When you think of a modern spin on a Jane Austen classic—not a recreation, mind you, I’m talking a completely new spin—you probably think, Oh, it’ll just be yet another campy wish-fulfillment Lifetime special for straight white women. And most of the time, you’re right. Austeny movies tend to be very fluffy with no real substance, for better or for worse.
For a plethora of reasons, Fire Island is so, so much more than that. Yes, it’s LITERALLY campy, and it’s definitely got elements of wish-fulfillment. But what makes it stand out, and far above the rest, is that it’s a cleverly written, unabashedly modern tale written for, and about, gay men.
We don’t have a lot of those, when you think about it! In mainstream media, gay men (cis or otherwise) usually take a role that’s either secondary, or stereotypical. The ins and outs of the lives of these men aren’t explored in a way that feels authentic or humanizing, and in the past decade or so, we’ve only really gotten a handful of shows and movies that have even attempted to accomplish this. Looking, Moonlight, and The Gay And Wondrous Life of Caleb Gallo come to mind as examples to aspire to (an HBO series, award-winning movie, and web series respectively).
Yet somehow, Fire Island—a seemingly shallow movie about a group of guys looking to go wild for the summer—is one of the most heartfelt queer movies I’ve seen in a very long time. It really takes the time to establish a sense of tenderness and familiarity with its main cast, primarily the two main characters, Noah (AKA Elizabeth Bennet) and Howie (AKA Jane Bennet). Joel Kim Booster and Bowen Yang really sell these characters, not as one-dimensional caricatures of the original women, but as characters in their own right, and men who you very well could meet out in the world. Yes, some of the other characters feel like 80s stereotypes, but I think that only adds to the fun of the story.
On top of this—um, hello, the Asian rep in this movie is incredible? Asian men are often emasculated in media, and Gaysians are subject to a whole other form of harmful stereotyping as well. But Fire Island (and director Andrew Ahn) really went ahead and said, Screw you, we’re people too, and we get to write our own narratives! Absolutely badass and valid, and we love it.
And hey, it’s not an especially deep movie, sure. But it doesn’t have to be! Where Fire Island deserves its acclaim is in the fact that it took an old ass story and made it really fresh, super fun, highly relatable (for the target demographic and otherwise), and charming beyond belief. Queer movies don’t need to be harrowingly educational in order to exist, they’re allowed to be silly and fun and as experimental as they please, and they’re allowed to only touch on the subject matter they want to touch on. Like, sorry Twitter, but a movie about gay men doesn’t need to pass the Bechdel test.
Overall, I would recommend this movie to anyone who’s A) gay as the day is long, B) having issues with their romantic or sexual lives, C) Asian as pho, or D) none of the above yet needing a good movie to kickstart the summer.
(Featured Image: Hulu)
