We finally saw Superman Returns over the long weekend and we gotta say, unlike a lotta people around here, we couldn’t find a gay bone in Brandon Routh’s Clark Kent. He seemed about as straight as an extraterrestrial with humanlike features raised in America’s heartland has any hope of being. A little socially awkward maybe but, again, he’s an alien. The infamous bulge that precedes any chat about Routh as Superman, though reportedly digitally minimized, was in so few shots you could count them on one hand, assuming your other hand was otherwise engaged. (And, really, shouldn’t a “man of steel” be lavishly endowed?) Yes, he was spackled with Max Factor from forehead to neck, but your skin tone would be uneven too if you were constantly beleaguered with meeting a daily newspaper’s deadlines while foiling fiendish plots to decimate the country.
But there was an overtly gay character in the film: the cruel Lex Luthor portrayed by Kevin Spacey as a bitter old closet case. Perhaps it was Bryan Singer‘s purposeful little surprise for an audience expecting a nelly caped crusader from a homo helmer, because you don’t hire Spacey accidentally. If you’re looking to cast a jowled, pursed-lipped, sour, aging fag actor who is always jowled, pursed-lipped, sour, and aging in every role he gets, you need not hold auditions – you dial Spacey’s agent. And with Spacey in the role, there was something wholly unwholesome about the way Luthor and his gang of thugs seemed to take pleasure in savagely beating the kryptonite-impared Superman, like those in-denial ruffians who beat on handsome boys because they would really rather kiss them.