“FINDING FIRE ISLAND” – A DOCU-PODCAST SERIES FEATURING JOEL KIM BOOSTER, MARGARET CHO, MATT ROGERS, DJ LINA BRADFORD, PAUL RUDNICK AND MORE – DEBUTS ON JULY 6 VIA BROADWAY PODCAST NETWORK
“Finding Fire Island” – a docu-podcast series which brings to life how a sleepy, 19th century beach town became a modern day queer mecca for artists and the New York City theater community – debuts on July 6via Broadway Podcast Network. Queer history has often been told through the lens of loss and disappearance but Fire Island has transcended that to survive as a stunning fantasy world and cultural touchstone. “Finding Fire Island” takes its listener behind the curtain of the mystique, legends and lore of the LGBTQ+ communities (Cherry Grove and The Pines) from folks who experienced their evolution from the 1950s to today.
“Finding Fire Island” features Joel Kim Booster, Margaret Cho, Matt Rogers, the iconic DJ Lina Bradford, screenwriter Paul Rudnick (Sister Act, The First Wives Club), Brian Moylan (Vulture, author of The Housewives), Zach Stafford (former editor-in-chief of The Advocate, Tony Award winner), cabaret director Ben Rimalower, and Cherry Grove legends Bob “Rose” Levine and Thom “Panzi” Hansen. A full talent list can be found here.
Watch the “Finding Fire Island” trailer here.
“Finding Fire Island” is created and executive produced by writer, producer and native New Yorker, Jess Rothschild. Since 2019, Jess has published and hosted the podcast “Hot Takes & Deep Dives,” centered on queer pop iconography and New York City culture. Jess has received acclaim from The Huffington Post and The New York Times for her interviews with Rosie O’Donnell, Sandra Bernhard, Isaac Mizrahi, Melissa Etheridge, Roxane Gay, Mario Cantone, The L Word creator Ilene Chaiken, Fran Drescher and more. Jess Rothschild was a founding writer for the largest independent LGBT website still in existence – Autostraddle – from 2009-2013.
Of “Finding Fire Island,” Jess Rothschild shares: “As a native New Yorker, Fire Island was intrinsically formative to my identity as a gay person. As my obsession with the history and culture of Cherry Grove and The Pines intensified over the years, I began collecting interviews with notable Fire Island figures, past and present. While working on this project, I realized that this is one of the rare pieces of media about Fire Island from the perspective of a woman.”
Comedian / actor Matt Rogers adds: “The thing about Fire Island is, it itself is such a story, but when you go, it becomes part of your story.”
Comedian / musician Margaret Cho notes: “It’s important to create art about Fire Island which really memorializes the history and the important figures. There are so many stories to tell from the island as this legendary queer mecca.”
“We're thrilled to welcome Jess Rothschild and the podcast ‘Finding Fire Island’ to the Broadway Podcast Network! The epic stories, influential storytellers and fascinating Fire Island lore will capture our audience completely,” Dori Berinstein, Co-Founder and CEO of Broadway Podcast Network, said.
“Finding Fire Island” is presented by the Broadway Podcast Network, with new episodes available starting on July 6 on BPN.FM or wherever you get your podcasts. Broadway Podcast Network is the premier digital storytelling destination for everyone, everywhere, who loves theatre and the performing arts.
Fire Island | FILM REVIEW
By Arnold Wayne Jones
What a difference a generation – and medical advances – can make. More than 30 years ago, the seminal gay movie Longtime Companion opened with a sense of orgiastic abandon: A group of gay friends embrace their unabashed sexuality by ferrying to queer summer Mecca Fire Island, frolicking at unbridled, sweaty, molly-fueled tea dances, cruising other bikini-wearing studs and hooking up in the dunes with flagrant horniness. The next 90 minutes of that film, though, then portray the ravages of the then-rampaging AIDS epidemic. It’s a beautifully humane tragedy full of both empathy and rage, a movie every gay man knows (or should know) but which doesn’t enjoy the legacy it deserves because of its downbeat, political tone.
