Review: "An Englishman in New York" Was Out of Place There Too

In 1968, at the age of 60, a British writer named Quentin Crisp published a memoir, The Naked Civil Servant, about his life as a defiantly openly gay man at a time when homosexuality was illegal. He chose to dye his hair fuchsia, and sometimes wore make-up and women’s clothes — and as a result found himself scorned and beat up for much of his life.

The book was only a modest success, but Crisp's witty, irreverent take on life eventually made its way onto television, in a 1975 movie in which John Hurt portrayed Crisp (to perfection).

Crisp became an international sensation — and it's no exaggeration to say the movie, and its subject's unapologetic gayness, helped usher in a period of more open gay rights activism in the U.K.

Now 34 years after that movie comes a "follow-up" film, once again starring Hurt, telling the story of Crisp’s post-Naked Civil Servant life, specifically his move, at age 73, from London to New York City. The title, An Englishman in New York, is taken from a 1987 song Sting wrote about the man he met on the set of The Bride, a movie they made together.

The movie first aired on U.K. television, but will have its U.S. premiere on the Logo network (which owns AfterElton.com) this Sunday at 10 PM, as part of their 2009 Logo Fall Film Festival.

It's a flat-out terrific film, one of the best bio-pics I've ever seen.

The cast and director: Jonthan Tucker, Cynthia Nixon, John Hurt, Swoosie Kurtz, Richard Laxton, and Denis O'Hare

It opens on one of Quentin Crisp's one-person shows, in which he asks the audience, “What would you be like if there was nobody else in the world? Who would you be if the only opinion that mattered was yours? Because if you want to be truly happy, you must be that person.”

This, as succinctly stated as possible, is Crisp's philosophy of life.

It's a cliche to say that Crisp was "ahead of his time." According to this film, it's also not true. In many ways, Crisp was as out of place in the gay world of New York in the 1980s as he was in Britain in the 1940s.

For example, when an audience member in the early 1980s asks him about AIDS, he famously calls it "a passing fad, nothing more," to gasps from an audience that can't see beyond the words to understand its cheeky, esoteric context.

The gaffe threatens to destroy his career, but Crisp doesn't understand — or refuses to play by — the rules of celebrity culture.

“It is my policy never to defend,” he tells his editor. “To recant would be to imply that I do not mean what I say. And I do.”

It's ironic in a man who was desperate to be a celebrity, and to remain relevant. He attended every party he was invited to, and he famously kept his phone number listed, willing to talk to anyone who wanted to talk to him.

It goes back to his philosophy of life: this man who famously defied decades of English anti-gay scorn was simply unable to give in to any outside pressure, even if it came from other gay people, and even if their criticisms were valid.

But later, in a fascinating confrontation with some angry AIDS activists, Crisp finally does seem to understand the pain his words had caused.

Next Page! Crisp carries on, post-gaffe, as always.