A future without homophobia? Gay men and personal responsibility in the Chilean telenovela Casa de Muñecos

Abstract

The inclusion of four gay characters in the telenovela Casa de Muñecos (2018-9) was an event that, until then, had not taken place in any other Chilean telenovela. Through a qualitative textual analysis of these figures, this article argues that the programme has strengthened a neoliberal discourse of personal responsibility that makes gay men not only accountable for their own well-being but also for the well-being of others, as they are singled out as responsible for making the ‘right’ decisions that will contribute to the process of articulating a non-homophobic future in the country.

Introduction

Since 1990, when Augusto Pinochet’s dictatorship ended, Chilean society has experimented slowly but steadily with social changes regarding the ways in which homosexuality is treated in the country. Over the last decades, several legislative advancements have occurred ¹ and popular support for some ‘gay rights’ has reached unmatched levels. ² All this, however, has taken place in a context where every day acts of homophobia, particularly in the public sphere, are still constantly experienced (Barrientos and Bozon, 2014; Hiner and Garrido, 2017).

National television has been a significant part of these social changes; particularly through the inclusion of a growing number of gay figures in different types of programmes. Among these, telenovelas, one of Latin America’s most significant forms of cultural production, have been fundamentally relevant: over the last decades, these programmes have become the main mechanism through which Chilean networks have made homosexuality visible (Amigo et al., 2014; Ramírez, 2020). Among the several examples of telenovelas in which gay men have appeared, Casa de Muñecos (2018-9) stands out because of its inclusion of four relatively central gay characters. This is something that, until then, had not taken place in any other Chilean telenovela. This programme offers then a first-time opportunity to analyse how several gay figures are constructed as part of the diegetic world of a single Chilean production.

In terms of its narrative, Casa de Muñecos tells the story of the Falco family after the matriarch, Nora, decides to leave her husband and put an end to 50 years of marriage. This decision leads the four Falco sisters to question their lives and its apparent happiness and stability. During the telenovela, Matías, the only son of the oldest sister, comes out as gay and introduces his boyfriend, Polo, to the family. Likewise, audiences were able to witness how José Luis, the husband of another Falco sister, starts acting on his long-standing feelings of same-gender attraction and develops a relationship with Mauro, a man he meets in a nightclub.

Importantly, this unprecedented presence of four gay characters was watched by a broad range of audiences, as Casa de Muñecos enjoyed the viewers’ preference over the 7 months it was on, achieving an average rating of 20.4 points (Meganoticias, 2019). This turned Casa de Muñecos into one of the most successful telenovelas broadcast by the private network Mega, a free-to-air national channel that in 2018-2019 was owned by the Chilean business group Bethia and the multinational entertainment conglomerate Warner Bros. Discovery. As part of a ratings-driven commercial television system, like the Chilean one (Ashley, 2019), Mega is funded by advertisement, thus offering audiences to advertisers for revenue.

Within this type of system, networks are continuously engaged in developing strategies to capture audiences’ attention. One of these strategies is the refashioning of already established genres, such as the introduction of night-time telenovelas that took place in Chile during the first decade of 2000 (Ashley, 2019). Within this time slot (after 10 p.m.), channels can present ‘adult content’: ‘socially adventurous’ topics could be and were now regularly included. One of these topics was homosexuality. The televisual presence of homosexuality then increased and diversified as a consequence of the popularity of this particular iteration of the genre (Ramírez, 2020). Casa de Muñecos was indeed a night-time telenovela, so it is part of this televisual tradition. Arguably, however, the inclusion of four gay characters is also a consequence of this telenovela being placed at a time of intense social debate regarding a number of LGTBQ+ rights, such as gender recognition and marriage equality.

Given this context of increased visibility in the midst of social change, it is relevant to analyse how male homosexuality is represented in this telenovela, as a representative of a televisual genre that brings ‘political events, news, and trends to the fore, as well as questions about ingrained traditions such as gender roles and sexuality’ (Joyce, 2013: 49). This paper offers a close reading of the four gay characters that appeared in Casa de Muñecos, exploring the characteristics that are made salient, the narrative developments that are made possible, and the types of relationships that are foregrounded.

