"The Normal Heart" (2014)

(This is the second in a 2-part review of narrative films about the social and political effects of AIDS. While the demographics are different—the Coronavirus is attacking an entire world while AIDS was then considered a disease of a maligned and marginalized minority--the feelings of uncertainty and desperation of the Covid-19 crisis parallel those of that grim period during the AIDS outbreak of the 1980s.)

“The Normal Heart”, the HBO film adaptation of gay activist and author Larry Kramer's 1985 play, can be seen as the dark companion piece to the 1989 film “Longtime Companion”.  The latter was the first mainstream American movie to tackle the AIDS crisis. Kramer’s play was one of the first ever produced about the crisis (“As Is” had its New York debut one month earlier).

While “Longtime Companion” examines the personal cost of AIDS and aims for the heart, “The Normal Heart” wants to make you angry.  It exposes the combined ignorance of the Government, the medical establishment, and even the gay community in the outbreak’s early years.

This film is a wake-up call.  An indictment.  A primal scream of condemnation against those who have looked the other way,  deliberately ignored the issue, or allowed people to suffer and die out of sheer hate and fear.

It is a warning against complacency, an urgent plea for caution and compassion, but also a shouted question about shutting down the personal lives of those whose freedom was hard-won.  As we watch "The Normal Heart" today, there is a needling reminder about the challenges faced by a world that wants to take back its life, even as it is being decimated by a coronavirus that remains a mystery.

Kramer’s autobiographical play chronicles the struggles of his alter-ego, a writer named Ned Weeks. “The Normal Heart” is a blast-furnace of Weeks' rage that sears us to our seat.  As difficult as this film is to watch at times, you just can’t look away.

We endure the struggles Ned faces: fighting the office of New York Mayor Ed Koch and the Reagan administration for recognition and funding; questioning the neglectfulness of the AMA and National Institutes of Health; persuading the gay community of the life-and-death scenario ahead; and clashing with his own brother for understanding; as he establishes the group that became The Gay Men’s Health Crisis.  All the while, he suffers the heartbreak of friends dying horrible deaths, and a bittersweet romantic relationship with a handsome, closeted New York Times reporter who will soon succumb to the virus.

The film is a potent and concentrated mixture of public policy, medical tutorial, and personal drama, spanning four years.  Like “Longtime Companion”, “The Normal Heart” begins with that ominous New York Times article of July 3, 1981, citing “Rare Cancer Seen in 41 Homosexuals”.  Weeks has become a notorious figure for publishing a novel that is critical of the rampant promiscuity and drug use among a large segment of the gay male population.  (Kramer suffered terrible ostracism after his novel “Faggots” was released.)  The Times article frightens him into action and activism. 

He finds an ally in Dr. Emma Bookner, who is treating many gay men, who have had multiple partners, for rare infections and diseases that a normal immune system would easily fight off.  She encourages Ned, bluntly, to “tell gay men to stop having sex.”  There is an immediate and angry reaction against this, for personal, emotional, and political reasons: not enough is known to take such a drastic measure; that promiscuity is a political right; that it will destroy the community and drive more men back into the closet. 

No one can quite believe that having sex might result in death.  It is like the ultimate quarantine.  Upon hearing this statement at the inaugural meeting for the new health advocacy group, some attendees, who endured a lifetime of pain just to have the courage to be with another man, walk out in disgust.  It is riveting and disturbing.  When Emma sees this, Ned tells her, “Welcome to gay politics.”

As a member of the gay community I could see every side of the issue.  I feel a similar sense of conflict and ambiguity about an indefinite social-distancing order, or the mandatory wearing of masks. I know they are necessary; but I feel panic at the thought  that favorite aspects of my life, while nothing as intimate as sex, but as simple as going to the movies or sharing coffee at a table with friends, may be gone or changed forever.   

There are hot-button issues that are as yet unresolved.  Ned’s brother, an otherwise loving and caring sibling, masks his homophobia by telling Ned that as a group, the gay community has a “dreadful image problem”. Ned, who is witness to some extreme behavior, can’t totally disagree, but demands that Ben sees him as his equal, or will stop speaking to him.  Political figures who might be instrumental in providing funding or influence are themselves closeted homosexuals and refuse to address the issue.  AIDS patients in crumbling hospital facilities can’t even get staff members to bring meals into their rooms, or have repairmen fix their televisions, out of irrational fear.

