Tag: LGBT

Matthias and Maxime (Matthias et Maxime)

Posted on by victorfraga

The young Matthias (Gabriel D’Almeida Freitas) and Maxime (Xavier Dolan) are childhood friends living in a small Quebecois town. One day they are asked to share a kiss for a friend’s college project. It’s an “impressionist-expressionistic” short movie with a duration of just one minute. Yet this kiss – which us in the audience never see – has a major impact on their lives.

Both Matthias and Maxime are “perfectly” heterosexual on the surface. Matthias has a beautiful girlfriend. He frequents a strip joint. Both meet girls in the local bar and mingle in a testosterone-fuelled environment. Their friends are the boisterous straight men in their early twenties. They drink beer, listen to loud music and the car, play French scrabble and enjoy prancing around. The director is in reality 30 years of age, but his baby face enables him to play a much younger character.

Matthias has a corporate job. He befriends a foreign worker called McAfee (Harris Dickinson). McAfee is the impersonation of macho cliches, such as overconfidence, a vaguely disrespectful attitude towards women and a unease at females who are vaguely vocal and independent. It’s amusing to see the British actor in a role so different to the two characters that catapulted him to fame: the gay protagonist of both Beach Rats (Eliza Hittman, 2017) and Postcards from London (Steve McLean, 2018).

Gradually, questions are raised about Matthias’s and Maxime’s sexuality. There is no raging homophobia, but instead a certain inquisitiveness that Matt finds particularly disturbing. He thinks that his girlfriend suspects something. Are people subtly reprehending him for the little video, or is Matt himself suppressing his very own sexuality? His behaviour suggests that his does not know the answer.

Maxime has a dysfunctional relationship with his chain-smoking, manipulative and abusive mother, whom he supports financially. He has a huge birth mark on his face, which he’s very uncomfortable with (a mirror sequence reveals that he dreams of a spotless face). And he’s about to move to Australia in just a few days. The question as to whether the two childhood friends share a romantic connection will have to be addressed before Maxime leaves. The answer comes in the final third of the movie, and it’s worthwhile waiting for it.

The movie’s soundtrack is likely to please gay and straight men and women of all ages. Pop hits like the Pet Shop Boys’ You Were Always on My Mind and Britney Spears’s Work Bitch are played in crucial moments. Cinematographer Andre Turpin also delivers a decent job. A dance sequence blending time lapse with slow motion is particularly beautiful. An embrace filmed through the hole of a curtain while the rain falls outside is both engrossing and intriguing.

Xavier Dolan is already on his eighth feature as a director as 14th as an actor (that’s excluding short films and television work. Quite impressive for someone with just 30 years of age. Dolan is openly gay, and I would hazard a guess that the film contains many autobiographical elements. The director, however, refuses the LGBT label, stating during the press conference that “this film is not gay, it’s life”.

Dolan’s latest film, however, isn’t his best. It’s a little too long at two hours, and little happens in the first half. Plus many of the subplots (such as Maxime’s dysfunctional relationship with his mother, and a fight that Matt picks up during a party) neither come full circle nor seem entirely relevant to the story. Matthias and Maxime has colour and flare, and a few good moments, but overall it isn’t a profoundly moving film that will stay with you for a long time.

Matthias and Maxime showed in competition at the 72nd Cannes International Film, when this piece was originally written. It premiered in the UK in October, as part of the BFI London Film Festival. On Mubi is August/September.

Sunburn (Golpe de Sol)

Posted on by victorfraga

F Francisco (Nuno Pardal), Simão (Ricardo Barbosa), Vasco (Ricardo Pereira) and Joana (Oceana Basilio) are virtually cut off from the rest of the world in a large and extravagant villa somewhere in Portugal. It’s a sweltering summer, and they spend most of of their time in the swimming pool, strutting around in skimpy bathing suits, rehearsing selfies in front of the mirror or dancing to Brazilian songs. It sounds like most people’s idea of paradise. But it’s not.

