ABSTRACT
A camera pans down the façade of Barcelona Cathedral and comes to rest; bells toll as a square, black car draws up; a man in a white suit gets out and opens the door for an older woman in black, whom he leads towards the cathedral as the camera rises again; extras in black, white or beige 1920s costume mill about in front of the grey cathedral; a horse and carriage passes by. This is the opening shot of Un Hombre llamado ‘Flor de Otoño’; 1 the man is the protagonist, Lluis, the woman his mother and they are at once established as part of the spectacle of heritage. This presentation of a well-lit, well-dressed world continues with scenes of Lluis at dinner in the well appointed bourgeois flat he shares with his mother. Then he leaves after coffee and we next see him in bed with a man, Alberto, in a sleazy part of town. It is dark and tacky, homosexual, the antithesis of heritage. Yet the trajectory of the film is to effect a reconciliation of heritage and homosexuality. Moreover, and surprisingly, given its middlebrow respectability and focus on a homophobic past, heritage cinema in general has been surprisingly hospitable to homosexual representation. This is the subject of this chapter.
