dimensional characters who are really only dragged in when a scene needs a more robust texture.
Our title couple at least come to life with more grounded performances and well-shaded characters, but their chemistry buckles under the pressure of having to re-enact what is (for better or for worse) one of romantic literature's most iconic arcs. The script coasts on the presumption that everyone watching knows the couple is meant to be together, hiding a key moment of connection inside a wordless montage and hoping people will just fill in the gaps. The story bends over backward trying to force Will and Noah into the shape of Lizzy and Darcy and ultimately shatters several vertebrae, resulting in uncomfortable moments like a running gag involving an ice cream cone that started off unfunny and quickly descended into a sub-basement of flop sweaty physical comedy hell.
Fire Island is ultimately only intermittently successful at tugging the heartstrings, whiffing hard on Noah's disaffected millennial yearning. Fortunately, Booster the screenwriter clearly saw where his bread was buttered and boosted up the secondary romantic plotline so much that it nearly engulfs the entire project, elevating Yang (in the role meant to mimic Lizzy Bennet's older sister Jane) to co-lead.
Both Howie and Charlie are bolstered by the best performances in the film: Scully so nails the cluelessness of a wide-eyed naïf that one can reasonably forgive him for some truly horrible decision-making and Yang effortlessly glides from humor to drama and back again, making even a rote drug trip scene something to remember. On top of that, their onscreen chemistry is crackling, so the fact that the film devotes an unusual amount of time to their romantic travails is an enormous boon.
Unfortunately, the film is not ultimately about them, but their romance is so transparently what the film wants to focus on that Noah and Will's romantic conclusion almost feels like a post-credits sequence than the climax of a film. The Fire Island around the pair also suffers from an overdose of probably-studio-mandated narration that is essentially a PowerPoint explaining gay things to straight people.
At the end of the day, there is enough solid joke-writing at play to shore up the scenes that fail to evoke swoony romance or rich characters. However, the film's deemphasis on comedy and attempt to lean toward a more Linklater-y pace is a grave mistake, robbing Fire Island of the chance to jump from "good" to "great."
Brennan Klein is a millennial who knows way more about 80's slasher movies than he has any right to. He's a former host of the Attack of the Queerwolf podcast and a current senior movie/TV news writer at Screen Rant. You can find his other reviews on his blog Popcorn Culture. Follow him on Twitter or Letterboxd, if you feel like it.
Categories: romcoms
