To be gay and Asian American is to feel at times as though those two identities are at odds with each other.
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Booster’s hyperawareness of his positioning - as Asian American and therefore on a lower rung of the sexual caste system - gives the movie a modern edge. Inasmuch as Fire Island is one of the first major-studio gay rom-coms starring a queer cast, it is a film preoccupied with the inherent contradiction of gay liberation: The freedom of post-Stonewall sexuality is promised to some more than to others. When Noah makes a promise to put his friend’s fun and pleasure ahead of his own, it comes with a whiff of condescension: Howie couldn’t slut around the way Noah, with his rippling abs and icy gaze, could. As an Austen archetype, Howie is less Jane Bennet, the most winsome of the sisters, and more Harriet Smith from Emma. Darcy played by Conrad Ricamora), the relationship between them provides the brightest contours. While Noah and Howie both have endgame suitors (there is a wonderful Mr. Booster plays Noah, the Elizabeth Bennet of the group, who gets overly invested in ensuring that his best friend, Howie (played by his real-life Fire Island sister, the SNL-famous Bowen Yang), gets laid. Fire Island retains the familiar snappiness of Austen modernizations. Jane Austen understood fags, even if she didn’t know any. After reading Pride and Prejudice on a trip, he saw how neatly the courtship mores of Regency-era England mapped onto High Tea at the Sip-n-Twirl. It’s a place that makes you know your place.įire Island, the movie Booster wrote and stars in, draws from his early years visiting the island, when he and his friends would sleep 16 to four bedrooms. Multiple forms of currency exist here - beauty, sex, drugs, real estate, whiteness, actual money - that can make a person richer or poorer. In the months leading up to Memorial Day, men post thirst traps in the Facebook group Boys of Fire Island with increasingly desperate hopes of securing a room. There are no cars, paved roads, or traffic lights. The Pines is where sexual hierarchies meet arcane property laws, allowing the place to maintain a rarefied air of nostalgia. Since the ’30s, the narrow strip of sand on the eastern side of Fire Island has been a vacation hideaway for gay men of means or pluck: artists, photographers, white-collar executives, personal trainers, influencers, and Long Island teens working summer shifts at the Pantry. At this moment, high as Mount Olympus, he can look down at his naked body with his third eye open and agree: He is fucking hot.įire Island Pines is a charged setting for such revelations.
Still, there is always a difference between knowing something and feeling it.
He has measured it upwards of 10,000 times and knows it is an objectively good dick, a gorgeous dick. He stripped, got hard, and now is staring at his reflection. At some point, Booster peeled off and went to the bathroom. For dinner, they made junk carbonara from pantry leftovers. They took a walk back home that lasted for what felt like an eternity (ten minutes), during which they listened to Lorde and SOPHIE and split open the most delicious pineapple in the world. Earlier, they had gone to the beach, where the sand oozed between their toes and time lost its militant edge.
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It’s 2018, and he is tripping balls from the LSD Oreos he took with his housemates on their last full day on Fire Island.
Joel Kim Booster is looking at his penis.