I was rooting for this movie, even as my every hope was smashed the whole way through: all the elements of a truly engaging, affecting, sophisticated picture are here, but they are botched beyond belief. Maybe somebody could give director David Scott a bigger budget and a staff and they could try it again from scratch.
The basic premise of the movie--requited but unacknowledged love--will ring true with a lot of queer folk: "You make love to me all the time. Why can't we just be boyfriends?" (That may have been one of the lines, actually, but the sound on this movie is so very dreadful I suspect I caught less than a third of the dialog.) There's no reason this film shouldn't resonate with anyone who's been in the position to rue their beloved's denial of acceptable, respectable, publicly avowed togetherness. And I suppose it does, with those more forgiving of its many distracting flaws. Am I unrealistic in expecting a certain basic level of competence from a movie?
The young actors are not without talent; or, at any rate, they are much better at what they do than the director, who frames extremely long static shots (such as that of Troy and Merrick discussing their issues in the living room) with no visual relief, no character movement, and no particular tension-building purpose. Not to mention the astonishing percentage of frames in the movie that feature Troy's obliquely downcast, unchanging stare-into-the-abyss! (Perhaps we should be thankful that Scott did not devote equal time to capturing the abyss staring back into Troy.) One is reminded of The Brown Bunny, which was built of 8 sentences, a blow job, and 80 minutes of Vincent Gallo alone and looking like he's just eaten a fistful of bear scat.
Our writer-director allows his protagonist the dignity of doing the only responsible thing by the end of the movie: growing up and getting over Merrick. He even permits a cloudy, ambiguous split between them, in which the lingering affection is just as obvious as the need for separation. All this could turn a film golden, win awards, and jerk tears like nobody's business--if only there were the tiniest shard of coherent film technique backing it up.
