Queer Identities, DIY Influences: In Conversation with James Duval

Totally F’ed Up (1993), The Doom Generation (1995), and Nowhere (1997) — 

Gregg Araki’s Teen Apolcaglye Trilogy defined the New Queer Cinema Movement, a genre characterized by its avant guard approach to challenging the conventions of identity and sexuality. Through its embodiment of teen alienation and hazy sexuality, Araki redefines traditional on-screen portrayals of the LGBTQ+ community. His characters are adolescent drifters, victims of violence and loneliness. They live on the fringes of society as they clash hertonormativity behind the indie 90s scene of southern California. 

At the center, actor James Duval stars in each of these films. His performances, characterized by raw authenticity and an unapologetic embrace of nonconformity, resonate with contemporary audiences who seek narratives that challenge societal norms and explore the multifaceted experiences of Queer identities. 

Duval joins me to discuss his relationship with Araki, his influences, and his response to the emersion of the New Queer Cinema movement. 

Well, to start, I read that you originally met Gregg in a coffee shop in Hollywood while you were record shopping. Could you tell me a little bit about this initial interaction?

Yeah, that's actually right on the nose true. I had just graduated from high school and I was living in the suburbs of Los Angeles, and I used to come out to the import record shops, you know, to get the singles with the B-sides and the imports with the bonus tracks. I used to frequent a cafe at 18 and made really good friends with the people who worked there. I used to see this kid in there all the time working and doing his homework, which was Gregg Araki. I didn't know he was a filmmaker. Over the course of a few months, when I would go in there, I would see him all the time and I thought,

‘I love Hollywood, what a great place. it's my whole life in front of me and then I can be here loitering, trying to find direction in my life, and here's someone who knows exactly what they're doing, doing all their homework on the other side of the cafe and we can coexist peacefully in the same place.’

You know, it's so much more open, I think, and then, you know, punk rock than the suburbs and it ended up being Gregg Araki who after a few months had seen me showing some headshots that I had gotten because I was interested in doing film acting. I'd done some theater when I was younger and that prompted him to come up to me and ask me if I was an actor, if I was interested in doing movies because he was this low budget, or as he put it, ‘no budget’ filmmaker who made these kind of avant-garde off-the-cuff DIY films and that he thought it would be great for one of the parts and he sent me the script, which was the script for Totally F'd Up and I fell in love with the script and the character right away. Interestingly enough I'd read for the character Stephen, for those that know the movie, who's the documentary filmmaker, you know, filming all the characters' lives, but I ended up playing the character of Andy, the best friend. I don't want to spoil the movie because I almost did, but that started this beautiful relationship between Gregg and I where it just seemed like synchronicity was in place. We had so much in common with the music that we loved and the way that we kind of saw the world. In a lot of ways, Gregg gave me direction because like I said, I didn't know what I was doing, or where I was going and so really becoming part of that trilogy is what gave me purpose. 

Were you ever hesitant to accept his offer? You weren't familiar with his work beforehand, so whenever he approached you with the script, were you already an actor, or were you excited to be a part of it? 

Well, you know, that's a great question. I had done theater and I was attending acting classes, but I didn't know who he was and I didn't know much about independent film other than Peter Greenway's The Cook, the Thief's Wife and Her Lover, the movie I saw when I was 17, a year before I met Gregg, and it shocked me and it unsettled me and it attracted me and it did, it sort of filled me with all these feelings I didn't know that movies could do because I hadn't watched movies quite of that caliber before. That was kind of my introduction to independent film, and when I read Gregg's script, I actually fell in love with it right away. The one thing I think that I really attached to is how I couldn't believe the way he was able to capture that feeling of sort of loneliness and desolation and the desire to be loved and to fit in and not finding your place and not finding that love and it kind of hit me hook, light, and sinker. I guess it was just kind of that synchronicity when we met, and it just kind of solidified everything after the first audition. Gregg had started a really beautiful working relationship with both of us. It still continues to this day. 

Its phenomenal that you guys have maintained that relationship after so many years. These films have definitely grown into cult classics. I see a lot of my peers, especially, really resonate with the characters and with yours and Gregg's work, particularly among queer identities. So how does it feel to have such an impact on today's youth through the relatability of your characters? 

It's, I mean, to be quite honest, I'm so blown away. Even when I was younger, I remember I used to get picked on a lot, and I cried a lot. I was different than the other kids, certainly.  I remember crying and telling them, ‘I'm going to show you one day, you're going to see why it's not okay to treat people like this. You're going to see.’ 

This is like six or seven, eight or nine crying and screaming this out at the bullies or people that were picking on me. I remember them just going, 

‘What am I going to see? What am I going to see?’ 

And if anything, the way I felt and the way I feel about it now is what we've shown them is that people matter, different people matter. Just because we're not the same, doesn't mean we don't have the right to be here as well, that we don't have the right to exist, that we don't have feelings and emotions, and that we're part of everything too. And Gregg gave me that. 

I think that he's very much ahead of the curve in that sense because he gave it to not only to my, or what I thought was my generation, but future generations. For us, it's really, really incredible because I don't think Gregg or I was thinking that we were going to make these movies to change the world. I was a part of Gregg's storytelling that was for a particular group of people that weren't being represented and that's really what we latched onto. It was so kind of organic and natural for us because the music that we listened to was the same way —  it wasn't top 40, you had to go out and search for it. A lot of people made fun of you for the music we listened to. It certainly wasn't mainstream. It was more like the bands who were doing it were making the music they wanted to make instead of succumbing or subscribing to the mainstream, or what the radios or the record company said, ‘this is the type of music you should do, this is what you should sing about.’

