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Wednesday, January 26, 2005
The Carringtons In Gosford Park
By Kevin John
The TV movie "Dynasty: The Making of a Guilty Pleasure" promised to be a guilty
pleasure itself. But anyone paying more attention than television usually
elicits could determine from the opening scene that little guilt would be
required. Hundreds of screaming fans are gathered outside the premiere of "The
Dynasty Collection" — a merchandise line that will make you "look, dress, smell, and
dine like The Carringtons." After the arrival of the Blake/Krystle/Alexis
triumvirate, Esther and Bob Shapiro (the nighttime soap's creators) step out of
their limo. "Who are you?" one the fans asks Bob Shapiro. "I'm a writer." "Oh.
No one important," decides the fan. But over the very next shot, the following
credit appears: "Written by Matthew Miller."
Never heard of him either. IMDb says his only previous feature is a 2002
outing with Jenny McCarthy which I've never seen called "The Perfect You" (AKA
Crazy Little Thing). But he directed "Dynasty: The Making of a Guilty Pleasure" as
well, so the project's singular vision must be credited to him. Here we have
two hours of reverie dedicated to the overwhelming queerness of the 1980s. Nicholas
Hammond plays producer Aaron Spelling like Paul Lynde, complete with a mincing "colleague" named
Les Markowitz (code name for "Dynasty" executive producer Douglas S. Cramer, most
likely) who we're introduced to long before Spelling's wife (beard?). (And is
that the Spelling character in full Alexis drag at the end? Please advise.)
The changes in the show are measured by the denizens
glued to the TV at a gay bar. And, of course, Miller dives into the challenges
of getting the openly gay Steven Carrington, played by former Studio 54 doorman
Al Corley (himself portrayed by hunky Rel Hunt), onto screens across Middle
America.
According to Miller's vision, Corley undertook the role as a political
crusade: "My dream is that somewhere in Middle America, a working-class guy named Lou comes home after a hard day at work, he watches our program and maybe…just maybe…he'll think differently about two men being together." And indeed, we
get a fat, balding, beer-drinking Lou, home after a hard day at work to find his
wife ironing while watching Steven coming out to Blake. "Country's falling
apart," Lou mutters. But Lou will get hooked, and we measure history (of the show and the nation) by his reactions as well.
A third barometer comes from the most famous star of the decade, Ronald
Reagan, courtesy of a constantly chattering bank of TV monitors at ABC studios. We
first hear Ronnie ask us if we're better off now financially than we were four
years ago. But after eight years of Reaganomics, Lou is out of work, lying at
home watching the final season of "Dynasty" while the Mrs. comes home from her
job as a night nurse. "I hate those rich bastards," she manages from her
exhaustion.
The more economically privileged are no less vulnerable. The Shapiros kill
off cast members left and right as cost-saving maneuvers. ABC execs fear for
their jobs amidst merger mania. And like a "Gosford Park" writ small, Miller
chokes
his frame with servants, shoe shiners, caddies, door/elevator men, barbers,
and scads of studio laborers as a nagging reminder of Reagan's draconian tax
breaks wedging an ever-widening gap between rich and poor.
The fiercely queer and anti-Reagan strains come together in the figure of
Rock Hudson, who starred as Krystle's love interest. An executive walks through
the halls of ABC (as a woman vacuums them) with a memo announcing that Hudson
has AIDS. The ABC monitors show Reagan celebrating his 1984 re-election victory,
and the juxtaposition triggers the memory that it would be at least two years
before our president responded to the AIDS crisis.
"Dynasty" gets cancelled just as the Bush Dynasty is sworn into office and the
radio in Esther Shapiro's car coldly acknowledges that "When President Reagan
left office, the country, which, when he inherited it, was the world's largest
creditor nation, became the world's largest debtor nation." With
a few stops over at the Iran Contra Affair along the way, "Dynasty: The Making
of a Guilty Pleasure" is as bitter and dead-on a glimpse into the vagaries of
the New Right as we're likely to ever get in a primetime slot, not to mention
in a brand new era of widespread self-delusion.
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