Behind the apparent idyllic setting there’s a lot of tension. Sexual tension, emotional tension. Not all is pretty and clean. This is a place for “gin, sun, pool and flies”, says one of the friends, thereby highlighting the duality of the sumptuous summer abode. The distant sound of sirens and helicopters is pervasive throughout the film. Such luxury and isolation are strangely suffocating, and never liberating.

Most crucially, a mythical man called David is about to arrive any day. All four friends have been romantically connected and remain infatuated with the elusive male. They all long and fear his arrival in equal measures. They gradually break down in their anxiety. They are indeed fond of each other, but they are also competing amongst themselves. There’s only one David, and only one of them can have him. A lot like in Pier Paolo Pasolini’s Teorema (1968), except that the irresistible man is nowhere to be seen. In fact, the entire film narrative is constructed upon David’s impending arrival. You will be forced to stick around until the end of 82-minute feature in order to see his face and experience his power – or not.

Most of the dialogues in the film are about their past connections with David, all in both sordid and picante detail. There is a lot of voice-over conveying the most profound emotions that they are unable to vocalise to each other. Otherwise the four friends are mostly laconic, floating on a giant flamingo buoy (pictured below). All in old-fashioned nostalgic and melancholic Portuguese fashion. They make bleak and witty remarks: “Life is ugly, that’s why people have children” or “When you have a child give him Bergman at six and Tarkovsky at eight, and illusions are over”.

Ultimately, Sunburn is a mockery of failed modern love, and people tragically trapped in conservative dreams of marriage. It’s effective and riveting enough to keep you hooked until the end. The performances are convincing, too. The script, however, insistently delves into petit bourgeois afflictions, and some people might find it a little pedantic. I still enjoyed it, though.

The entire movie soundtrack is delivered by Johnny Hooker, a fast rising and very talented Brazilian LGBT musician. The lyrics (which are translated throughout the movie) are very pertinent: “I’m going to do some black magic in order to tie you to me”, or the very subtle: “do you still think of me when you fuck him?”

Sunburn showed at BFI Flare, when this piece was originally written. It’s out on BFI Player on Monday, April 22nd.

We The Animals

Posted on by victorfraga

Three mixed-race boys – Manny (Isaiah Kristian), Joel (Josiah Gabriel) and Jonah (Evan Rosado) – live with their parents (Raúl Castillo and Sheila Vand) somewhere in upstate New York. They affectionately call them “Ma” and “Paps”. The affection that they receive in exchange, however, is extremely volatile. Paps is the stereotypical über macho type who uses violence as his main currency. He’s abrupt and short-tempered. Ma is vulnerable. She allows Paps to manipulate and abuse her. The three children often come across as far more emotionally held-together than their parents.

Nine-year-old Jonah, the youngest of the three boys, is also the most sensitive person in the family. While Manny and Joel attempted to emulate their father’s grotesque sense of masculinity, Jonah prefers to go into hiding. Drawing is his venting outlet. He does it from under the bed, as if finding shelter from the stormy family life outside. He’s Ma’s favourite, and also her safe harbour. She demands: “promise me you’ll be nine forever”. The first signs of Jonah’s sexuality are beginning to show. He is infatuated with a slightly older blond friend, and his drawings contain very explicit homoerotic elements. The LGBT topic, however, is secondary.

We The Animals is a gentle yet harrowing tale about a premature coming-of-age in a fractured home, mainly seen from the perspective of the child. It’s very honest and brutal, without slipping into cliches. The action is interspersed by Jonah’s hand drawings fully animated. It’s as if Jonah’s angst and fantasies were given a lease of life. These drawings include both violence and sexual elements. The montage is exquisite, supported by an electrifying soundtrack. Jarring sound effects accentuate the violence. And Jonah’s battling with his hormones and emotions.

One of the most cathartic moments of the film takes place in the back of a pickup truck, where the boisterous three brothers enjoy each other’s companies. They jump, they roar and they hug each other. Despite their differences, there seems to be a strong connection between them.

