Small Town Gay Bar
Genre: Documentary
Director: Malcolm Ingram
Release: (2006)
Some of you may be wondering why I felt the need to be so explicitly detailed about the vile teachings and beliefs of the Westboro Baptist Church, and I do have a reason. Despite the repellant shiver that rolled through my body at even just typing those slogans as purely verifiable, objective facts, I still felt it was the only way to truly emphasize to everyone who this reverend is and, more importantly, underscore what a totally cheap, unnecessary, manipulative and reprehensible move it was for Ingram to go out of his way to squeeze him into this movie, which I will lay out more clearly for you now.
In setting the scene around the bars in Mississippi, Ingram goes out of his way to find the most rednecky, dip-spittin’, uni-browed townies to interview about their thoughts on having a gay bar nearby. And, granted, he finds some beauties with some stunningly ignorant opinions to help him make his case (though there’s no telling how many people he had to interview to find the 2 or 3 Deliverance rejects that he recycles repeatedly for these interviews). But what is clear to anyone reading between the carefully-edited lines is that as intolerant as any of these locals may be in their own opinions, none of them have any intention of going out of their way to interfere with the patrons of the bars and probably wouldn’t even think twice about it if Ingram weren’t there asking questions. That’s why Ingram has to go so out of his way to find a violent hate crime to tie in to his movie (equally reprehensible, if not more so), and that’s why he has to go out of his way to bring in Reverend Phelps for what he knew would add some guaranteed shock value. And here’s the kicker (which Ingram conveniently leaves out), Reverend Phelps and the Westboro Baptist Church are based entirely in KANSAS. Two states away, by the quickest route, from Mississippi and everyone else in this film. Ingram’s pseudo-logic is that one of the bars he profiles is located in the town where Phelps was born and (also conveniently not mentioned) moved away from over 60 years ago. It is clear from Phelps’ responses to Ingram’s questions that he has never heard of this or any of these bars, but he predictably plays right into Ingram’s plan and delivers a few well-rehearsed, impassioned diatribes about how very nigh the day is when God’s wrath will rain down on gays everywhere. Diatribes which might appear quite menacing for any of the patrons we’ve already gotten to know in earlier scenes, if we didn’t already happen to know how completely removed Phelps is from where they all are. Dirty pool, Ingram, dirty pool.
I hate to even mention this, because I like the guy so much, but perhaps the most disappointing part of all was that this film was executive produced by Kevin Smith and View Askew Productions. I have no doubt in my mind that Smith’s only real contributions were financial and that he either (a) never even saw it until just before it premiered, or (b) just believes in allowing his director’s complete creative control, wherever that may lead them. But, really Kevin, rein this Ingram guy in or cut him loose. Even for all the trouble he went through to force in some compelling drama, it still wasn’t even that compelling – just infuriatingly transparent.
Grading
Story: N/A
Acting: N/A
Visuals: C
Originality/Innovation: C
Enjoyability: D
Overall: F (Points off final score for remorseless, conniving manipulation)
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