Why every woman needs a GBF
Julia Roberts’s character got the guy in ‘My Best Friend’s Wedding’ — he just happened to be gay ... and fabulous, writes Sophie Donaldson
WITH the 20th anniversary of My Best Friend’s Wedding just a few months away, you might be gearing up to rewatch what is considered one of the best romantic comedies of all time. If so, you may be shocked to hear that the film, and its protagonist, almost got a very different ending.
Speaking last week to Entertainment Weekly, director PJ Hogan revealed why the studio scrambled to devise the final scene with which audiences are now so familiar.
Julia Roberts played Julianne, whom upon realising she was in love with her long-time and engaged best friend, set about sabotaging his wedding. The plan failed, he married his true sweetheart and Julianne met a new man in the closing scene. Well, she did until test audiences saw the film.
In short, they despised her. It seemed that a woman who followed her heart at another woman’s expense did not deserve happiness. The studio was also under pressure to keep Ms Roberts happy and so conceived a new ending in which she got her man — except that he was gay.
Played by the effervescent Rupert Everett, George is Julianne’s confidante throughout the film and appears at the very end, uttering that infamous line: “Maybe there won’t be marriage, maybe there won’t be sex, but by God there’ll be dancing!”
And thank God she didn’t get the guy in the end — a GBF (gay best friend) can be one of the most enduring relationships of a woman’s life.
Trust me, I know. I’ve spent my 20s indulging in friendships with various men of the homosexual persuasion. Brandon, Ronan, Stephen, Robin, James… not notches on my bedpost (or a little-known boy band) but just some of the gay men I’ve been lucky enough to call dear friends.
The dynamic between a gay man and woman is unlike any other friendship she will have. Unlike with a straight man there’s no underlying possibility that he or she might want more than friendship, and zero chance of a drunken encounter they’ll both immediately regret. Wonderfully, a gay man and a woman are diametrically opposed when it comes to sexual chemistry.
A GBF will always listen to a woman, not because by doing so there is a chance he’ ll score, but because he cares what she has to say. He will ogle her new love interest, whether they are male or female. He is a valuable asset when assessing the suitability of an outfit. Where a straight man is likely to shrug, dumbfounded, the GBF will tug a hemline up here, add some more hairspray there.
The GBF will indulge her love of Moulin Rouge and will happily sing I Will Survive into a karaoke mic with her. Even better, he’ll know all the words. Should anyone think I’m blindly doling out stereotypical patterns of gay men, please know that this is all based on my own experience.
My GBFs always twirl me around the dance floor, as George did for Julianne. We’ve laughed, we’ve cried, we’ve swapped clothes. They are fun and frivolous and frank in their emotions. One GBF takes me along as his personal shopper on payday so I can revel in the rush of retail endorphins, even though I’m not buying a thing. Another will happily watch Mean Girls with me on loop for hours. I trust all of them to give me frank advice although it might be harsh, particularly when it comes to my hair.
I think the reason these friendships work so well is that gay men adore women. In fact, they idolise them. They like bolshie women like Madonna and Lady Gaga just as much as they adore ice queens like Anna Wintour or goddesses like Ava Gardner. Some love women so much they emulate them on stage in drag.
I am not suggesting gay men are perfect — though Rupert Everett is damn close. They can be bitchy and cruel and misogynists, too. But there is an overarching respect for women that results in solidarity with the sisterhood; perhaps it’s because gay men know intimately well what it’s like to be maligned by alpha male archetypes.
Julianne’s new love interest was supposed to be played by John Corbett, best known for his role as Aidan, Carrie’s sometime boyfriend in Sex and the City. He’s the type of 6ft-something hunk straight women go crazy for, but give me Mr Everett any day. Far more fun, and most certainly a far better dancer.