Towards the end of the film, Jonah finds a very peculiar hiding place: a grave that his father inexplicably dug in their garden. This is where he allows his imagination to fly as high as possible. Breaking away from his broken family is often the only way to allow his creativity to flourish. His “flight of imagination” inside the mysterious grave is the most poetic and technically accomplished sequence of the film. We the Animals is poetical journey through childhood worth taking.

We the Animals shows at BFI Flare, taking place between March 21st and 31st. It is out in cinemas on Friday, June 14th. On VoD the following Monday. The film is based on the novel by the same name, written by Justin Torres.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post

Posted on by victorfraga

Hitting somewhere between the picaresque brilliance of Lady Bird (Greta Gerwig, 2018) and the corny idealism of Love, Simon (Greg Berlanti, 2018), Desiree Akhavan won the Grand Jury prize at Sundance for her second feature, which takes the personally revealing, post-mumble aspects of her first feature film Appropriate Behaviour (2015) and places them within a YA adaptation that retains her touch but is more accessible, simplistic, and perfect for its teenage target audience.

Chloe Grace Moretz plays Cameron Post, who in 1993 is caught with another girl on prom night and shipped off to a gay conversion camp in Montana. There, she finds herself stuck in a ritual of self-blame, repression and increasing hostility as she and the other teenage inmates attempt to quietly subvert the system and survive their miseducation.

Its most interesting aspect is the tactic used by the councillors, of controlling language used by the camp inmates as a suppression tool. S.S.A. or ‘Same Sex Attraction’ becomes the rather chaste term used by inhabitants about their experience, while a ‘tip of the iceberg’ chart designed to find blame for that S.S.A continually haunts them. John Gallagher Jr. is cast well as the moustached on-site reverend who brags about being saved from a gay bar by pastors from his church who noticed his car outside. His sister Lydia (Jennifer Ehle) is the chief therapist; she’s formidable and terrifying to watch.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post is consistently funny, but much of the humour is derived from the ignorance of the characters to their situation, and to the realities of queer identity. There’s something cheap about this – a smirking audience can laugh at the ridiculousness of the scenario, but this never translates into any stakes about Cameron’s well being. She’s a somewhat inert observer, with whom the audience can all too easily identify as above her awful situation. Sasha Lane and Forrest Goodluck play two of the friends Cameron makes, a one-legged girl from a commune and a Native American Christian. They are both established as fairly interesting Sundance-kooks but never develop far beyond a Janis/Damien from Mean Girls (Mark Waters, 2004) dynamic.

Moretz is an actor who, since her breakout roles as sassy children in Kick-Ass (Matthew Vaughn, 201) and 500 Days of Summer (Mark Webb, 2009) audiences seem to have turned against. She’s precocious; a Taylor Swift groupie, perhaps. Maybe this has led folks to associate her with trash, despite her roles in Olivier Assayas’ Clouds of Sils Maria (2014)and Louis CK’s vile I Love You Daddy (2017) which enabled her to capture the social climate, exploring how she is seen by people around her. And in Kimberley Peirce’s Carrie (2013) she at least used her star power to promote an unsung auteur. Here Moretz brings a puppy-ish energy that carries the film, breaking halfway out of her comfort zone by playing a more vulnerable character than we are used to. A note perfect scene where she calls home to find an utter lack of sympathy for her position is wrenching, an underplayed showcase of what she can do when stripped of her neurotic style.

The climactic event of the film – which really happens to a peripheral character – is edited to make a grandstanding speech collide visually with a shocking discovery which takes place hours later. Its an elliptical style Akhavan employs throughout the film for flashbacks, that never enhances these unfinished feeling scenes. It deadens the impact of that shocking moment, makes it seem only as consequential as the games or therapy sessions we see for much of Cameron Post’s run time.

