Word: faggots
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...behalf of 20 million gay women and men in America, many of whom- until now- have been TIME readers, I take strong objection to your review of the film Heat [Oct. 16], which was described by Jay Cocks as "a faggot rehash of Sunset Boulevard." Your use of such abusive terms as "faggot" cannot be tolerated...
...Heat, a faggot rehash of Sunset Boulevard, is about an aging, braying B-picture movie star (Sylvia Miles) who takes up with a narcissistic stud (Joe Dallesandro). The film was made by the Andy Warhol epigone Paul Morrissey, who, like his master, exploits the sorry selection of freaks who have been recruited for the cast. Thus the audience is invited to have a good laugh at the gargoyle visage of Miles, chortle over Dallesandro's near-autistic blankness, and revel in the antics of an obese motel owner, and a schizophrenic lesbian. The lazy profanity and the grungy, grim...
...sawdust bar will warm the hearts of inveterate bargoers. The acting is very fine. Hope Schlorholtz gives a powerful portrayal of the burnt-out hussy Leona. She conveys the ambiguity of tender nature turned corrosive through failed aspirations. Tom Wells looks like he learned his part of the Hollywood faggot while listening to a James Brown record. He and John Rudman, the Iowa corn boy, produce some very comic visual effects flirting at their table. Terry Steiner deserves credit for salvaging the deficient role of Violet with alternating expressions of despondency and wide-eyed lechery...
...Ryder calls himself "a 20th century faggot" and cruises the Strip, hustling for bread. Nancy Wheeler sits on a mattress and talks about the time she was shooting so heavily that two friends got off on her leavings. City Life keeps himself moving by pushing stuff he gets from a big-time dealer in a silver Mercedes. He is also an informer...
...hasn't got it quite right. The road is really an escape route. When G.T.O. stops his sleek and speedy Pontiac to pick up hitchhikers along his way to anywhere, it is reality he is letting in. Talking to his passengers-a faggot cowpuncher, a grandmother caring for a newly orphaned child, a couple of soldiers on leave-he attempts to draw them into his own baroque imagination. He is by turns an ex-fighter pilot, a gambler, a test driver from Detroit. It is only clear about G.T.O. that whatever road he takes, he will always be lost...