Throughout cinema history, there have been some iconic nude scenes that have transcended the bounds of the films in which they appeared. Our weekly column Anatomy of a Scene's Manatomy will take an in-depth look at these scenes, their history, their deeper meanings, and their legacy. This week, John Cameron Mitchell brings his beautifully broken creation Hedwig and the Angry Inch to the big screen, and going nude at the end to give Hedwig a proper goodbye.
It's hard to call any film that finds itself part of the prestigious Criterion Collection underrated, but 2001's Hedwig and the Angry Inch still carries that distinction nearly twenty years after its release and more than two decades after its creation. Rock and roll overtook the theatre world in the late 90s, and one of the most interesting was John Cameron Mitchell and Stephen Trask’s “Hedwig and the Angry Inch,” a sort of punk-glam-rock-one-(wo)man-and-a-band kind of show. For a world famously touted for not having second acts, Hedwig has now had three: First as the experience described previously, then as a film that leaned heavily into the glam rock aspects of the musical, and finally a Broadway spectacular fronted by Neil Patrick Harris in full-on punk vamp mode.
Mitchell makes his feature directorial directing debut telling the story of the titular band fronted by Hedwig Robinson (Mitchell, reprising his role from Off-Broadway), the band deriving its moniker from the genitalia Hedwig was left with after a botched East German gender reassignment surgery. Through adversity, Hedwig became a singer/songwriter, channeling her personal experiences into glam-charged musical numbers that are used to keep the story moving forward. Hedwig’s Communist East Berlin upbringing is tinged with confusion about his identity, particularly as it pertained to his homeland’s eventual evolution toward democracy and unification. Hedwig’s story is one of halves made whole, poetically being born a boy on the day the Berlin Wall was erected.
Named Hansel as a child, he is forever in search of his “other half,” a tale relayed through the beautiful song “The Origin of Love,” itself based on a section of Plato’s “Symposium.” That’s the brilliant thing about “Hedwig,” it’s music-literate, cine-literate, and has a deep love of drama and theatre baked into its bones. It then regurgitates this through catchy songs, hilariously biting and self-deprecating humor, and a smattering of gorgeous animated sequences thrown in for good measure.
That botched gender reassignment operation mentioned earlier was done at the behest of an American G.I. named Luther (Maurice Dean Wint) who offers to marry Hansel and bring him to America if he is able to first pass a physical examination to prove he's a woman. Post-surgery and emigration to America, Hansel—now finally called Hedwig—finds herself in a Kansas trailer park, ditched by Luther for a toy boy with functional genitalia. As stated earlier, she eventually begins a singer/songwriter career, her musical talents soon catching the ear of virtuous Christian boy Tommy Speck (Michael Pitt). The two begin a tumultuous relationship that ends with Tommy rejecting Hedwig when confronted with the realities of her situation, and reinventing himself as a pop star using songs Hedwig wrote.
When their paths cross again late in the story, we see that Tommy isn't an inhuman monster, he's just a scared kid. Scared of his true feelings, scared of people's expectations for him, scared of virtually everything, hiding it all behind a pop star façade. It helps Hedwig take stock of the walls she's built up around herself, excluding her own bandmates from her true thoughts and feelings. Cameron lays himself bare in the film's closing moments, stumbling into the world like a newborn, naked as a jaybird. She is ready to accept her reality and move forward without holding on to the regret, leaving behind the façade she created to escape the pain. Incidentally, you can click here to listen to the rest of the song that begins playing at the end of the clip, "The Origin of Love"...
The story has many layers to it, but at its core, it’s about finding out who you are and not searching endlessly for your counterpart. The romantic notion that we’re all meant to be paired with a perfectly complimentary partner is fine, but first you’ve got to love yourself. That’s what “Hedwig and the Angry Inch” is peddling, the notion that self-love must come before any sort of romantic love. It’s why it connects with everyone from the transgender people Hedwig represents—as a fully formed, three-dimensional character, I might add—to straight white kids from the suburbs.
More stories could do with protagonists as vulnerable as Hedwig, and more musicals could do with stylistic flourishes Mitchell brings to the table here. But more than anything, more movies could do with a notion as radical as loving yourself. In a time when more and more people are questioning their identities and societal norms and wrestling with all of this stuff, it’s comforting to know that “Hedwig” already made the journey to hell and back, and there’s healing to be found in her story. No matter who you are, or where you are in your own journey, it’s a story worth hearing.
Catch up with our other editions of Anatomy of a Scene's Manatomy...
—Two of History's Manliest Men Wrestle Naked in Women in Love
—Ewan McGregor Has Got It, Flaunts It in Velvet Goldmine
—A Pair of Stars are Born in Y Tu Mamá También
—Harvey Keitel Goes Hog Wild in Abel Ferrara's Bad Lieutenant
—Viggo Mortensen is Naked From Every Imaginable Angle in Eastern Promises
—There's No Shame is Michael Fassbender's Dick Game
—Kevin Bacon Steals the Show Going Full Frontal in Wild Things
—How We Met Jason Segel's Dick in Forgetting Sarah Marshall
—Jack Reynor is Uniquely Vulnerable for a Man in Midsommar
—Jaye Davidson Knows All There is to Know About The Crying Game
—David Bowie Battles Rip Torn for Dick Supremacy in The Man Who Fell to Earth
—Al Pacino Doesn't Get In All That Deep for William Friedkin's Cruising
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Header image courtesy of Criterion