Telenovelas and gay visibility

The analysis offered here draws from a critical/cultural studies approach that conceives issues of representation as fundamental for understanding the societies that engender them and how social groups are made intelligible and treated within these societies (Hall, 2013). Television programmes, conceived as powerful cultural products, are central in these discussions, as they are one of the most significant devices through which cultural values are articulated (Gray and Lotz, 2012), thus providing some of the tools that help us make sense of reality, ‘judge the world, others and ourselves, and […] imagine real and possible lives’ (Orgad, 2014: 32).

Out of all the meaning-making cultural products through which reality is narrated and made sense of, television has been particularly discussed in terms of its involvement with ‘the fashioning and refashioning of norms’ (Chambers, 2009: 89). It has been argued that partly as a consequence of its inherently economic imperatives that imply seeking broad audiences, network TV tends to reproduce dominant social values, thus actively participating in strengthening what is sanctioned as ‘mainstream’, ‘common sense’, or ‘normal’ (Buonanno, 2008; Gross, 2001).

This is particularly important in a ratings-driven commercial television system, like the Chilean one (Ashley, 2019), which implies that programmes are constructed around images that can be considered ‘acceptable’ and consequently watched and enjoyed by as many viewers as possible. This perspective does not negate the possibility for television to contribute to the disruption of norms, but it highlights that, through its constant production of meanings, TV is indeed a fundamental part of how a ‘common culture’ is constructed (Hall, 2013), including the expectations and presumptions regarding how social life is structured.

Within Latin America, a TV genre that has been particularly discussed in these terms are telenovelas. Even with the growing relevance of series, telenovelas still constitute the region’s most successful fictional genre in terms of broadcasting and international distribution (Aprea et al., 2020). Likewise, they have continued to produce high levels of viewership, attracting broad and diverse audiences (Joyce, 2022; Piñón, 2019). The genre, however, has also changed profusely, turning into what Valerio Fuenzalida (2007) calls a ‘macro-genre’: telenovelas are now designed to be broadcast at different times of the day; some of them aim specifically at different segments of the population; and, while maintaining a traditional formula based on the melodramatic negotiation of interpersonal relationships, several social issues (such as gender violence, migration, socioeconomic inequality) have been incorporated into their narratives.

The inclusion of these topics has contributed to their social salience and their role in public debates, as an essential part of the pleasure associated with watching a telenovela is discussing its narrative with friends, family and co-workers. (Orozco and Miller, 2016; Rodrigues Lima and Cavalcanti, 2020). Through their reception, interpretation, and the discussions they produce, telenovelas then ‘help viewers relate to social situations’ (Casas Pérez, 2005: 407), providing tools through which they can articulate their identities and negotiate their position within national societies (Joyce, 2013; Sifuentes, 2014).

Male homosexuality is one of the topics whose public visibility has increased as a consequence of its incorporation into telenovelas’ narratives. Even though their presence continues to be scarce, the number of gay characters in telenovelas produced in different countries of the region has indeed increased steadily over the last decades (Erlick, 2017). However, studies show that this has mostly happened in simplified and stereotyped ways that reproduce tropes associated with effeminate gay men whose own personal experiences and feelings are rarely addressed. Furthermore, these characters are represented through a humorous tone, serving as tools of comic relief (Joyce, 2013; La Pastina, 2002; Tate, 2011). In general, these characters echo ‘the conflation of effeminacy and male homosexuality’ (Tate, 2013: 539) that is profoundly embedded in the culture of several Latin American countries.

Other studies have described more recent changes to this pattern, identifying the presence of characters who, without showing a markedly masculine gender expression, are not necessarily presented as effeminate. These characters have been portrayed through more complex storylines that include romantic – although rarely sexual – involvements and the consequences of living in homophobic societies, among other previously ignored narratives (Marentes, 2017; Tate, 2014).

Similar patterns have been described for telenovelas produced in Chile, where the presence of a range of gay characters has been reported (Amigo et al., 2014; Ramírez, 2020). While effeminate, comic and not profoundly developed figures first appeared during the 1980s and then were pervasive during the 1990s, after the first years of the next decade they started sharing the televisual space with gay characters who have had more profound narrative developments, have been presented in serious or dramatic scenarios, and overall behave in gender conforming ways. The second type of characters has more regularly appeared on night-time telenovelas while the first type has continued to appear on day-time productions, consolidating different models of homosexuality for different time slots. Notwithstanding this broader range, the presence of gay characters on Chilean telenovelas is still scarce and the representation of the majority of the figures that are indeed present continues to be limited, with several aspects of the gay experience – such as sexuality or involvement in LGBTQ+ communities – being regularly ignored (Ramírez, 2020).

