A prime example of the self-indulgent, self-important, opaquely "arty" kind of offering that is destroying gay filmmaking. On the commentary track, the director makes references to Bunuel and "Last Year at Marienbad", which is never a good sign, and the fragmentary, senseless movie he came up with fully lives up to his pretentiousness. It's full of flashbacks, flash-forwards, quick inserts of violent incidents that might or might not have happened, and repeated shots of male/male outdoor hosedowns, which I guess are supposed to be symbolic of SOMETHING. In between, the two male leads engage in interminable bedroom question-and-answer sessions that are like an idiot's idea of Socrates. (I was waiting for someone to ask, "What flavor of ice cream would you most like to be?", as it was the only unanswered question left, but nothing in the film was even up to that intellectual level). The dialogue is delivered in a nasal, affectless California drone, which is probably the right choice for the "hypnotic", surreal effect aimed for--in the few scenes where the actors try to deliver genuine emotion, they are hopelessly bad. Under all the fancy maneuvers, there seems to be a "statement" connecting coming out with violence and repression, which we've all heard a thousand times. And don't be fooled by the marketing--the very brief sex scenes provided are clunky, overlit, and slightly embarrassing. A soap commercial would be more erotic.
Review of Sun Kissed
