“Hollywood is built on leveraging queerness,” Elliot Page writes in his painfully raw memoir. “Tucking it away when needed, pulling it out when beneficial.” Much of the book addresses the actor’s own negotiations with that hypocrisy.
Suddenly a star after his Oscar-nominated turn in Juno, Page, then still presenting as female, was immediately confronted with levels of homophobia that will surprise only the most naive observers. “One of the most famous actors in the world” approached him at a party and declared: “I am going to f**k you and make you realise you aren’t gay.” It says something about the indestructible strain of machismo in the industry that four or five actors announce themselves as plausible candidates for Page’s unnamed molester. That sense of (wilful?) incredulity became more aggressive when, in 2020, Page came out as a trans man. “When did you know?” someone asks. “As a trans guy it’s perpetual. Code for – I don’t believe you,” Page muses.
Relations with parents and step-parents are strained. The betrayal of friends still stings. For those struggling with similar crises, that sincerity will surely prove inspiring
Those searching for a traditional Hollywood memoir may be disappointed with Pageboy (and not just because of the predictably awful pun in the title). There is not much here about the mechanics of filmmaking. Juno is discussed, but mostly in terms of how its shooting and its success coloured the author’s interrogation of his sexuality. He remembers the fake belly on his pregnant character ensuring he was not “hyperfeminized”. The film promised “a space beyond the binary”.
Such contributions are characteristic of a text that, zipping backwards and forwards from childhood in Nova Scotia to Hollywood fame to early worries as a juvenile actor, reads more like an exercise in self-psychoanalysis than a linear history of celebrity ascent. Relations with parents and step-parents are strained. The betrayal of friends still stings. For those struggling with similar crises, that sincerity will surely prove inspiring. Page is also admirably aware of the advantages he has over those coping without the cushion of wealth and renown. Shortly after coming out as gay, he encounters a film on the abuse suffered by LGBTQ+ people in Uganda.
I went to the cinema to see Small Things Like These. By the time I emerged I had concluded the film was crap
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“Ellen, look how much these people risk, how much they face. You’re a coward,” he scolded himself. If nothing else, this engaging book confirms the author as nothing of the sort.