The range of representations of gay men that has been described in Latin American and specifically in Chilean telenovelas is coherent with what has been reported in other parts of the world. Studies covering American and European television have recounted that after decades of gay men being routinely represented as figures of fun, monsters to be feared or victims to be pitied (Doty and Gove, 1997; Fejes and Petrich, 1993; Raley and Lucas, 2006), from the 1990s Western television has progressively included a new figure, the ‘respectable’ gay man, as part of its repertoire of possible characterisations. Critics have described this figure as one that, while being openly gay, embodies a set of heteronormative expectations and behaviours (Branfman, 2019; Dhaenens, 2012; Vanlee, 2019) that are used for minimising ‘gay difference’, instead stressing ‘common characteristics of humanity, regardless of sexual orientation’ (Monaghan, 2021: 430). In this sense, ‘respectable’ gays are mostly represented within a frame centred on normative domesticity, highlighting its inherent values of ‘family, monogamy, romantic stability, childrearing, economic autonomy, and privatized consumption’ (Doran, 2013: 98). These values, furthermore, have been more regularly presented through characters who are white, affluent and behave in gender conforming ways (Avila-Saavedra, 2009).

Ron Becker (2009) has read some of the figures characterised in this way through the concept of the ‘post-closet’, describing them as characters who tend to lack any indication of struggle with their sexual identification and are thus out from the beginning of the programme. In general, these characters are liked by those around them and live within communities where their sexual identification is ‘accepted’ and even ‘celebrated’. Post-closet gays, in this sense, generally conform with the politics of homonormativity (Duggan, 2002), as they are not contesting heteronormative assumptions but reproducing them through the strengthening of a depoliticised gay culture that is rooted in normative domesticity. These are characters who speak to and reproduce a neoliberal rhetoric that turns sexuality into a mostly individual matter whose negotiation is purely the subject’s responsibility, as they are located in a context in which broader social movements are not necessary because homophobia does not seem to be ‘a big problem’ anymore (Grant and Nash, 2020; Richardson, 2005; Seidman and Meeks, 2011).

Chilean TV’s representations of homosexuality have not been reviewed using the post-closet as an analytical frame. This article engages with these discussions, partly exploring the ways in which these internationally identified patterns can be used for understanding a piece of cultural production that, because of the unprecedented inclusion of four relevant gay characters (within the context of Chilean telenovelas), presents itself as a highly appropriate device for analysing the ‘clash’ between different ‘types’ of homosexuality.

Methodology

This research follows a qualitative approach that understands the production of knowledge as an interpretative endeavour that is engaged in the production of meanings about a phenomenon. Specifically, a qualitative textual analysis has been conducted, which makes it possible to carry out a close reading of the televisual text that considers all its significant components (Brennen, 2012; McKee, 2003). Consequently, the analysis that is presented here has paid attention to elements such as plot construction, characters’ visual characterisations, dialogues, and the use of extradiegetic elements such as music, among others.

Within this framework, a text such as a television programme is conceptualised as a cultural artifact that contributes to the construction of our sense of social reality. It is then understood that texts provide evidence of how a certain culture makes sense of the world and makes intelligible the individuals and groups that inhabit such a world (Brennen, 2012; McKee, 2003; Mikos, 2014). Therefore, textual analyses are conducted using information that originates from the broader cultural context in which the text is placed, trying to understand how it fits into its normative constructions. A researcher conducting textual analysis therefore draws ‘on the relevant social, historical, political and/or economic context as well as their own knowledge of the text’s place within the broader culture in order to understand the most likely sense-making strategies’ (Brennen, 2012: 206), which is certainly not understood as the only possible interpretation.

This study involved an iterative engagement with the televisual text that implied watching all 128 episodes of Casa de Muñecos at least once, while paying particular attention to the scenes where any of the four gay characters appeared or were spoken about by other characters. These scenes were then analysed and annotated in an inductive manner; analytic codes were developed ‘along the way’ by identifying the repetition of certain patterns. This is a process that was imbued by my knowledge regarding the Chilean context, particularly in terms of LGBTQ+ identities and politics, and an ongoing engagement with research on media representations of gay men and homonormative politics.