So we both were attracted to that sort of punk rock DIY sort of mentality and making the films along that way. Still to this day, we understand that our movies are not for everybody, but we do have a particular audience. To see that audience broaden and grow the way it has over the past few decades really has been, I think, more than we have ever hoped for. In that sense, I can die happy. 

Gregg kind of says the same thing, you know, especially with these remasters. When we're dead and gone, we've left behind a legacy that people can appreciate and can latch onto. It speaks to a certain group, and it's actually that an entire generation now. When it was, for us, just disaffected youth.

Yes, it certainly speaks to a lot of college-age students and youth. Even through all the bizarre aspects of the plot, the movies are ultimately really about acceptance of all kinds of people. That's what I love about them.

I've been talking about music all night and about how you and Gregg really adore the music that you include in your films, so I wanted to ask you — do you guys have a lot of music taste in common?  Do you think that's what originally helped you guys bond or did it draw Gregg to you?

Originally, when we met, he didn't know the type of music I listened to but rather quickly we both kind of discovered that we listened to the exact same music. I remember he came to my house and he did the wardrobe fitting. He was going through all my cassettes and he knew everything that I had, which to me was kind of amazing because it was with the other kids that I was always trying to turn them on to something I'd heard. Gregg was quite the opposite. In fact, he was turning me on to music that I wasn't aware of. He still does. 

For instance, I didn't know Slowdive and I didn't know Ride when I met him. He gave me this tape of Slowdive made a tape of the first three EPs. He handed it to me and said, ‘This is your character. This is his mindset. This is his emotion. This is what he listens to, and this is the feel of the movies that I'm going to be making”

That really sort of set a precedent for me and, I think, for all the actors. It’s really quite amazing because he did the same thing for Doom Generation too, where he'd given us —  Rose and Jonathan and myself —  all the cassette of our characters.

Well, what bands do you still resonate with today? Do you listen to the same music or has your taste evolved over the years? 

I'd like to think it evolved a bit more, but I definitely listen to the same music. I love the new Slowdive album, I love the new Ride. Most of the music that I'm listening to now, even the newer music, is sort of like a callback or a comeback to bands like Ariel and Topography. Another recent band that I've kind of fallen head over heels for, and Gregg has as well, is Boy Harsher. It's funny because when I first listened to it, I was like, ‘How does it have samples from like, almost sounds like skinny old Skinny Puppy albums?’ It's like conquering that sort of digital electronic world and creating this landscape or this mindscape and soundtrack of music that sort of becomes the soundtrack for our very lives. 

I remember when Gregg and I had met, I would drive, pick him up in my car, and just blast Skinny Puppy. I knew all the words from Rabies and I would sing it like a madman. Gregg loved it. It wasn't something to be critical of at all, whereas most of my other friends thought I was really quite nuts. So we can move from something like The Smiths or Ranger into Depechmode, all the way to Skinny Puppy and Front 242, My Life With a Thrill-Kill Cult. Ranging from all that sort of alternative industrial music, really, there's no greater gift. 

I think Gregg showed me when you find people who like your music, especially when you have to search that out, that's when you find your tribe. And you find your tribe and that's where you're safe and you can flourish with those people and grow. It's really been quite an incredible experience over the years to still sort of find the same semblance in music and then grow really in mostly in the same direction. I think it helps carry us to where we're at now after I've known Gregg for 32 years now since 1991.

I definitely agree. Music has certainly helped me find a lot of kindred spirits and lifelong friends. Though, as far as other inspirations go, do you ever find yourself resonating with other forms of media, whether that be film, literature, or art, beyond just music? 

Art Bergman in Canada, who's kind of like the Canadian Paul Westerburt or Canadian Lou Reed. He just had this new book come out, The Longest Suicide. I'm just beginning, but it's really quite amazing. To be able to go from the music to actually reading the books and about their lives. 

I know for a long time I was stuck on all these old beat poets. Then from there, also kind of garnering myself into like more, I think, obscure corners of music and of literature. I know certainly another band that I've been obsessed with since the 90s is called The Jazz Butcher. A lot of people don't know him. He comes from the same town as Bauhaus. He was one of the people that I had ended up meeting. It became a lifelong friendship for me until he passed away a couple of years ago. He turned me on to Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49. 

I find that through the music, I've been able to learn more about literature from the people that I love and respect. It kind of just pushes me in those directions. 

As I mentioned, You and Gregg have really become icons within the new queer cinema movement. Do you have a message for young queer identities today?

I do — stay true to yourself, never be ashamed of who we are and what we are, and what we want to do. Go out there and grab it and take it because it is yours for the taking. There are certainly going to be obstacles, but don't let those stand in the way.

I find Gregg the biggest inspiration. If we kind of listened to what everybody said, Hollywood would never have let us make these movies, much less be happy that we released them, especially at that time. You couldn't really talk about being queer, make queer movies. That really put us on the outside for a while. But that wasn’t as important as what it meant to be able to live with oneself, by staying true to who you are. And that’s the advice I have, stay true to yourself. Don't let anybody or anything get in the way of that. Any boundaries or barriers that come up, if they don't fit in, remove them. But always stay true to yourself because we don't have to answer to, anyone but ourselves.