The epitome of what was an Allan Carr production/endeavor, no matter the media or year it was witnessed by the public, was the cross-section between inherent extravagance and a longing for a mythic past of Hollywood's invention.
A lone man pushes a wheelchair through the vast, unforgiving expanse of 20 uncharted miles of Death Valley back to civilization. Far from the psychedelic runoff of an uncontained Lynchian experiment, director Dominic Gill is documenting the final symbolic journey of motocross rider Aaron Baker, who in 1999 broke his neck and severely damaged his spinal cord, resulting in paralysis and significant mobility reduction with little hope of recovering.
There are few things more dependable in cinema than Bruce LaBruce's transgressive sexual politics and his aesthetic fixation with that enticing grey area between independent cinema and hardcore gay pornography.
Perhaps, with its priorities reorganized, the effort Kingsley puts into the role could not have been so thoroughly wasted; but as it stands, it seems An Ordinary Man is the lesser of the four films he appeared in last year.
From After Louie's conceptual standpoint there exists the foundation for a highly intriguing character study about this human artifact from the AIDS crisis coming to terms with the his generational succession by his community.
Not since the days of David Cronenberg has the classical approximation of love as being the act of “giving a part of one's self to another” ever been more grotesquely literal than in Xander's Robin's destitute romance Are We Not Cats.
Existing on a precipice between its police-procedural grittiness and the fantastical digressions of its local mythology, Interchange is an anomaly with a failure to delineate these worlds from one another or to give exposition to their coexistence, making its investigative trip to mystic territory obtuse at best.