Moral evaluations of the closet

Among the narratives about homosexuality that are regularly told on television, ‘coming out’ has been identified as a powerfully pervasive one: it has become a ‘a common trope, an easy, tacit reference’ (Barnhurst, 2007: 4) that has been repeatedly used, sometimes even as the only story about homosexuality that can be imagined (Allen, 1995). Casa de Muñecos is, unsurprisingly, no exception. The stories of the two characters who are members of the Falco family – the young university student Matías and the middle-aged lawyer José Luis – are marked by the closet. This is in line with what has been identified more broadly on Chilean telenovelas, where the storylines of masculine gay men – such as these two characters – are defined by the closet and the character’s struggle to ‘be accepted’ (Ramírez, 2020). Such a narrative first appeared on the national telenovela Machos (2003) through the dramatic storyline of Ariel, a middle-aged doctor who came back to Chile to reconnect with his family and fight for their acceptance.

The ways in which Matías and José Luis negotiate this position, however, are completely opposed and define their construction as representatives of two different ‘models’ of homosexuality. On the one hand, the narrative does not ruminate on Matías’s process of sexual self-discovery and/or self-acceptance. However, unlike the post-closet characters described by Ron Becker (2009) and Wendy Peters (2016), Matías is not out from the beginning of the programme: during the first episodes, his homosexuality is not named nor suggested. It is only revealed after he casually meets José Luis in a gay nightclub, which leads to Matías telling his uncle that he is gay and he does not have a problem with it, but he is waiting for the right moment to share this information with his parents. With this, Matías’s storyline starts echoing post-closet discourses of homosexuality, as it is conceived as an ‘unexceptional’ (McKee, 2000) part of someone’s subjectivity that cannot be easily spotted nor upsets the individual identifying as such.

In episode 22, however, things take a tragic turn, as Matías is victim of a homophobic bashing. This act of violence leads him to share ‘his truth’ with his parents, who are supportive, but shocked, asking each other ‘how did we not see this before?’ ³ as soon as they leave the hospital room where their son is recovering. Narratively, this moment of revelation is used as a pedagogical exercise (directed at Matias’s parents but arguably, through them, at the audience), as Matías complains about the ‘obligation’ to come out that gay people must live with, asking their parents: ‘mom, did you ever tell grandma that you like men? Dad, did you tell grandpa that you like women?’ With this, he is shining a light on the problematic logics of the closet and again engaging with discourses of ‘normality’ that are anchored to the rejection of stark differences between the life experiences of straight and gay people, thus minimising ‘gay difference’.

After this, Matías decides to call for a family reunion so he can tell everyone that he is gay. As mentioned, Matías is represented as a gender-conforming man; he dresses and behaves in a conventionally masculine way. His identification as gay is then received with surprise and resistance, mostly coming from the oldest members of the family. It takes some time and particularly Matías’s interventions showing that he is ‘still the same’ for the family to overcome the initial shock and move onto a position in which Matías is celebrated for his ‘honesty’ and ‘bravery’.

The fact that it takes some time for the reaction to become positive marks a clear departure from post-closet narratives of total acceptance, showing that Casa de Muñecos does indeed recognise the persistent presence in Chilean society of complicated feelings towards homosexuality. During this whole process, however, Matías is always shown as a firm and decided man who knows what ‘he is’ and is not scared to show and defend ‘his truth’. This is a notable departure from other gay characters in Chilean telenovelas, such as Sebastián in Cómplices (2006), whose coming out narratives were mostly framed as acceptance-seeking practices instead of statements of self-determination (Ramírez, 2020).

This ‘ideal’ way of facing one’s homosexuality and coming out of the closet is contrasted with the process José Luis is going through. During the first episodes, it is made clear that, even though he is married to a woman, he has feelings of same-sex attraction, which mostly disturb him and make him feel guilty. At one point, however, he cannot keep refusing these feelings and starts acting on them. Once this happens, the character gets distinctively framed as a ‘closeted’ gay man: he starts lying to everyone around him to keep his feelings and behaviours hidden. This is lived with a pervasive sense of anxiety that forces him to be always alert, carefully crafting each of his movements. This way of life, however, does not make him happy: he is always worried and afraid, incapable of fully enjoying his life.