It is this moment which sparks the final choice of the film, a transgression by the leads that inconclusively rounds out Cameron Post’s argument. Are these characters free to roam a new America, or inevitably trapped in a larger version of the camp’s microcosm? The film doesn’t quite know how to balance these ideas within its simplified framework, and so becomes a roaring push against a system without a direction or end goal. Akhavan’s film is fast, funny, and memorable, but not quite the call to arms that it hopes.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post is out in cinemas across the UK on Friday, September 7th. On BFI Player on Monday, June 6th (2022). Also available on other platforms.

The Wound

Posted on by Alasdair Bayman

L iving in a world filled with very little, Xolani (Nakhane Touré) works in a Queenstown (in Eastern South Africa) warehouse for a white boss. Introduced during such labour, his social life is left as an aside from the filmmakers. Yet, away from his professional commitment, every year “X” ventures outside of the city to help his former rural community with a traditional circumcision – Ulwaluko. Placed in charge of nurturing young teenagers into men, he must tend to their titular wound during a long secluded period in the barren wilderness.

Responsible for healing a young city kid, Kwanda (Niza Jay), X’s deepest secret – his homosexuality – is slowly identified by the boy. Orientating in an age-old practice, the unavoidable primary focus of The Wound’s efforts lay in the depiction of masculine pious values. Besides this, one cannot look past its acute representation of not just homosexuality, but the pitfalls of loving someone too much.

A thin veneer susceptible to crumbling under pressure, the masculinity of Xolani, eloquently portrayed by Touré, is a fragile one. Expressed in absent glances into the distance, his own Ulwaluko evidently has not created a strong macho character, as intended by this patriarchal society. When arriving at the rural camp, he is greeted by an old friend and fellow khaukatha Vija (Bongile Mantsai). Married and with three children, Vija, like Xolani, hides his true self from the world. Two alternative sides of the same coin, the rural space allow their desires for one another to come to fruition. However, in director John Tregove’s crafted realism, a distinct lack of bucolic imagery arises in this link between desire and nature. Similarly, their relationship is nothing more than a form of exercising lust for Vija, unknowingly to Xolani.

Instead of romanticising their sexual encounters, Paul Ozgur’s camera and lighting initially capture their intercourse against the backdrop of low key lighting, until an explicit scene towards the film’s end. Unobtrusively filming these sequence with a clear eye, both the cinematographer and director retain a desirable presence, whilst exhibiting the vulnerability of Touré’s character. Imbuing a central dynamic between love and hiding his true self from the world allows director John Tregove’s feature debut to express the fundamental conflicting nature that inevitable lays in all humans; regardless of class or gender. Furthered not just through one’s sex but likewise in sexuality speaks to societies’ expectations to define gender into stereotypes.

Managing Kwanda’s slow healing, the boy is ridiculed by the more rural ‘initiates’ for his adoption of wearing trainers with traditional African robes. Covered in white paint, their innocence is emblazoned upon their skin. Possessing similar imagery to Rungano Nyoni’s Bifa award-winning debut, I Am Not a Witch (2017), the entrapments of highly patriarchal societies interlinks the two, making for a perfect double feature. Absent of any sensei-apprentice qualities, the relationship held between Kwanda and Xolani is an arduous one for both parties. A stark contrast to the authoritative ways of Vija, X does not place virile pressure on the boy. Voyeuristically observing other people’s action, Kwanda comes to recognise himself in Xolani’s shy reclusive personality.

Accompanying the visuals, the diegetic sounds of Xhosa chanting fill John Tregove’s film with a spiritual ambience. Performed by the cast whilst at the moment, tribe chants as Somagwaza, Uyingew and Siph’Umentabeni create a distinct soundscape. Such traditional songs are consequentially juxtaposed against Kwanda’s one moment of engagement with the real world; listening to a techno based track in a car. A clash of cultures in the music evidently informs the filmmaker’s intentions to illustrate an abundant disparity in Xolani’s sexuality against the heteronormative milieu.

