Pink Narcissus

This production fits into the category of art more than it does video, film or cinema. It's not something you'd see at the theater at the mall; there's no dialogue, and there's no "story," or at least not one that fits neatly into our cinematic paradigm. Rather, this is an hour-or-so-long kaleidoscopic arrangement of sounds and colors and forms in the background and teasingly partial revelations of the male body in the foreground. The "art," in imitating life, leads us to Bobby Kendall narcissistically looking in a mirror, being a matador, flying and fantasizing. Actually, you could link Pink Narcissus to one category in our cinematic paradigm: Suspense. Viewers who like the male body will be in suspense for an hour, dying to see just another inch of Bobby Kendall's body.