Lying about one’s sexuality is then presented as a paradigmatic cause of unhappiness. Those who tell the truth are capable of living a happy life, while those who do not are condemned to suffer. Similar to what has been described in post-closet narratives (Becker, 2009; Peters, 2016), the decision to come out is here presented as a purely personal one where contextual factors are only slightly addressed. It is mostly framed as an individual act of honesty that must be carried out if one wants to have a life that holds the potential for happiness, even if sometimes that includes fighting against the always latent homophobia. Staying in the closet is evaluated in moral terms, as it is equated with being a coward, not being able to stand for yourself and fight those who oppose you.

A lexical marker of this differentiation is found in the use of the word ‘maricón’, which in Chile – as in many other Spanish-speaking countries – is used as a derogatory term to refer to gay men, but also to refer to anyone who is not ‘brave’ or upfront with others. This word is then repeatedly used when talking to or about José Luis, suffusing his homosexuality – as opposed to the other gay characters’ sexuality – with abject markers of moral corruption. In episode 110, for instance, José Luis’s wife Isabella is talking to her sister Mónica, who says: ‘you should divorce José Luis, not only because he’s a homosexual, but also because he’s a liar. José Luis is a maricón.’

Coming out is framed as an obligation, an act of personal responsibility that is a sign of moral virtue and integrity (Seidman and Meeks, 2011); gay men must be ‘brave’ and speak out, which notably echoes traditional discourses about masculinity that imbue ‘being a man’ with values such as bravery, strength and worth, as has been described specifically for the Chilean case by Carl Fischer (2016). This is made particularly evident once José Luis’s family finds out about his relationship with the young and masculine personal trainer/model Mauro. In episode 118, for instance, his sister-in-law Mónica asks him: ‘why aren’t you like Matías? Why don’t you act like a man and assume your sexual orientation once and for all?’, again not only echoing broader social discourses that pair masculinity with bravery but also establishing that the ‘appropriate’ gay life is the one shaped by the values of that traditional masculinity. Relatedly, in episode 93, while talking to his father about his uncle José Luis, Matías says: ‘why don’t people just tell the truth and allow themselves to be happy?’ Through these and other interventions, Casa de Muñecos participates in the construction of an ‘ideal’ gay subject, which is the one who moves ‘from shame and silence to pride and visibility’ (McNicholas, 2020: 127), consolidating this trajectory as an individual act of moral responsibility that is, furthermore, the only possible path to a happy life. In this way, happiness is associated with certain personal decisions: if you are brave and honest and come out of the closet, even if this is not an easy path, ‘then happiness is what follows’ (Ahmed, 2010: 29).

Importantly, by not being honest, a gay man is not only denying happiness to himself, but also to those around him. Crucially, in Casa de Muñecos, José Luis’s lies affect the other gay men in the story, those who are proudly out of the closet. Different to other Chilean telenovelas with gay characters, such as Separados (2012-3) or Pituca sin Lucas (2014-5), where homophobia is ignored or just slightly addressed (Ramírez, 2020), in Casa de Muñecos it is constantly present. It is, however, not explicitly there, but always ready to become salient once it is ‘activated’ by certain conditions which are routinely framed as José Luis’s responsibility. Unlike the post-closet narratives described by Wendy Peters (2016), where homophobic acts are directly performed by non-straight (mostly closeted) individuals in a social context in which homophobia is mostly unidentifiable, José Luis’s role is less direct: he is not the one doing the homophobic acts, however, his actions do facilitate the materialisation of a homophobia that is already there, recognised as an undeniable part of the Chilean society.

An example of this is the following narrative: after the homophobic bashing, Matías decides to sue the attackers using the already mentioned Antidiscrimination Law. The mention of this piece of legislation is important, as it was approved in 2012 only after Daniel Zamudio, a young gay man, died as a consequence of a homophobic attack. Here then, the telenovela is appealing to a powerful collective memory associated with an event that, through a potentially shared suffering, opened possibilities of self-defence for all queer subjects in Chile. This engagement with a community-making memory is, however, disrupted by José Luis, who is acting as his nephew’s attorney. After the attackers’ lawyers follow him, discover his romance with Mauro, and thus blackmail him, he surreptitiously convinces Matías to drop the charges. Justice in a case of violent homophobia is then prevented from happening as a consequence of a gay man’s refusal to come out of the closet: even if he is not the one directly performing the homophobic acts, his decisions make impossible the punishment of the discriminatory actions performed by others.

