Sapphic Cinema: “Elena Undone”
Few films, lesbian or otherwise, frustrate me as much as Elena Undone. I’ve only seen it a couple of times (though after this rewatch I am convinced I should begin every day with a screening) but it has always stayed with me as the quintessential lesbian film. Released in 2010 and directed by Nicole Conn (who also gave us Claire of the Moon, the quintessential lesbian nightmare), Elena Undone is so ridiculous that it almost feels wrong to make fun of it. Almost. It is utterly humorless, and yet if it took itself a single shade more seriously, it would be an impressive self-parody. Its heart is in the right place, but its tank top is tucked into its jeans.
We know we’re in for a wild ride from the outset, when the title cards promise that this film is “based on true stories.”
COME CLOSE, CHILDREN, AND I WILL TELL YOU OF THE LONGEST KISS IN ALL LESBIANISM.
So in one corner you have Elena (Necar Zadegan, who is a good actor and the picture of grace, and presumably made this film because the casting director shot arrows into her room). Elena is the bored, unfulfilled wife of a pastor.
I AM SO DONE.
DON’T YOU MEAN YOU’RE…UNDONE?
Her husband is a failed actor who turned to the church because it is the only institution other than Hollywood where the sole required condition is that you be a handsome white man whom nobody thinks is gay. The Reverend’s flock expects him to oppose homosexuality, and he obliges them, because he would say literally anything to ensure that people continue to look at him and assure him that he does in fact exist. But even the gay rights agenda in this film feels worn out. Elena and The Pastor have successfully weaned a son, Nash, whose hair is made of noodles.
Nash is 16, but his girlfriend lives with Elena’s family, after her own folks kicked her out for being TOO QUIRKY. She also wears neckties a lot because, like everything else in this movie, she is trapped in the year 2000.
In the other corner, we have Peyton (Traci Dinwiddie) who has known she was a lesbian since she knew her name was “Peyton.” There’s just nothing else you can do with that a name like that but strap on a Leatherman, adorn yourself with turquoise, and commit. Peyton is a successful self-help writer whose book is called—and I swear I’m not making this up—Trust: Who Needs It?
Also, her mom just died, she’s agoraphobic, and her ex-wife cheated on her. We’re supposed to believe that these things make her just as vulnerable as Elena, but Peyton doesn’t seem that sad or afraid of the outdoors, so it’s hard to take her problems seriously.
Petyon has a best friend who is also gay and Irish and usually drunk and who is my favorite part of the movie.
And then there’s this idiot.
This is Elena’s friend and self-described love guru, Tyler (Sam Harris, whose IMDB page describes him as the “original American Idol”). Like The Pastor, Tyler is also a failed actor, who abandoned his craft for unlicensed counseling in West Hollywood, the only other institution for which the only necessary qualification is that you are a white man who seems a little bit gay. He’s not gay, though. He’s just really invested in everyone finding their “twin flame.” He’s even making a documentary on the subject, vignettes from which frame the film. They’re When Harry Met Sally-style chronicles of improbably love, but because the narrators are not adorable old people, the conceit doesn’t really work.
Tyler hosts these love mixers (which remind one of nothing so much as Gilderoy Lockhart’s Valentines Day Celebration) for people to find their soul mates. The idea that everyone is entitled to One True Love, and if you merely let a creep sing at you in soft lighting, you will get it, is exactly the kind of thinking that makes everyone hate Los Angeles. Nevertheless it is there that our two protagonists meet (actually technically they met earlier at an adoption meeting, but that subplot is irrelevant.
