As more and more of today’s generation plan careers before planning families, a shift in the public perception of romantic relationships has ushered in a new era of anti-exclusivity. In a culture in which caring is now creepy and aloof is the new sexy, Hollywood has tried to encapsulate the essence of this new trend through films such as No Strings Attached and Friends With Benefits.
However, neither of the films has accurately captured the true nature of these types of relationships, and the questions they provoke, so much as Andrew Haigh’s British Sundance Film, Weekend.
Appropriately named, the film chronicles the story of two gay men whose one-night stand turns into a weekend-long tryst of intoxicated, sexual, yet deeply personal interactions. Marking the big-screen debut of Tom Cullen and Chris New, Weekend is honest and unabashed as it explores the subjects of identity and human connection through the lens of two emotionally damaged young men.
Like most contemporary romances, the story of Russell (Cullen) and Glen (New) begins at a grimy club playing bad techno music. After leaving an unsatisfying party with his heterosexual friends, a drunk and high Russell decides to stop at a gay bar, where he first encounters Glen. Fast-forward to the morning after, where Glen whips out—a tape recorder. As part of an art project, he asks Russell to recount details from the night before. What did he think? How did he feel?
After much coercion from Glen, Russell admits, “I just thought we were having a really nice time.”
The moment is touching and honest and fosters a burgeoning emotional intimacy between the two men. Glen and Russell spend the next few days talking, hooking up, drinking, and snorting one too many lines of cocaine as they gradually get to know one another and reconcile their true selves with the personalities they initially tried to project.
As the author of Weekend, Haigh admits that the struggle between private and public identity is a significant theme of the film. Reserved and slightly awkward, Russell has yet to fully come to terms with his homosexuality. Although his friends are aware of his sexual orientation, it would be incorrect to say Russell is entirely out of the closet. Through Glen, he is able to freely express his homosexual desires in a way that allows him to bridge the gap between his “gay life” and his public life.
On the contrary, Glen is confident, outspoken, and completely open about his sexuality, almost to a fault. He serves as the male equivalent of the “manic-pixie-dream-girl.” Glen is the male embodiment of every man’s fantasy—flawed yet endearing, elusive yet alluring. Yet unlike Natalie Portman or Zooey Deschanel, Glen possesses far more layers of depth. His self-assurance and detachment, as the viewer learns, is the by-product of a larger issue, something more than the fact that he just doesn’t “do” boyfriends. The audience will certainly understand Glen’s reasoning for his emotional detachment.
This portrayal of identity represents our generation’s constant struggle to define itself. Who are we in this politically and economically turbulent, yet rapidly evolving world? Often, meeting someone new provides an opportunity for people to start over, to be who they want to be. If the two individuals become closer, like Glen and Russell, one partner is bound to discover that the other is not entirely as he or she initially appeared.
In the depiction of Glen and Russell’s relationship, nothing seems at all contrived. They tiptoe along the boundaries of lovers, friends, and confidants and stumble into a category of all three.
Of course, it may seem counter-productive to build an emotional relationship out of sex. Isn’t the point of one-night-stands to fulfill some primal need—to seek pleasure in the absence of a commitment? Are we not drawn to friends-with-benefits relationships for this type of reason? Does emotional intimacy ruin the point of hooking up? And moreover, can the two facets co-exist separately without any sort commitment?
Weekend doesn’t try to answer these questions. Rather, it provokes them. It puts people’s sex-lives on-screen and forces them to question whether their choice of relationships is productive or sustainable. Of course, there is a number of Harvard students who pursue romantic relationships that guarantee a Facebook status or at least some form of commitment, but many don’t
Although the themes touched upon by Weekend are universal, the film does address the challenges of homosexual identity. To ignore them, however, would be almost negligent on Haigh’s part, and acknowledging those issues is central to understanding Glen and Russell’s character. Yet, there were a few times that I felt sadly hetero-normative. I asked myself, “Would I feel this uncomfortable if it were a man and women?” The answer, interestingly enough, is yes, but not solely because sex scenes are awkward in general.
As Russell and Glen’s relationship progresses, their sexual interactions become more intimate, real, and profound. I felt strange not only for watching two men masturbate one another, but for feeling as though I was intruding on a private and poignant moment between two lovers.
Like Friends with Benefits, Weekend ends in a train station– though this scene in no way resembles the former’s un-ironic “I really do love you” scene in Grand Central. Very rarely do these flings have happy endings. I won’t tell you what happens to Russell and Glen, but given the painfully real quality of Weekend, it’s safe to say not to expect a surprise twist
But perhaps it is not the ending that matters. Weekend suggests that more important are those few, brief moments of human connection. Perhaps we should appreciate that somehow in the midst of our messy, complicated lives we experienced an intimate moment with someone that will have an impact on the way we live.
To be fair, Weekend is by no means cinematic masterpiece. The shaky camera-work reveals film’s obviously low production budget. The dialogue and humor can also be very dry, a feature common amongst British films.
However, neither of these factors should stop you from making the trip to Kendall Square to watch Weekend or from renting the film a few months from now. Weekend is the definitive “friends with benefits” movie, our generation’s When Harry Met Sally. A hauntingly real depiction of a modern-day love story, Weekend reminds us of the fleeting, yet meaningful moments that can affect us for the rest of our lives.