Similarly, other storylines follow the same pattern of making the ‘closeted’ gay man responsible for the consequences of homophobia upon the lives of out gay men. For instance, to cover his lies, José Luis gets Mauro fired from an advertising campaign that was being organised by the Falco family’s agency, arguing that Mauro is stalking him. Through this process, all the members of the family who work at the agency talk to and about Mauro using long-standing homophobic tropes that frame him as a sexual predator whose lust is directed at straight men, revealing the prevalence of homophobia even among people who act as ‘gay-friendly’ in other situations. However, once it is revealed that all this was part of José Luis’s lies, they blame him for their homophobic actions. In episode 109, for instance, Mónica tells him: ‘you had an affair with him and then you let us mistreat him, you let us humiliate him, just to defend yourself’; and crucially, in episode 124, she tells him: ‘don’t blame us! You’re the only homophobic person here!’.

Through all this, the homophobia that is directed at José Luis – which is, arguably, what prevents him from coming out – gets side-lined. The role of ‘victim’ is one that can only be inhabited by those gay men who are open about who ‘they are’. Conversely, those who are not honest cannot be victims; instead, homophobia happens, at least in part, because of their actions and decisions. With this, Casa de Muñecos is indeed recognising the prevalence of homophobia within the Chilean society; however, it also makes fighting against it the responsibility of gay people. They are the ones who, by coming out, being honest, and making the right decisions, are in charge of keeping homophobia out of their own and others’ lives. Casa de Muñecos is then allegorising a period of change for Chilean society, as homophobia is shown as something that is being left behind, in a process that demands gay people’s ‘bravery’ and capacity to use the possibilities that are now available for them, as will be discussed below.

Leaving homophobia behind: ‘Letting go’ to access the future

Casa de Muñecos’s narrative routinely places on José Luis, as an individual, the responsibility regarding his ‘incapacity’ to come out of the closet. Even though at certain points he identifies his family’s homophobia as the cause of his unwillingness to publicly recognise his feelings, the ways in which they react to Matías’s homosexuality – at least after some time – render this justification hardly sustainable. Contrary to José Luis’s explanation, the telenovela puts forward a reality in which ‘casually homophobic’ people can indeed start ‘accepting’ homosexuality, in a transition that 1) must be guided by gay people themselves, as they are responsible for ‘educating’ heterosexuals, and 2) is what is now socially expected, as homophobia is in the process of being discarded as part of the ‘common sense’ structuring contemporary Chilean society.

In this sense, unlike international narratives in which gay characters live in worlds where ‘homophobia is old news’ (Peters, 2016: 500), in Casa de Muñecos homophobia is indeed always present as a structure shaping the lives of gay people. However, it is shown that they now have a set of tools and opportunities that can be used in order to advance the social process of leaving homophobia behind. By making a distinction between those who use these opportunities – and are thus positively implicated in a process of social change – and those who do not, Casa de Muñecos establishes a moral distinction marked by the conviction that the fight against homophobia is mainly gay people’s responsibility.

One of these tools is the Antidiscrimination Law, which is presented as a device that gay people can and should use when facing homophobic discrimination. In a narrative that extended over several episodes, this tool is used in conjunction with the opportunities provided by the influences coming from the international arena, specifically from Europe, territory thus framed as supposedly ‘advanced’ and ‘gay friendly’. After being fired and mistreated as a consequence of being falsely accused of stalking José Luis, Mauro sues the Falco family’s advertising agency. Because of this suit, the agency gets disqualified from an international competition held in Italy, as their involvement in a homophobic situation is considered unacceptable within contemporary international ethics of ‘tolerance’. Of course, the family is quite shocked by this situation, making visible how Mauro’s unwillingness to ignore homophobic discrimination is forcing them to accommodate their actions to the progressively built new status of homophobia as something unacceptable.

