But is it an accidental omission-or indicative of NBC and the filmmakers worriedly looking back over their shoulders at menacing homophobes-that the one person she never tightly embraces is Diane? Grethe hugs her kids, hugs her fellow soldiers, hugs just about everyone. At least there are no sexually transmitted diseases here. Diane then rests her chin on Grethe’s head. “I love you,” says Grethe, resting her head on Diane’s shoulder. At one point, Grethe (as everyone calls her) and Diane are sitting on a bed. Yet the story’s lethal kink is its utter lack of passion. Unfortunately, that control translates here to chilly distance and aloofness when Cammermeyer is in the vicinity of the woman she is said to adore: her companion (and presumably lover) Divelbess.Ī largely plodding pace doesn’t help. One of Close’s attributes is that she seems always in control. A tender moment from director Jeff Bleckner and his cast. And there’s an especially lovely scene here in which she buckles emotionally when disclosing her secret to her sons. Cammermeyer’s gradual “outing” of herself to herself is nicely executed. She’s strong when you’d expect her to be, vulnerable when you’d expect her to be. “You could commit murder and have a better chance of staying in,” a friendly legal officer says.Įven when the Army ejects her after a hearing, though, she doesn’t retreat, instead enlisting the gay-rights Lambda Legal Defense and Education Fund in a legal fight to return her to the military.Īlthough nearly a head shorter than the 6-foot Cammermeyer, Close is very persuasive in spots. The fateful security clearance revelation comes a year later, leading to a demand for Cammermeyer’s resignation, which she rejects. Then in 1988 she meets Diane Divelbess (Judy Davis), a flirty, free-spirited Southern California artist with whom she immediately connects in a way that forces her to confront a facet of herself that she’s never acknowledged-that she’s a lesbian. Respected by everyone, she’s a solid Army citizen, an outstanding nurse and a loving mother with a house and conventional life in the suburbs. She’s a patriot, a true believer, the kind of dedicated soldier you envision dying with her boots on. District Court judge ordered her reinstated, and the Army has appealed.Īlison Cross’ script introduces Cammermeyer (Close) as she’s voluntarily giving up active duty-after an honored 25-year career, which included a Vietnam tour that earned her a Bronze Star-for reserve status as chief of nurses for the Washington National Guard. In Cammermeyer’s case, her candid declaration of gayness during a security clearance interview cost her dearly, setting into motion a rigid military process that led to her temporary ouster from the Army. In any case, you end up feeling more positive about her than about those who put her story to film.Ĭammermeyer is the 52-year-old divorced mother of four whose 1992 discharge, after a sterling career as an Army nurse, brought into the sharpest focus yet the ghastly goofiness of the military’s policy toward gays. Either it doesn’t do justice to the real Cammermeyer’s personality, or this woman, despite her admirable qualities and bold resistance to military bias against her sexual orientation, is just too much of a drab, boring Girl Scout to hold your interest. Its controversy is a fleeting private kiss between two women that has heated the nation’s homophobic alarmists to a boil.īlunted by its own starchy military bearing, “Serving in Silence: The Margarethe Cammermeyer Story” is more stiff salute than the meat of absorbing drama.
Its executive producers include Barbra Streisand.
#SERVING IN SILENCE FULL#
Margarethe Cammermeyer’s war with the Army heaves with importance like a chest full of ribbons and spangly medals. On a landscape where dazzle is equated with Heather Locklear, NBC’s soldierly, spit-and-polish, eyes-forward account of Col.
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