In these times of post-modernist discourses of collective tolerance of homosexuality, and the related ethos and pathos of the socially engineered empathy for those unfortunate individuals who have, and will contract AIDS, I was shocked to find Harris' "autobiographical sketch" a sheer exploitation of his brother's misfortune. This film underscores the emerging "de-evolution" of the gay movement via the pop cultural media movement (MTV etc) and iconography. Harris explicitly chooses to not address this evolving "public issue" through discourse of cause and effect or even increase its "visible viability" in our changing social fabric; but rather, he chooses to use self promotion, self iconography and self pity (for "me" as the director all to often bellows to his uninterested audience) than allow the viewer to decide whether or not Harris' lackluster images or shoddy editing skills could or even would allow the film to work as a cohesive pseudo-documentary through the film's 90 minute agonizing duration. It is sad that the same decade that allowed us glimpses into the genius of: Walker, Bedipo and even Starinson, works that reduced the stereotypical "gay" footprint in homophobic heterosexual America. also yielded a "work" like Vintage. If Harris would allow his subversive ego "coefficient" to play second fiddle to the juxtaposition of his "siblings triptych," one would think the only redeeming objective from the outset of production would wade through the myriad of "white noise" ubiquitous throughout. I found myself very disappointed, not only because he didn't fulfil the "inherent responsibility" of someone in the "community" but also because of his lack of respect of the "community," that one would expect from an individual challenging this subject matter. Unfortunately he fails miserably, and the viewer is left with his byproduct of this endeavor, an "exoskeleton" documentary, with no meat inside.