Through these types of interventions, Casa de Muñecos frames homophobia as something that is being left behind, if not voluntarily at least forcibly as a consequence of the legal and international tools that are now at gay people’s disposal. This, however, also demands from them a new set of behaviours. They do not only have to come out of the closet, as was previously discussed; they also have to come into a set of practices and behaviours through which they can show others that their lives are also shaped by the contours of normative domesticity, thus echoing the international ‘respectable gay man’ narrative mentioned above.

It is, then, gay men’s task to confront discrimination by living their ‘good’ lives openly. However, this process is not an easy one as homophobia still lingers, although affecting characters differently depending on their connections with its historic roots. This time-related interplay is highlighted in several scenes in which generational differences are discussed. José Luis, for instance, regularly mentions his upbringing and how, ‘back then’, homosexuality was not even an option. Similarly, for example, when comparing his situation to his uncle’s, Matías says: ‘I’m so happy I was born in this day and age. Coming out is still hard, but it’s not impossible now.’ It is undeniable that over the last decades Chilean society has gone through profound changes regarding the ways in which homosexuality is socially perceived. However, by focusing on ‘epochal differences’ that underscore a narrative of ‘progress’ and by placing the weight of the closet on the ‘choices’ made by gay men themselves, Casa de Muñecos fails to call attention to the social structures that continue to delineate such ‘choices.’

Consequently, rather than presenting José Luis’s generational trauma as an understandable feature, it is turned into an emotional disposition that must be overcome: he must ‘let go’ of the past and engage with a present in which new opportunities leading to a ‘happy life’ have become available. Through the use of these opportunities, which show homosexuality’s ‘normality,’ gay men can contribute to the ongoing process of leaving homophobia behind. This is a narrative that has been suggested in other Chilean telenovelas, for instance in Machos (2003), where homophobia is ultimately framed as the result of gay people’s ‘senseless fear’ (Becker, 2009: 128). However, the focus placed on the definition of a social context in which a gay identification is supported and even potentially celebrated is new and reinforces the weight placed on gay men’s personal choices.

José Luis, however, is incapable of ‘getting over’ his own history, accessing the homonormative possibilities of a happy life, and thus contribute to the articulation of a non-homophobic future. This is recurrently constructed through the juxtaposition of scenes showing how José Luis engages in what is framed as ‘abject’ behaviours and Matías – along with his partner, masculine young student Polo – being welcomed into a ‘hopeful futurity […] imagined through inclusion in […] symbolic markers of money, marriage and family’ (McNicholas, 2020: 141). Notably, for instance, in episode 94 two sets of relevant scenes are juxtaposed; one depicts José Luis in a gay sauna, about to have sex with an unknown man, and the other shows Matías and Polo being ‘accepted’ and welcomed into the family by Matías’s ‘previously homophobic’ grandfather. Through these contrasts, the telenovela is implicated in the construction of moral differences between those who live homosexuality ‘appropriately’ and are thus invited into a ‘happy’ future and those who do not.

Recurrently, in Casa de Muñecos, sexuality is used as a marker of José Luis’s conflicting relationship with his sexual orientation. Historically, sex between men has been scarcely shown on network television, both internationally – including other Latin American countries – (Becker, 2009; Tate, 2013) and nationally (Ramírez, 2020). Casa de Muñecos, then, departs from this pattern. However, in order to make gay sexuality representable, it is marked as deviant: it is only represented within relationships marked by secrecy – José Luis and Mauro – or promiscuity – José Luis and strangers – while the one that is delineated by a domestic lexicon of love and acceptance – Matías and Polo – is chastely lived.

It is then not surprising that what is depicted as a consequence of reckless sexuality is what most strongly complicates José Luis’s access to the promised non-homophobic future. In another example of starkly juxtaposed narratives, in episode 114 one set of scenes shows José Luis nervously waiting for the results of his HIV test and then learning that he is indeed living with the virus, and another shows Matías telling his parents that he and Polo will form a civil partnership. This announcement is paired with an assimilationist discourse of sameness, again pedagogical in nature, in which Matías states: ‘for us, gay people, marriage is almost a political choice. It is a way of telling society that we’re equals, we have the same rights, we can live together and form a life together. Just like any other couple.’ In the meantime, José Luis is going through a spiral of desperation, stating that he ‘has AIDS’ and ‘is going to die.’ Through these interventions, the telenovela is showing the supposed effects of not being able to let go of the past and accepting one’s sexuality: having ‘dangerous’ sex whose consequences impedes a smooth access to a ‘futurity defined by a homonormative assimilation’ (McNicholas, 2020: 151) that cements the social presence of gay people as ‘good citizens’ and thus contributes to the undoing of homophobia.