Unfolding in its final act, as the bandages of Kwanda’s wound similarly do, The Wound’s lasting impact is one of melancholy. A means of all this, the haunting use of the formerly mentioned native chant Siph’Umentabeni unnervingly lingers over the credits. Capturing the character’s in an impartial manner, John Tregove delivers an atmospheric piece, one that is sure to become a canonical film in world cinema’s archive.

The Wound is out in cinemas across the UK on Friday, April 27th, and then on VoD the following Monday, April 30th

Listen up: this is our BFI Flare podcast!

Posted on by Alasdair Bayman

Following the jump to the Podcast form, the team at DMovies have been waiting for the right moment to strike again! Thankfully, the BFI Flare: LGBT Film Festival 2018 proved too good an opportunity to pass up on covering for all our dirty new listeners! Seeing an array of films, from investigatory documentaries on America’s Southern LGBT community to a biopic on the Queer icon Oscar Wilde, BFI Flare’s programme had it all this year. In amongst the walls of the Southbank’s iconic building, Alasdair Bayman went on a quest to interview the very best filmmakers who attended the festival.

Following Scott Jones, the victim of a horrendous hate crime in Canada, Love, Scott (Laura Marie Wayne, 2018; pictured below) is a kaleidoscopic investigation of trauma and perseverance in a world filled with oppression. As you will hear in the podcast, both Scott and Laura were in fine form as they delved deeper in the essence of their friendship and film. Nonetheless, what is not revealed in the audio is the touching emotion apparent on the faces of the both the director and subject matter.

Secondly on the podcast, Mario’s (Marcel Gisler, 2018; pictured below) director and co-star, Aaron Altaras feature. The titular character is an U21 football player for Swiss side BSC Young Boys. Consequentially a result of Leon’s (Altaras) arrival at the club, the two strike a prolific on field relationship. Spiralling towards away from the field of play, both Mario and Leon must face the penalties ensued by being LGBT in a hyperactive masculine environment.

As Alasdair sat down with Aaron, awaiting the arrival of Marcel, our dirty writer was informed of the actor’s supporting of Arsenal. An aside anecdote, at the international premiere of the film at the BFI the previous night, Aaron was sequentially approached by a member of The Gay Gooners – an LGBT supporters group at the football club. Praising the film for its power, the member then proceeded to offer Aaron free tickets for their game against Stoke City. Underlining the welcoming environment instilled by all those working and participating in the festival, this small gesture shows that film is an international and free medium, touching all those participating.

To round off the podcast, Malcom Ingram, the director of Southern Pride, speaks upon his film’s post-Trump setting. Vocal and opinionated, Ingram evidently projects his political views into the film in an unobtrusive manner, resulting in the final Pride sequence being some poignant filmmaking.

Opening their doors to all cinephiles, BFI Flare: LGBT Film Festival 2018 highlights the cultural and socio-political change cinema can yield. In this regard, one would be amiss to not be encouraged for a brighter, fairer cinematic and political future. Don’t forget to subscribe to our MixCloud channel and keep your eyes peeled as we will be hitting iTunes soon! As always, watch this space for filthier content in the future!

Love, Scott

Posted on by Alasdair Bayman

Springing up idyllic appearing super 16mm footage of Canadian wilderness, Love, Scott (Laura Marie Wayne, 2018) does not start off as a regular documentary on an inspirational figure for the LGBT community. The victim of a horrible hate crime, committed against him in New Glasgow in 2013, Scott Jones, in the film’s brisk 76- minutes running time, confronts the ramifications of his attach head on.

Equipped with a feminine melancholic poetical voiceover- all from the perspective of Scott’s best friend- the slow tone induces one into a contemplative state of thinking. Recalling the process of cutting in the editing room, the footage is spliced together hastily. Intersected into three sections, the episodes lack any true clarity, effectively serving little purse other than for the narrator to describe. Photogenic, whilst all natural archive footage, the cinematography, merging with the voice over, sustains this lulling tone.

