In ‘The Yellow Handkerchief’ William Hurt plays a bum who just got out of the joint after serving a six year bit for manslaughter. He is a man who has never been able to connect with the world. He teams up with a couple teenagers (who wouldn’t want their 15 year old daughter riding around New Orleans with an ex-con?) to go visit his ex-wife. Yeah, that’s right. The guy who cannot connect with anyone has an ex-wife played by Maria Bello. Oh, and after he gets out of the can, she’s waiting for him with open arms.
God this movie made me so angry. I went by myself, and literally was the only living soul in the theatre. I had a free pass, so my guess is that this film is not exactly breaking records at the box office. Maybe they should have filmed it in 3-D. YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE TO NOT BE ABLE TO CONNECT WITH THE WORLD? TALK TO THE GUY BY HIMSELF AT THE 9:50 SHOWING OF THIS FILM. IF THEY HAD FILMED ME FOR TWO HOURS IT WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE ENTERTAINING.
Before heading over to E Street Cinema to see this film, a friend of mine made a joke about the title. After doing research, I discovered that her quip referred to a practice known as ‘the handkerchief code.’ It involves gay men putting bandanas in their back pockets, and the placement and color of the bandana signals various acts and whether they want to be the recipient or the delivery mechanism. For example, a yellow handkerchief in a gay man’s right back pocket means he wants someone to pee on him. Nice.
First I have to make sure I don’t tap my feet while using a public restroom, now this? Seriously, it is amazing that straight men are not being raped all around this city for accidently giving off the wrong signal. I have gay men decorate my condo and pick out my clothes, and thank god I trust them. Had they told me that a red hanky in my right back pocket would really drive the ladies crazy, I would have gone along with it. Unfortunately, in the gay community my red bandana would be the equivalent of taping a sign on my back that says, ‘Fist Me!’
Some people (mental patients mostly) say that there is no such thing as normal. A covert advertisement of a desire for someone to pee on you is probably outside the bounds of most definitions of normal. The answer to this is gay marriage. No one would let their spouse hang their freak flag outside the bedroom. It may be a little harsh to judge this practice because in the heterosexual community this is not an issue. As men, we assume our women are open to anything. And in the event we get whistled for a backcourt violation, we camp out on the couch for a few days and make sure next time she’s had more to drink. And now you know why I was by myself.