The Longest Homophobe

The original Longest Yard was a landmark of Seventies-era, anti-establishment sentiment. It was violent, savagely funny, mean and an unapologetic spit in the face of authority. As directed by the gifted Robert Aldrich, The Longest Yard of 1974 was about as cutting-edge as mainstream comedy got at the time.

Fade in to 2005 and an ill-conceived remake, with Adam Sandler in the Burt Reynolds role of Paul Crewe, a fallen NFL quarterback rotting in a Texas prison when he is tapped to organize a football team of convicts to play the guards.

What is deemed cutting edge in these trying times? Tough call. In our strict law-and-order environment, Hollywood doesn't have the cojones to focus too much on the sociopathic tendencies of convicts. After all, prison inmates are not funny (well, not unless they're being held indefinitely at Guatanamo Bay, but that's for another movie).

Nope, nowadays cutting edge means anti-gay. And the remake of The Longest Yard is chock full o' backwards, redneck, stereotype-embracing, queer is ha-ha funny gay-bashing.



See how funny they are?

We've got a prissy fella who develops an instant crush on Sandler because our hero is boorish and has crashed his girlfriend's Bentley after going on a drunken joyride. (Gay people love brutes, don'cha know).

We have a gaggle of flamer convicts who make up cheers like "Gimmie a D! Gimmie an I! Gimmie a C! Gimmie ..." (Get it? They want, well, you know ...).

We have two inmates caught making out over a surveillance camera. We have Rob Schneider in a cameo (reason enough to avoid the picture) as an overzealous convict all aflutter over the possibility of a group hug in the showers.

It appears that gay-bashing is the one remaining widely accepted form of bigotry left in America.

I would call your attention to a touching and poignant sermon recently delivered by a friend for a Unitarian Church service in Oklahoma City.