Swiftly cutting to its subject matter, Scott Jones, around his home in rural Nova Scotia, Canada, the free-flowing camera copiously lingers on his bearded face. As Scott finishes his opening discussion upon ‘the attack’, which occurred when returning home from Korea, the camera zooms out to reveal the fact he is wheelchair bound. Viewing it from both sides, the filmmakers could possibly be inserting a startling expose to shock the audience in its early stages. On the reverse side of the argument, it’s hard to ignore that the slow exposure of such a key element does not glamorise or idealise his recent disability. Occurring moments after referring to the hate crime committed against him, which is not legally recognized by the state, its a documentary with a tight focus on this heinous act committed upon Scott.

Absorbed in the natural beauty around him, Scott is constantly filmed immersed in such surroundings. Alongside his sister, they perform a Christian song of praise to oneself on a rock overlooking a tranquil river. The repetition of water imagery elicits the constant flow of life- regardless of good or bad periods. Emerging as a pivotal part of his life, his faith in choir propels him forward through the darkness of his disability. Interacting with the filmmaker in a form that feels as though it is just two friends talking, the personal stories told to the camera throughout its brief running time never feel stretched out or overly long. The latter impression is prominent in the final third act where Scott contemplates forgiving his attacker. Situating the camera far away during moments of him choral directing, the utilization of zoom adds a voyeuristic element to proceedings. In these flourishing moments of happiness for Scott, we see how the human spirit prevails over dark times.

Adding to the natural ability of Scott to directly talk to the camera, unbroken takes accompany the deeply personal tales. Working as the antithesis to the narrative archive footage that is asserted in a brisk manner, Wayne’s takes create verisimilitude. Occasional shooting out of focus shots varies the cinematic language of Love, Scott. Typical of independent filmmaking, it only truly lands a blow in one engaging nighttime drive filming. Aiding his continual presence in the film, surprisingly for a documentary subject, Scott has an alluring on-screen presence. Combined with his occasionally charming nature, Love, Scott is fortunate to have a focus who feels so natural around camera equipment.

The result of its accumulative emotive story, Laura Marie Wayne’s first full-length feature documentary certainly has its cinematic and affecting moments. Still, with a final act that feels out of place against the initial two acts, Love, Scott has enough impactful embellishments to produce a redeeming quality. What is undeniable, however, is that Scott Jones is a beacon of hope to us, LGBT or not, to keep the faith and endure the worst life has to offer.

Love, Scott is showing at BFI Flare: LGBT Film Festival 2018.

Hard Paint (Tinta Bruta)

Posted on by victorfraga

The largest country of Latin America has a vibrant queer culture and big cities like Porto Alegre (the Southernmost Brazilian state capital, where Hard Paint takes place) are open and diverse enough for gay men to live out their lives without concealing their sexuality. But the country is also riddled with violence, and loneliness is no stranger to young homosexuals.

Pedro (Shico Menegat) is young and good-looking. But he’s also extremely laconic and introverted, and his looks are careless: his attire is ordinary, his hair is long and dishevelled. He lives with his sister Luiza. He makes a living of performing on Cam4, a pornographic live sex application. He rubs glow paint over his body and dances under UV-A light (black light) for mostly anonymous and lascivious men. His username is the very descriptive NeonBoy. Pedro was kicked out of university and is awaiting trial after a violent episode of homophobic bullying in which he harmed the bully.

Then one day Luiza departs leaving Pedro on his own. He develops a romantic liaison with Leo, another “neon” performer, but it seems that Leo too could be about to leave the city. When you are young and lonely, the departure of a dear person feels a lot like a bereavement. Could Pedro once again be left on his own, in what’s probably the most difficult moment of his life (he could receive a jail term in his impeding trail)?

At first, you will find it difficult to connect with the insular and shy Pedro, who’s only able to “open up” in front of the cameras. Porto Alegre doesn’t come across as an inviting place, either. The concrete jungle surrounding the lower middle-class flat inhabited by Pedro is grey and soulless. The streets are impersonal. Neighbours on the windows are hardly visible, except for their shadows and profiles. The chat rooms are also deeply dehumanised. Pedro is treated as merchandise, and his clients are unwilling to meet him even for a friendly conversation. He has no one to turn to, it seems.

