C.R.A.Z.Y. is a flawed but charming film that gently probes the thorny space where a chest-thumping heterosexual father and his beloved but secretly gay son struggle to keep their love for each despite the son's homosexuality dragging a love for make-up and cock into the picture.   While the usual crew of gay whingers have complained about how the film isn't "gay enough" they miss its numerous merits and have instead churn out well-rehearsed tirades about how in this film we don't see two guys tongue kiss each other, have sex, pontificate about being gay and the usual roll-out of complaints which regular readers of this website will know I have no tolerance for.  

Zac (Emile Vallée) is the fourth of five boys in a devoutly Catholic, Québécois family headed up by Gervais (Michel Côté), a diligent father who collects Patsy Cline records and sings Charles Aznavour songs at weddings and parties, and Laurianne (Danielle Proulx), a plain-Jane homemaker who is invariably found in the kitchen or in Church on Sundays. As Zac was born on Christmas Day and bears a strange patch of blond hair at his nape, Laurianne believes he carries a Christian "gift", a suspicion confirmed by the local mystic, a jaded chain-smoker who sells Tupperware. Zac can do no wrong in the eyes of his father, either, who takes Zac under his wing as a favorite son. One day, Gervais is rattled when he bursts in on Zac dressed in his mother's dressing gown and pearls, and in voiceover narration Zac notes that the "war" between him and his father breaks out at this point.

Resultanltly a pre-teen nervous wreck (asthmatic, compulsive bed wetter), Zac prays to not turn out a fairy - the epithet his father spat at him as a six year old, which he pretended not to understand but in his words, "knew full well what it meant, and knew that [he] didn't want to be one".

But you can't always get what you want, and as the sensitive little Zac grows into his adolescence (and Marc-André Grondin takes over the role) a love for David Bowie and his cousin's sexy boyfriend consume his every moment. He starts taking beatings from his brothers and school mates for wearing glam make up, and his once-besotted father pulls way away. When Gervais catches Zac making out with another boy, he sends his son straight to a psychiatrist. Years later, when he catches him in the clutches of another man, he expels him from the family altogether. Thus banished, Zac embarks on a magical mystery world tour, which takes him from Israel to Europe and the deserts of Morocco.

C.R.A.Z.Y. (the title is made up of the initials of the five sons) is a most refreshing take on the gay coming-of-age genre, an overused template which has churned out one trite film about homophobia after another (Presque Rien and Garcon Stupide are two more recent examples). Usually, in these films, woe-is-me young homos float about in a melancholy haze waiting for the world to be less cruel, or until that powerful injection of Gay Pride kicks in, and they subdue all their enemies with hair-tossing speeches about intolerance and how enlightened they are and so on. Though many gay commentators have lamented the subtle presence Zac's homosexuality has in the film (director Vallée has said that this "isn't a gay film" much to the enragement of said commentators), what's been lost in translation for them is that this is not a bang-the-drum polemic film about coming out, but a sentimental and thoughtful film about the relationship between an old-fashioned father and his gay son. Zac's reluctance to nurture his attraction to other boys and Gervais' increasing aversion to his once-cherished son aren't examples of "self-loathing" and "homophobia" but, rather, of the frustration, anger and sadness that results when a rich friendship that should have lasted a lifetime becomes infected with a terminal condition.

Performances are strong, particularly Proulx's devoted mother, and also sexy Pierre-Luc Brillant, who plays Zac's doomed junkie-layabout older brother Raymond. In the leads, Côté is convincing as a loyal family man whose attempts at stern discipline are undermined by his endearingly marshmallow heart. His increasing heartbreak over Zac seems sincere and is very affecting. Again, it's great to see the other side of the story for a change - things can be hard for a gay teen, but also for their conservative fathers, who must also feel a loss when they know they're never going to have an especially close relationship with their gay son. Charismatic Grondin underplays marvelously, potentially overwrought scenes anchored by his dreamy-eyed stillness. Peripheral cast members have less to work with, especially the other three brothers, of which only Alex Gravel as Antoine made any real impression on me, and only then because he's the family jock, and wanders around in tight t-shirts and an army crew cut. Natasha Thompson as Michelle, Zac's besotted pseudo-girlfriend, does a good job in her in-and-out role.

Problems include a surfeit of such characters, brought together at one-too-many family Christmas or wedding scenes. Innumerable uncles and various in-laws crowd the film and we don't learn, or need to learn, anything about them, while other characters, such as Michelle and the fascinating blond boy who Zac has a quick high-school fling with, are left relatively underdeveloped. Dream sequences are rarely successful at the best of times, and one of the many in this film, where a teenage Zac passing a boring Midnight Mass by dreaming that the choir is singing a groovy tune that lifts him off the ground in Ascension pose all the way to the cathedral ceiling was lost on me. Further to that, Zac's alleged devotion to music is treated as assumed knowledge - we don't really see him engage with music in any way beyond idolising rock and pop stars as a teenager - what teenager doesn't? - and there's nothing in the story or Zac's development that relies on or illustrates his passion for music. The Christ-allegory thread seems to be a blow-in from a separate film, and it reaches its nadir when Zac wanders into the desert and collapses from heat and thirst before being rescued by a shapeshifting guardian angel.

But C.R.A.Z.Y. isn't ruined by these flaws. It could have had thirty minutes chopped out, and losing the sections listed above would have been a good start on that, but there's a beautiful charm to the film, and its surprisingly thoughtful take on its worn-out storyline is a welcome change of tune.

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