By Erin Free
In this regular column, we drag forgotten made-for-TV movies out of the vault and into the light. This week (just after The Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras): the 1993 drama And The Band Played On, a compelling and deeply moving look at the early, highly divisive days of AIDS.
When the spectre of AIDS raised its ugly, destructive head in the 1980s, Hollywood was slow to respond. Television came first (as it so often did with pressing social issues in the 1970s and 1980s), with the excellent telemovie, An Early Frost (1985), starring Aidan Quinn, Gena Rowlands and Ben Gazzara, tackling the subject head on with quiet power and admirable sensitivity. Cinematically, independent filmmaker Bill Sherwood also provided a thoughtful, moving and occasionally very funny platform for the topic with his brilliant ensemble comedy drama Parting Glances in 1986.
By 1993, however, Hollywood was ready to deal with the subject of AIDS, and director Jonathan Demme was first into the breach with his Oscar nominated hit drama Philadelphia. That same year, however, there was an even better film made about AIDS, and once again, it was produced for TV. Rather than network television, however, And The Band Played On was made by the pioneering HBO network. An early major player on America’s cable TV scene (and obvious precursor to the streaming services of today), HBO was not bound by the same guidelines on language, violence and sexual content that proved so restrictive on network television, leading to the creation of much bold product.
Throughout the 1980s, and particularly the 1990s, the culture-shifting HBO produced a slew of groundbreaking TV series (The Sopranos, Deadwood, Six Feet Under, Sex And The City and so on) and top-tier, award-winning, high-quality telefilms. Along with the stellar likes of Citizen Cohn (1992), Barbarians At The Gate (1993), Citizen X (1995), Gia (1998), The Rat Pack (1998), and many more, And The Band Played On (which was actually given a limited theatrical release in Australia) was one of the best of HBO’s telefilms, and still remains one of the finest and most informative films ever made about AIDS.
Based on the book by groundbreaking gay journalist Randy Shilts (The Mayor Of Castro Street, Conduct Unbecoming: Gays And Lesbians In the US Military From Vietnam To The Persian Gulf), executive produced by frequently qualitatively questionable TV godhead Aaron Spelling (don’t let that put you off!), and directed with brisk but sensitive assurance by accomplished craftsman Roger Spottiswoode (Under Fire, Air America, Turner & Hooch, The Matthew Shepard Story), And The Band Played On plays out like a complex detective story, as a group of committed but underfunded scientists (led by Matthew Modine’s heroic Dr. Don Francis, who burns with a fierce passion and sense of justice, while continually working against almost insurmountable odds) discover and then try to isolate the AIDS virus.
Once tracked to the gay community, a political can of worms is opened, as suggestions are made about the curbing of certain lifestyle choices to stave off the spread of the virus. The gay community, oppressed and marginalised for so long, justifiably responds with outrage. This is beautifully played out in a fiery, highly effective scene in which Dr. Don Francis confronts an angry group of gay men and attempts to dissuade them from continued promiscuity, particularly in the famed bathhouses of the gay community. Donal Logue delivers a fine performance here as gay activist Bobbi Campbell, who elucidates the layers of complexity in this tragic situation.
As something of a purpose piece, several major stars (including the likes of Steve Martin, Anjelica Huston, Lily Tomlin, and Phil Collins) took on cameo and supporting roles in And The Band Played On to give it the highest possible profile and to offer public support for the fight against AIDS and to align themselves as allies to the gay community. Amongst the most interesting players are an especially silky and charismatic Richard Gere – then at the height of his movie stardom, and whose first-off-the-bat involvement with the film encouraged many of its other eventual major players – as a gay choreographer (based on Broadway legend Michael Bennett) who sees the writing on the wall in terms of the virus’ grim march forward; Swoosie Kurtz as a woman who learns that she’s contracted AIDS from a transfusion; Ian McKellen as Bill Kraus, a prominent leader in the gay community; and Alan Alda as Dr. Robert Gallo, an oily, unctuous, self-serving scientist who tries to take the credit for discovering the AIDS virus.
Though it plays smoothly and seamlessly, And The Band Played On was fraught with production problems, with Spottiswoode bristling under the constant involvement of HBO (“A film dealing with an enormously sensitive subject has become hopelessly politicised by a studio that appears to be terrified of its contents and now seeks to bowdlerise them,” the director said), who had major concerns about the project, considering the justifiably vocal input of various involved communities about their portrayals in the film. The late Randy Shilts, the author of the book that started it all, was somewhat ambivalent about the film. “It’s not exactly the movie I would have made,” Shilts told Entertainment Weekly, “but I’m not really unhappy with it. When I hear other authors talk about their movie experiences, I realise that I was blessed.”
Despite the bitterness that surrounded its production and later release, And The Band Played On remains a vital entry in the depiction of AIDS and the gay community on American television. Moving at a hectic pace, richly characterised, entertainingly “starry”, and filled with sequences of genuine heartbreak, And The Band Played On is as moving and unforgettable as it is important.
Availability: Released on DVD several years back in the US, And The Band Played On is fairly easy to find in very good condition.
If you enjoyed this review, check out our other vintage telemovies The Jericho Mile, Death Car On The Freeway, Mongo’s Back In Town and Tribes.
