In a nightmare of capitalistic gender binaried cisheteronormativity, the magazines Cosmopolitan and Maxim have taken on lives of their own, and they wear the faces of Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey. Cosmopolitan decides to mimic her awkward autistic friend to prove how even someone as hot as Kate Hudson can drive away any decent, rational, properly heterosexual, extremely masculine, sports- and cigar- and poker-loving man. She can’t wait for the opportunity to write about politics (vaguely, something about Tajikistan) but first she must manipulate a man into rejecting her for being bubbly, socially inappropriate, goofy, and demanding.

Meanwhile, Maxim has no leg to stand on, because he’s hoping to leverage his control over Cosmopolitan’s heart to make her actually fall in love and prove to his slimy boss that he deserves an ad account. He is competing with two incredibly hot women who should get anything they want and wield their sexuality to this effect. “MENNNN like you don’t know what WOMENNNN want,” they say, hotly, and I honestly don’t wanna criticize. I love them.

The movie rides a charming high on the frothing chemistry between McConaughey and Hudson, who are equally matched in being the whitest human beings, charmingly rich, and in absolutely no risk of actual violence when accidentally running away with priceless jewelry to fight in a parking lot. I genuinely cackle at the antics, even though you cannot regard these characters as actual human beings without suffocating on the weight of arbitrary gender expectations.

The extremely taupe-colored love story is not nearly as fun after the point where we go home to Maxim’s home to meet some cop holding a baby, and the premise of these magazines manipulating each other turns into yawn-worthy low drama that plucks out a couple standard tropes for the resolution and doesn’t even bother to customize them for the concept. He interrupts her on her journey to a job interview to make out on a bridge. The end.

PS, the love fern was nowhere near dying. Ferns die so much more than that.

Image source: Paramount Pictures

Next time you watch this, I challenge you to see it as a deliberate gay farce. Henry Higgins is clearly a drag queen teaching a lower class Eliza Doolittle, cis lesbian, how to femme it up for high society.

I’d like to argue this was entirely deliberate: the movie is entirely too funny to be unselfaware about the impact of Rex Harrison swanning through a song like “Why Can’t a Woman Be More Like a Man?” when he’s been wearing crushed purple velvet and flapping his hands at the wrist like he’s swatting rainbow gnats.

This man dismisses beautiful young Eliza when he first sees her because he can’t wait to get home with Colonel Pickering, who Higgins seems to live with, and who is the target of this song pining for more masculinity in women.

Pickering and Higgins together are the bitchiest old queens. They are the arbiters of femininity. Though they are both obligate bachelors (expressed in the same coded language once used to describe aging gay men), Pickering knows the good dress shops. Why, Higgins asks? With different performances, we might think Pickering is treating his many lovers, but in this performance, it’s easy to think Pickering likes to dress up himself. Eliza even asks if Pickering will expect to have her dresses when she leaves (because he bought them, of course, but even so–)

This doesn’t substantially change the relationship between Higgins and Eliza! Queer relationships are complicated. There can be intense intimacy without following the linear treadmill of heterosexual relationship milestones (courting, engagement, marriage, children, MONOGAMY, lifelong, etc). When a fabulous, larger-than-life, legendary-in-society drag queen takes humble little dyke Eliza under her arm, who is to say Eliza can’t fall for Miss Higgins? and vice versa?

Indeed, Eliza expresses the opposite of desire for sex with Higgins. She says she doesn’t want to make love to him. She wants to be close to him. She sees the grand, fabulous, worldly beauty of Miss Higgins. Eliza is genuinely grateful for the embiggening of her life with this fancy fussy fellow who wears a *lot* of purple velvet. She has no use for Freddy. She’s not into *guys* like that.

Higgins is head over heels for Eliza too. It is this obsession that makes their relationship compelling in this performance: Eliza is a doll for Higgins and oh boy he needs to be able to act out his queer dress-up gender affirmative urges on her. Once he knows that she can read him as well as he can read her, that’s it. Miss Higgins cannot *breathe* without Eliza.

Hence, both of them are happy with the slipper situation at the end, uneven as it seems, because both of them have what the other wants, and they’re fine with the status quo (as long as Miss Higgins stops being such a bitch *sometimes*).

I’d also like to add that Eliza’s speech about her aunt’s straw hat while Higgins dances around, dying in the background, is actually the funniest speech in cinema ever.

Image credit: Warner Bros Studios

Floating on the sheer youthful effervescence of an eager Hugh Jackman, Kate & Leopold is a parable about the sacrifices we make to thrive in capitalist discomfort, and the fantasy of having somewhere to escape it.

This analysis doesn’t work on a rational level; this old timey rich dude hooking up with an account executive is not exactly the most fertile ground for a literalist anticapitalism commentary. I’m also not entirely convinced that the writer would claim a darn thing to say about That C Word, but I’m using it because what we see Kate struggling in is American capitalism when its shine is wearing off.

In order to excel in business, Kate has sacrificed something soft & slow to masculinize herself. She dresses in suits and does not waste time with feminine frippery that would make others judge her. Everyone she spends time with are men. Presumably, it’s some kind of victory that her boss thinks she’s as good as a man; unfortunately, he also keeps making aggressive passes at her too. Sacrifice has given her success but not safety or satisfaction.

We may then see Leopold as a figure representing her alternative. He is disappointed to marry for money, preferring to shun such maneuvers so he can nerd out about elevators and erections. And it’s his disappointment in Kate’s willingness to shill a subpar product that shakes her out of her “this success is everything for me” to realize “actually I don’t want this??”

More than offering Kate a vision of a slower life de-prioritizing profits, he provides gender affirmation to Kate by treating her like a ~lady~, while also loving her for the intelligence and passion she shows. Kate has formed herself into a storm and Leopold loves the power. Old Timey Nerd Himbo stans a strong futch bitch.

It might seem like a regressive ending, but it’s really Kate moving away from deep dissatisfaction with capitalism’s shallow rewards to try something…else. Something genuine. Love is a good start.

I remain convinced that the ending isn’t how the couple ended up, but only a stepping stone to further fabulous time travel adventures.

The time travel mechanic only works in a way that specifically serves the story; you shouldn’t come to K&P hoping for a more romantic Back to the Future. A lot of the story doesn’t really work if you take anything too seriously. The heart of the movie is carried by the performances of actors who understand that this is about some kind of longing for Better, not just in love, but in life.

image credit: Miramax