April 28, 2008

Kissing Jessica Stein

Not straight enough

For a film classified under the LBGT genre, Kissing Jessica Stein (Charles Herman-Wurmfeld, 2001) is as straight as a door knob. But lest, you consider the aforementioned comment as a backhanded-Brokeback Mountain critique of sorts, here’s the kicker – it’s a flat-out compliment. My sole – and very pronounced – complaint, as you shall read in a moment, is that Kissing Jessica Stein isn't straight enough.

The central conceit of the film – a young hetero woman, frustrated by the lack of good male suitors, tries out women for a change – isn’t so much shameless provocation, as it is a pointed reflection of today’s mores. In an era more tolerant of sexual ambiguity, young women are given the chance to role-play in alternative sexual roles that would’ve not been offered to their mothers.

That Kissing Jessica Stein, unlike so many other romantic comedy these days, bothers to explore this zeitgeist head-on, may explain why this rom com has since cultivated a strong cult following among twentysomething young women not unlike myself.
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As someone who understands this zeitegeist too well, Kissing Jessica Stein is, nonetheless, a frustrating, uneven experience that feels like the crushing denouement of a vagina block: it’s smart and honest and invigorating – but only to a certain point. For a film that initially gushed of estrogen (credit the sparkling dialogue to two of the film's straight stars, Jennifer Westfeldt and Heather Juergensen, who adapted the script from an earlier stage collaboration), its promise was, ultimately, undermined by strong ties to rom-com conventions.

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In Kissing Jessica Stein, the satiric conceit is actualized by guts and happenstance. In the beginning of the film, a “Woman Seeking Woman” ad catches the eye of the epononymous character – mousy copy editor Jessica Stein – one day at work. And in spite of some personal misgivings, she dials those digits, nerves-be-damned.

Jessica and her date meet conventionally enough, at a café in a splendidly silly kind of way, that would tickle a playwright pink with its comedy of errors observations. Within a moment’s glance, Jessica shrieks in honorable good-Jewish-girl fashion, and hails for a cab. The jilted date – a young art gallery assistant named Helen – runs after Jessica with a pair of stilettos in tow. But after some mutual effort and time (and consoling on Helen’s behalf), Jessica and Helen begin to find common ground during girl talk, as they empathetically acknowledge one another’s superficial – but shared – interests such as yoga, fashion, and oh, yes, lipstick.

Jessica and Helen’s courtship is rife with awkwardness. You know it’s going well for Jessica and Helen – and you’re happy for them and all. But something’s missing in their interaction. It’s not so much a date, as it is a female bonding session. It’s those funny, indispensable observations that made the first half-hour of Kissing Jessica Stein so unforgettable. You don’t have to be a girl to be in on the joke, but it sure helps.

***

For a film so witty and thoughtful about the gender divide, it pains me to say that what follows the first act is nothing short of banal. Jennifer Westfeldt and Heather Juergensen, along with their onscreen alter-egos, tread to familiar territory once the fuzzy honeymoon period ends. It's no longer about Jessica and Helen's characters. It's now about their families and friends whom they await for official approval (as if Jessica's lesbianism has been officiated).

The film’s Annie-Hall-ized second act – think Jewish neuroses but with lesbians! – has inspired readings that have taken on a life of its own. Rick Groen of Toronto’s The Globe and Mail had this to say about the film: “Men may be gay by nature, but women are lesbians by choice – such is the implied message of Kissing Jessica Stein.” Roger Ebert, echoing Groen’s interpretation, prefaced his review with a “murky-waters” acknowledgement: the argument that construes homosexuality as a lifestyle choice is politically incorrect in gay circles.

It was only a matter of time before some gay writers joined the fray, and criticized Kissing Jessica Stein for a supposed espousal. In a piece entitled, “Jessica Stein and Samantha Jones: The Attack of the Temporary Lesbians”, Tom Dolby of the online magazine, The Simon, claims, among other things, that the idea of temporary lesbianism isn’t far off from the Falwellian scheme of things.

No offense to Groen, Ebert, and Dolby, but I do not opine such readings. Kissing Jessica Stein isn't a film about confused lesbians. It's a film about confused straight women. That Westfeldt and Juergensen resort to Annie Hall speaks volumes about their compromising vision. The writing team duo have dropped provocative ruminations for overdone formulas – and to dire consequences.

***

The film ends on a very confused note, more loyal to the first act than the second one. After all those strives made, towards domestication, Helen dumps Jessica. As Helen so bluntly puts it, they’ve become more like roommates than lovers.

While posting “roommate-wanted” flyers at a local bookstore, Jessica bumps into an old boyfriend – the charming dickwad that is Josh. Now a writer and in pursuit of the passion he had previously abandoned after college, Josh is all sweats, stubble, and all-nighters – a moth to Jessica’s flame. We see them exchanging numbers, and having what appears to be, that recognizable glint in their eyes. Jessica and Helen, in the meantime, still see each other every now and then – but now, as friends, conversing in their usual girl talk.

Kissing Jessica Stein could’ve been an exploration about the dilemmas of the modern women and the sick joke that is heterosexuality. It could’ve ended with a biting twist: Jessica’s realization that she’s in love with the enemy – you know, the same breed of boy-men who, as Jessica and Helen agreed, have nothing funny or smart to say at dinner time, ogle at the lesbian fantasy because, well, it’s “double sexy”, and just seem to exist in a different plateau from the female species, period.

In other words, the film could’ve been controversially Breillatian, but instead, settled for the tried-and-true stylings of Woody Allen. But none of that matters now. It’s too little, too late. Kissing Jessica Stein is an entertaining, little film. But it could’ve been more – a conversation starter that extends beyond pop cultural footnotes.