This is a film is full of small symbolic elements. Water is a central theme. There’s a leaking faucet, heavy rain and a powerful shower, and all of them seem to bring about change in his life. And there are doors with heavy locks and metal bar gates, emphasising the violence and the loneliness of the young gay man in Porto Alegre. Ironically, it’s one of these metal bar gates that saves Pedro during a very scary episode in the final third of the movie

The marketing collateral of Hard Paint may suggest this is a post-porn experiment, but it’s not. This is a film with emotional depth. A lot of emotional depth, even. By the end of the 118 minutes, Pedro’s candour and quiet charm will have won you over. Plus there are some credible and surprising twists. And Anohni’s song Drone Bomb Me in a very beautiful moment of liberation and redemption.

Hard Paint showed at the 68th Berlin International Film Festival in 2018, when this piece was originally written. It won the Teddy Award (LGBT) Prize. In cinemas across the UK on Friday, August 2nd (2019).

Sebastian

Posted on by victorfraga

Despite its title and LGBT topic, this Canadian film is neither a tribute nor a remake of Derek Jarman’s 1976 classic Sebastiane. In fact, this is where the similarities stop. Unlike the British movie, Sebastian is a rather commonplace gay romance, devoid of audacity and lyrical freedoms. It’s a film made for a very specialised audience: young gay males looking for uncompromising and lighthearted fun.

The films opens with a “so, is this it?”, suggesting that this is going to be about a short and intense love story with a sad ending. The film follows Alex (played by the director James Fanizza), a young gay man in Toronto who has an unfulfilling relationship with his partner Nelson (Guifré Bantjes-Rafols). He immediately becomes infatuated with Sebastian (Alex House), Nelson’s cousin visiting from Argentina. The cast also includes the drag queen Katya Zamolodchikova, known as Xenia in movie, who delivers a little stage performance – she’s best known for competing at RuPaul’s Drag Race.

This is a love story relatable and credible enough for any young gay man vaguely familiar with the gay scene and gay culture. There’s talk of Mariah Carey, Joni Mitchell, plenty of good-looking boys, night clubs, drawings of muscular men, a little bit of Camp, and a soundtrack with cheesy guitar riffs and indie music. But it also feels a little stale and cliched, and the drama is petty. The ending is mostly predictable.

The film does delve into some interesting topics, such as the troubled artist insecure about his skills and grappling with a troublesome family. But the script lacks the depth required, and there are some awkward bits (for example, Sebastian does not know the difference between the English pronouns “he” and “she”, but otherwise he has perfect command of Shakespeare’s language, and no Argentinean accent). In a nutshell, this is an LGBT pan-American romance with a message of “follow your heart, love prevails”. The difference from most other LGBT movies is that the enemy here isn’t homophobia, but your very own family allegiances.

Sebastian was launched worldwide on VoD on February 6th. You can watch it by clicking here.

Beach Rats

Posted on by victorfraga

It’s New York, it’s Summer and it’s sultry. The tarmac is sizzling, and the pavement scorching hot. And so are the libidos of young men. Frankie (Harris Dickinson) is no exception. The problem is that he is very confused about his sexuality. The extremely attractive young male is dating an equally stunning female called Simone (Madeline Weinstein, who’s not related to the now infamous Harvey), and he hangs out with young straight men of his age. She struggles to have sex with her, and instead fulfils his sexual needs through online gay chat rooms and stealthy sexual encounters with older men.

This sounds like an ordinary predicament, familiar to many gay men. There’s nothing unusual about a teenager grappling with his sexuality. What makes Beach Rats so special is director’s sensitive gaze, and the very realistic and relatable settings. The young female filmmaker Eliza Hittman, who’s only on her second feature, managed to penetrate (no pun intended) a male and testosterone-fueled territory to very convincing results. The film is neither exploitative nor sanitised. Sex is uncomfortable and awkward: both the failed attempts with Simone and the quick interactions with older men (in their places, or even in the woods at night). Frankie is a treat for the online pundits: he’s “scally” with a touch of sweetness and innocence.

