Queer Boycott*: Devil Wears Prada

UNLESS YOU'RE SEEING THE FILM BECAUSE YOU SEE EVERY ANNE HATHAWAY PIC, I SAY BOYCOTT!
Hathaway, Anne
Simon Doonan talks about "auditioning" for The Devil Wears Prada...

Skipping out of the casting office, I ran smack-dab into fellow telly nelly Philip Bloch (CNN, MTV, etc.). You straight, white readers may not understand what I am about to say, but please believe me when I tell you that this encounter was very much the equivalent of Hattie McDaniel running into Butterfly McQueen outside the casting office of Gone with the Wind. We eyed each other suspiciously. “You better not be trying to get my part, bitch!” our defensive body language seemed to say. Barely masking a foaming sea of competitive feelings, we commiserated politely about the agony of memorizing lines and went about our business. As I rode the bus home, I couldn’t help wondering how many other random homosexualists had been called upon to try out for Nigel.

The next day, I ran into Fashion Police diva Robert Verdi of the E! Channel. Same story. Had no fashion fag in Manhattan been left unturned? I reassured myself that I had nothing to worry about: These other poofters would loose out to me, me, me, Norma Desmond, because of the accent. (Nigel is supposed to be English.)

Then the realization dropped on me like a ton of remaindered copies of Ms. Weisberger’s new book, Everyone Worth Knowing: I was not going to get the part … and neither were any of my fellow nellies. This whole charade, I theorized, was nothing more than a carefully orchestrated piece of unpaid research. We gays had been dragged in to swish it up—on film, no less—for the delectation of some pre-cast, overpaid straight actor. This thespian would then fashion his characterization from our mincings.
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How long will we be happy with caricatures being allowed on-screen, but not OUR actual selves?

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