I just want to be loved, is that so wrong?

I love Harvey Fierstein. Let me repeat that: I LOVE Harvey Fierstein, and if he wasn't gay, I would want to have his babies. Okay, maybe I exaggerate slightly, but even so, I love this wonderful actor.

Torch Song Trilogy is a semi-autobiographical story. The film is based on the highly successful play penned by Fierstein, and like the film, stars its writer. (Thank God!) It is about coming out, about coping, about love, parenting, relationships, and society. It is a beautiful film. For the record, the title of this review does not show up in the entire movie, it is a line attributed to Fierstein by Saturday Night Live's writers which he never spoke, but it still manages to capture the main character's essence, so I used it. Also, something to be aware of is that Torch was written in the pre-AIDS era, and so contains no mention of that killer disease. Personally, I find it refreshing to see a film about gay people that doesn't focus in on AIDS. Perhaps if it had been written more recently it would include the issue, but it would get in the way of the real story of Arnold.

Told in three parts, Torch begins with Harvey's character, Arnold, working as a female impersonator in New York, and falling in love with a bisexual man, Ed (played beautifully by Brian Kerwin). Ed is very closeted about his sexuality, and eventually he and Arnold split up. Enter Alan.

Alan is played by Matthew Broderick, reprising his own role in the stage production. Alan and Arnold meet when Alan goes to the club with some of his co-workers (Alan is a fashion model), who behave like jerks, vocally bashing the gay performers, unaware that their friend Alan happens to be gay. Arnold and Alan fall in love, and before they know it, they've been invited to visit Ed and his girlfriend up at Ed's farm. They go, and Ed and Alan do the nasty in the barn. Oops! Everything works out, though.

Back in New York, Alan and Arnold discover in the second part of the film that their application to adopt a teenager has been approved, and they move into a new apartment. On the night that they move, Alan is beaten to death in a street brawl with gay bashers.

One of the most heart rending scenes is when Arnold, upstairs in the apartment, hears sirens and looks outside to see emergency vehicles there. He goes downstairs just in time to see Alan, his face covered with blood, being loaded into an ambulance. Fierstein's facial expression is too real to be acting, and I sincerely believe that this part of the film is solidly based on his own experiences.

The third part of the film opens with Arnold stalking down the high school corridor in his bathrobe and bunny slippers to pick up his adopted son, David, who has just been suspended for fighting. Back at the apartment we discover Ed preparing breakfast, he is staying on Arnold's couch because he and his wife have split up. Arnold is suffering extreme angst because his mother is coming to town for a visit, and his mother has never accepted the fact that her son is gay.

Ma, played by Anne Bancroft, is brilliant. She is the epitome of the Brooklyn Jewish Mother, and her rants and diatribes are perfectly scripted and perfectly performed. The fierce battle that rages between Ma and Arnold throughout the last scene is an eye opener and a shocker, particularly the point where Arnold tells his mother that he loves her, but that if she cannot accept him as he is, he has no room in his life for her any longer. As the fight progresses, it slowly winds down until, for what is obviously the first time ever, mother and son are truly listening to each other, really hearing what the other has to say.

The closing scene, where Arnold is alone in the apartment, sitting in a chair, embracing the items he has gathered from around the living room - a bag of oranges Ma brought from Florida, Ed's sunglasses, David's baseball hat, and a photograph of Alan, is beautiful. He just sits there, his arms around these icons that represent the people he loves, and he smiles.

Beautiful film, Harvey. Beautiful film.