The Queer Appeal of Brendan Fraser in "George of the Jungle"

Brendan Fraser has always appealed to queer desire, and his first major success shows why.

There’s been a great deal of chatter about Brendan Fraser’s potentially Oscar-winning turn in the film The Whale, which focuses on a gay man whose despair at the death of his partner has led to an obsession with eating that nudges him ever closer toward death. Of course, Fraser is no stranger to acting in queer films. In the 1998 film Gods and Monsters, for example, he played the hunky gardener who attracts the attention of the reclusive director James Whale (played by the divine Ian McKellen). It’s a rich and fascinating role, and Fraser gives it his all, showing that even at this early stage in his career he was an actor with tremendous rage.

And, for those of us gay boys who came of age in the mid-to-late-1990s, he was also in that iconic queer classic, George of the Jungle. 

What’s that? I can hear you asking. Since when is George of the Jungle a queer film? Isn’t it all about a well-muscled jungle man who falls in love with a woman? Well, yes, it is, but there is also something ever-so-faintly queer about this seemingly simple film. 

Let me explain. 

To begin with, it’s worth reiterating George is not himself queer, or at least not that the narrative shows us. For that matter, he’s not even queer-coded (still a common practice in the late ‘90s, alas). In fact, the film goes out of its way to make sure that we know just how straight George is, since the first thing he does after coming back into contact with other humans is fall in love with a wealthy heiress named Ursula (though, to be fair, Leslie Mann is just so damn charming that I would probably fall in love with her, too).

Instead, we must look elsewhere for the source of George’s queer appeal. 

Most notably, there’s simply the look of him. When people think of Fraser’s early career, this is the role that springs to mind. There is absolutely no question that George is a truly stunning male specimen. The camera loves to dwell with almost fetishistic desire on his sculpted body, showing us his bulging arms, his sculpted abs, and his well-carved calves. And then, of course, there’s that goofy smile of his, which seems to light up any scene in which he appears. 

It’s no secret that many–if not most–gay men are encouraged to see the muscled body as the ultimate object of desire, and I can’t help but wonder if the filmmakers had the lascivious gay audience at least partly in mind when they made this particular character so unbelievably delicious. Indeed, it’s probably not going too far as to suggest that, for many queer fledgeling, seeing Brendan Fraser in all of his loin-cloth-clad glory was key to their sexual awakening.

I know that it certainly was for me. 

I know that I, for one, will never forget the scene where Ursula, having invited her friend over, turns around to find George, having grown very confused about the nature of a hot shower, is standing in the middle of her living room stark naked. As Ursula frantically tries to shuffle him away, her friend, nodding appraisingly, remarks that “I can see why they made him king of the jungle.”

To my 13-year-old queer eye, there was something deliciously suggestive about this whole sequence, with the camera playing coy, giving us just enough bared, sculpted (and very wet) skin to whet our appetite to see more, without ever giving into the temptation. The most we get is a shot from between George’s legs (which, looking back on it, was incredibly lascivious for a Disney movie). I’m fairly certain that I very nearly wore out my VHS simply rewinding it so I could watch that particular moment over and over again, just letting my eye enjoy George’s physique and dwelling with delectation on that friend’s salivating over his unseen manhood.

However, it’s not just that he looks gorgeous. It’s also that there is a tenderness to George that radiates out of every scene in which he appears. It’s partly because he is, when it comes right down to it, a bit of a man-child, in the sense that he is a person who has been raised by apes in the middle of the jungle. However, there is also a rather naive innocence to him, something that comes out, for example, when he leads Ursula to abandon her uptight “civilized ways” and dance with him around a campfire, or when he connects with a horse while attending a fancy gala with Ursula. It’s hard not to love George, simply because he is just so pure and loving and lovely.

I’m sure I’m not the only little gay boy who yearned for just this type of man, one who was hot as hell but seemed so blissfully unaware of just how he was. Not for him the type of ridiculous and hysterical posturing of so many of the other men in the film, notably Ursula’s preening fiancee, Lyle van de Groot (though props to Thomas Haden Church for giving us such a delightfully ridiculous villain). Instead, he wears his sexiness with ease and grace. He is the poster child for non-toxic masculinity. It’s no wonder that he has become so key to many young queer men’s awakening, and it’s no wonder that Fraser has become a truly beloved Hollywood figure. 

Does George of the Jungle deserve a place in the queer film canon? Well, if Fraser’s potent queer appeal isn’t enough to earn it that distinction, there’s also the fact that Holland Taylor delivers one of her impeccably bitchy performances as Ursula’s mother, a woman who eats, drinks, and breathes patrician superiority. And, as if that isn’t enough, she also appears at a fancy party with her hair slicked back. She may not be playing gay in this particular role, but she’s doing everything but. 

All in all, I’m convinced that George of the Jungle is a key part of why Fraser retains his queer appeal. With The Whale, it seems that he’s cemented it.