So when the new hom(0)-rom-com Fire Island (which debuts June 3 on Hulu) opens with virtually the exact same establishing montages (helicopter shots of gayboys about to dock, overhead shots of throngs of half-naked partiers, flirtatious tracking shots of men strutting along wooded walkways), it’s impossible to ignore the probability that director Andrew Ahn and writer-star Joel Kim Booster know exactly what they are doing: They are reclaiming the images of an iconic gay drama for a world were PrEP, the “cocktail” and same-sex marriage rights have transformed the gay community … mostly (but not exclusively) for the better. The world of Fire Island is one of sexy bodies, romantic cliches … and NO disease (not even COVID!). It exists, happily, in the artificial twilight of skin-deep emotions, cheesy plot complications and tidily upbeat conclusions for all the characters we like (and humiliating sadness for those we don’t).
Which is to say, it’s awesome.
OK, so it’s not exactly “awesome,” but it does exude a sexy, post-lockdown energy that feels like a welcome relief after two years of quarantine. It is decidedly not Longtime Companion… or Moonlight, or Brokeback Mountain. Instead, Fire Island romps perkily through the garden of earthly delights previously relegated to heteronormative romances, joining that club while also subversively undermining it.
The gay rom-com is nothing new, of course, but the sly uniqueness of Fire Island is the decision to simultaneously wallow in the eye-candy of ripped, youth-centric Millennial self-indulgence while also arguing for diversity and body positivity. The three main characters – hunky, shallow Noah (Joel Kim Booster), his Eyeore-like buddy Howie (Bowen Yang) and his fussy rival Will (Conrad Ricamora) – are all Asian, as is the de facto comic den mother, played by Margaret Cho; but while ethnicity factors into the plot briefly, it’s not the point: These people are friends… they are gay friends… but this is not a variation of the yellowploitation genre. Booster and Ahn aren’t making a cultural document that aims to be both woke and celebratory, as you could say a Crazy Rich Asians is… unless that culture is angsty 30-something, gig-economy gays. Its agenda, if any, is couched in its casualness. Don’t misunderstand: it definitely traffics in the predictable – characters include a rail-thin chulo drag queen; a sexless, bearish Black comic relief; and a bitchy, Botoxed, roided-up golddigger. But the friendships are from a varied group of types where white boys aren’t the enemy and some Asian guys are dicks.
The plot hinges on people not saying things any normal person would in a similar situation because that would derail all the complications – but it also undercuts them with its quirky lightheartedness. I have to say, this is not something I was expecting from Ahn, whose first feature, Spa Night – a brooding drama about a closeted Korean teen working at a bathhouse – makes Longtime Companion look like a Bugs Bunny cartoon. He demonstrates effortlessness with the cotton candy plot, which involves (no surprise) a quintet of friends reuniting for what may be their last week together at their gay getaway. Promiscuous Noah has decided to keep his penis in his pants and instead dedicate his efforts at getting schlubby depressive Howie laid. There appears to be a prospect in Charlie (James Scully), a recently single doctor, but Charlie’s obnoxious rich buddies think Howie and company are beneath them (sadly, they are sorta right: they behave like assholes at a fancy party) which sparks some social dueling a la Revenge of the Nerds: Can Noah outfox the roadblocks erected by Will and Cooper (Nick Adams), while lightly pursuing daddy-in-training Dex (Zan Phillips)? But might Will not be the villain he seems?
That’s where the script goes off track. Will is less a hard-to-get romantic interest in the way of, say As Good As It Gets, than he is an outright humorless prig, whose sympathies come late and feel forced. Ricamora strives gamely to make him relatable, but the screenplay always goes for the easy gag in place of a character-driven motivation. You never really feel that Will and Noah would be right for each other, just as you don’t really dislike Dex as much as you’re supposed to when he turns out to be the “bad guy” everyone says he is.
No matter. There are too many snarky one-liners, too much joyously queer enthusiasm, too many sexy rippling abs to hold any animosity against the film. Yang reminds us why he’s such a charismatic presence on SNL, and Booster makes for a credible leading man, but the success owes as well to its decision to recast the imagery of Fire Island for froth, not death, with an inclusive cast where inclusivity is neither the gimmick nor the point. It’s the perfect kick-off to Pride Month and a shiny summer of cinema.