In terms of its construction, the end of a telenovela is not only important at a narrative level, but also at an ideological one, as it is when audiences can ‘look back upon the completed text and impose upon it some kind of moral […] order’ (Allen, 2004: 254). Consequently, the narrative closure of the stories of Matías, Polo, and Mauro – particularly the first two – is marked by the satisfaction of having made the right decisions and thus enjoying the possibilities that gay life offers in a society that is decidedly moving towards ‘acceptance’. The end of José Luis’s narrative, on the other hand, is markedly different, although significantly less punishing than the rest of his story. After rescuing his mother-in-law from a life-threatening situation, in an event that evidences that he is still a ‘good person’, he is forgiven by his now ex-wife, who says to him that she does not hate him and is happy he is looking better. Crucially, this scene, which is the last one in which audiences see José Luis, takes place on Christmas Eve and ends with José Luis looking nostalgically at a picture of him with Isabella, after telling her that he will spend Christmas alone. The placement of this scene on this particular day seals José Luis’s position outside of the bounds of normative discourses of family life and the possibilities it contains. With this, the end of the telenovela does not necessarily delineate a wretched future for José Luis. It is, however, not a future marked by a happy life, either. The effects of the decisions he has made were only slightly softened by his last proof of heroism, which has prevented a future marked by the hate of the people he loves, but not one of solitude and nostalgic sadness.

Conclusion

Through the unprecedented inclusion of four relevant gay characters, Casa de Muñecos has reproduced some already established patterns in terms of the representation of gay men on Chilean telenovelas; however, at the same time, it has also given televisual presence to perspectives that had not been highlighted before on Chilean network TV. In this sense, José Luis, Matías, Mauro and Polo are all extensions of narrative characteristics that have already become possible on Chilean telenovelas, particularly night-time telenovelas: they are masculine men whose stories are told in a serious or dramatic tone, allowing the construction of a more developed diegetic arc in which the negotiations associated with ‘the closet’ take centre stage. On the other hand, the ways in which some of them negotiate this position provide a new perspective, as coming out is no longer mostly framed as an acceptance-seeking exercise, but as moments of strength and self-determination. Similarly, another stark differentiation with other national telenovelas is the representation of homophobia and its consequences, which is indeed assessed as an important part of the lives of these gay men.

Notwithstanding these progressive changes, however, this study has suggested that Casa de Muñecos has participated in the solidification of firm narratives regarding the possibilities for gay lives in contemporary Chile. Crucially, the programme has strengthened a neoliberal discourse of personal responsibility that makes gay men not only accountable for their own well-being – through the obligation of coming out of the closet, which is the only path to a ‘happy’ life – but also for the well-being of others, as they are singled out as responsible for making the ‘right’ decisions that will contribute to the ongoing process of disrupting homophobia in the country.

In this sense, unlike international post-closet narratives (Becker, 2009; Bergman, 2004; Peters, 2016) in which homophobia is depicted as an individualised issue, mostly passé and no longer a structural part of social relations, in Casa de Muñecos homophobia is present as an always latent source of conflict which is, nevertheless, slowly being left behind. In this context, it is gay men’s task to use the new tools and opportunities that are available for them in order to contribute to the construction of a non-homophobic future.

Casa de Muñecos entered the televisual environment at a time of intense public debate and notable social change regarding the ways in which homosexuality is treated in Chile. It cannot be said that television is single-handedly producing the social debate that substantiate these changing conditions. TV is part of a broader social order in which certain things get foreclosed and others start becoming possible. Televisual images’ ubiquity in the everyday life of diversely constituted audiences, however, consolidates their preferential role in making these possibilities salient and significant and thus contributing to their social strengthening. Because of the popularity of telenovelas, they are a central part of this movement. This reinforces the idea that the presence of diverse images proposing different ways of articulating desirable futures is a relevant socio-political need.