The movie escalates into scenes of unforgettable power, which had me shaken:

One of Ned’s friends (who is also Ned's nemesis at the GMHC), tells how he had to transport his dying partner, suffering from nausea and dementia, on a plane to Phoenix that nobody wanted to fly, among a group of horrified passengers that didn't want him there, to see his mother for the last time.  The hospital refused to issue a death certificate; the body is bagged and dumped in the trash outside, as his mother weeps in mourning.

Emma confronts a medical examiner, who tells her that her desperately needed research funding was not approved.  In a startling monologue of passionate intensity, she blames the NIH for delaying the application for funding, and for refusing to work with French scientists on a promising discovery, so that the Americans can “steal a Nobel Prize”.

Ned’s partner Felix is in the final stages of illness, covered with sores and crumpled on the floor.. He releases his pent-up fury at Ned, who lashes back at him, before a heartbreaking reconciliation; later, they hold an unofficial wedding ceremony at Felix’ deathbed.

Ned is a confrontive fighter while his group at GMHC prefers a more reasoned approach.  Mickey, Ned’s friend, a volunteer and health writer, suffers a breakdown, under extreme pressure for, among other things, the uncertainty of the virus, the possibility that everything he fought for as a gay man (like loving openly and without guilt) might turn out to be wrong, the myriad unproven theories (genetic predisposition, monogamy, “herd immunity”, sex, blood, drugs, poppers, etc. ) that lead nowhere, and the resentment of those in high places whom Ned has alienated.

Ryan Murphy directs a powerhouse cast, all of whom unleash torrents of emotion in their skillful rendering of Kramer’s remarkable, raw screenplay.  

As Ned, Mark Ruffalo channels his anger and pain to an extent that allows the viewer a vicarious release at the “idiots” who can’t see the disaster that is growing more tragic every day.  Ruffalo captures the relentlessness of Kramer's activism as Ned, and is able to convey subtle layers of hurt in private moments when he feels like an outsider. (Ruffalo would go on to another angry crusader in his role as a journalist in “Spotlight” the following year.) 

Alfred Molina, in a brief but memorable role as Ben, has the imposing presence and gentility of a brother who learns painful lessons in acceptance.  

Matt Bomer is especially fine as Felix.  This is more than a triumph of makeup effects; I have never seen Bomer so honestly emotional behind his normally cool countenance. 

Jim Parsons and Joe Mantello must be singled out. Parsons is Tommy, a wickedly funny but especially compassionate volunteer, who saves the Rolodex cards of friends who have died of AIDS; by the end, he has more than fifty.  Mantello as Mickey walks the fine line between being supportive and playing Devil's advocate. Mantello  portrays Mickey's breakdown with intensifying rage and confusion, in a scene  that can bring a viewer to tears.

The true revelation is Julia Roberts as Dr. Emma Brookner.  Emma is based on Dr. Linda Laubenstein, who made the earliest connection between Kaposi’s Sarcoma and AIDS, and dedicated her short life (she died at age 45) to HIV research. For a time she was the only doctor in New York who treated AIDS patients.  Roberts is tough, focused, angry, and competent as Emma, a character who suffers the effects of polio as a youngster and uses a wheelchair.  Robert’s unrestrained rage at the doctors who withhold her funding inspires awe.  I have never seen her so strong; you just believe completely everything she tells you.

One brief exchange between Ned and Emma speaks volumes about the AIDS crisis, the hope for a vaccine, and the world of uncertainty we face during the coronavirus pandemic:

Ned: What are we supposed to do…be with nobody, ever? Well, it’s not as easy as you might think.

Emma: …Polio is a virus, too. I caught it three months before the Salk vaccine was announced. Nobody gets polio anymore.

I want to believe that, if and WHEN a coronavirus vaccine is found, nobody will get Covid-19 any more.

For whatever reasons (the fact that HIV is a rapidly mutating virus, that is contracted much differently that respiratory or gastrointestinal viruses; or maybe a continuing stigma of HIV as a “gay” disease), there is still no AIDS vaccine.    

I am still hopeful that we can hold Covid-19 at bay, just like we did after the 1918 flu pandemic.

For a riveting dramatic film, one that will give voice to feelings of anger and frustration against the AIDS pandemic and the coronavirus crisis, I highly recommend “The Normal Heart”.

(The title comes from a poem by W.H. Auden, called "September 1, 1939", whose final line reads "We must love one another or die.")