Simple sounds and visual effects make the film particularly engaging. Fireworks become a symbol of a disjointed sexual eruption. The acting is also very effective. Dickinson, who is British, mastered a perfect Brooklyn accent. His very own sexuality became a matter of public interest. Is the teen living an ambiguous life just like in the film, or is his sexuality well resolved; and is he gay, straight or bisexual? Of course the answer is not relevant, and so I’m not going to reveal it. And I know you’re not going to look it up because you’re not the slightest bit curious, right? I thought so.

This very dirty American film also delves with a number of issues very pertinent to the 21st century. One of them is the toxic effect that technology can have on gay and bisexual men’s ability to develop relationships. Sex becomes mostly dehumanised and desensitised, feelings are banalised and even the interaction becomes dangerous (in the sense of physical integrity). Young males are particularly vulnerable to the notion that one can engage in gay sex without being gay.

The film also reveals that there’s still a stigma attached to homosexuality, and interestingly it’s the female (Simone) who disseminates the most old-fashioned prejudice: two women together is “sexy”, while two men together is simply “gay”, she explains with a grimace. There’s also a “gay” test that consists of comparing the length of your ring finger with your pointer finger. And it’s 100% accurate!

Beach Rats is out in cinemas across the UK on Friday, November 24th, and the following week on BFI Player (2017). On Mubi on Sunday, January 22nd (2023)

A Moment in the Reeds (Tämä Ketki Kaislikossa)

Posted on by victorfraga

This is a movie with its heart in the right place. It pictures the short-lived and yet intense affair between a young Finn (Jaane Puustinen) and the equally young and good-looking Syrian asylum seeker Tareq (Boodi Kabbani). Tareq is polite and educated: he used to be an architect in Syria. He’s an affront to the prejudiced view that refugees are unschooled and dangerous. He’s the type the immigrant that xenophobes shudder to think about: he’s far more intelligent than most bigots. A Moment in the Reeds is successful at conveying a message of tolerance and diversity, reminding us discrimination is plain wrong.

Unfortunately it fails in many other aspects. Firstly, it’s riddled with cliches. All of the action takes place in the idyllic Finnish countryside in the Summer. Leevi has moved back from Paris in order to help his estranged father renovate the family lake house so it can be sold. His folk has hired Tareq in order to help them out with the manly work. One night the father leaves the two men alone and… tah dah!!! You can work out the rest: naked swimming, steamy Finnish sauna and… LOADS OF BANGING!!! Banging nails on planks of wood, of course, an instrumental element of the renovation work.

They also get intimate in the reeds for a short moment, as the title of the film suggests. I wonder what naughty Theresa May would make of this. Well, I would hazard a guess she won’t be watching this movie. Anyway, back to the film. Not only the “twists” are extremely stereotypical and predictable, but also the script is very poor. Tariq’s voice is very sexy and deep, and he has a killer Colgate smile. As a result, most of the film feels like soft porn that never comes to fruition. The acting is quite iffy, and the photography isn’t particularly moving. Maybe the shaky camera is a reference to the wind moving the reeds. Just maybe.

The director tries to add an intellectual veneer by referring to the gay literature of Finnish poet Kaarlo Sarkia and French Arthur Rimbaud, but the whole thing just doesn’t gel together. The fact that the father begins to suspect the relationship between the boys upon finding out that Tariq is into arts only serves to perpetuate the stale cliche of “intellectual gays”.

A Moment in the Reeds is likely to please LGBT pundits looking for steamy homosexual fun, but it’s unlikely to engage a large number of human rights activists fighting for the refugee cause. The film showed at the 61st BFI London Film Festival 2017, when this piece was originally written. It’s out on VoD on Monday, October 15th (2018)