Théo Lemouzy | Condition Humaine (Human Condition) / 2021

the impossible choice

by Douglas Messerli

 

Théo Lemouzy (screenwriter and director) Condition Humaine (Human Condition) / 2021 [22 minutes]

 

A young man, Marcio (Phelipe Fox), who we soon after discover is a Brazilian expatriate, is sitting on a bench alone at night when his pimp arrives, giving his next assignment and demanding that he take care of it. Before he leaves, Marcio pleads for an advance, he’s starving and hasn’t eaten in 2 days.

     This short film by French director Théo Lemouzy goes on to show us that Marcio is sleeping on benches and in the Cinematique, Fritz Lang’s Metropolis showing on the screen in an otherwise empty auditorium. So it is already established that this film will be a sad statement about the relationship of the classes, of the suffering of those disenfranchised by the society in which they live. Can the mediated peace between the son of Metropolis’ creator and the head of the workers be trusted, after all we have seen, at film’s end?

     An older man, Jean (Emmanuel Ménard) enters the theater near the end of the film, and wakes up the boy. But we see them soon after in broad daylight on the street talking. When asked, Marcio reports he was in college but he’s now looking for job, without success. Asked where he lives, Marcio doesn’t answer.

      Jean takes the boy to a café, where Marcio stuffs his face with the sweets he’s purchased. The boy apologizes, but the man simply encourages him to eat. And then, surprisingly, with what we almost suspect might be ulterior motives, if, since he son is no longer living at home, he could stay there if he wanted, interrupting his own offer to reassure him that it’s only a suggestion.

      Marcio’s only question is “does he have a bath?”

     And so a friendship is struck between the two, as Jean offers the young man a bed, his son’s clothing, and a bath, all of which Marcio appreciates with near wonderment, exploring the house after the other has gone to bed, observing the son’s portrait before entering the man’s bedroom and joining him in bed, evidently an unspoken payment for the elder’s humane offering.

     Whether they had sex or not, however, is uncertain, for in the morning Marcio apologizes for having behaved in such a manner, particularly after his host has just offered his house as a place of refuge anytime he may need it, and even hands him a role of francs, for food or water if nothing else.

     Marcio attempts to refuse it, but Jean insists. “I don’t want you to be in trouble. I’m worried about you.” He has become a kind of father.

       Evidently to make sure that the boy does not misunderstand his intentions, he asks whether he might come back next Sunday, but that he promise to take care of himself in the interim.

      In short, the relationship between the two is unclear. Is the boy being paid in advance for another night or is the man simply kind and caring, a bit lonely with a son in such a large apartment? It is clear that Marcio himself is unable to determine the nature of the kindnesses offered him as well.

       Marcio buys a new jacket with some of the money and visits the location provided him by his pimp. It is not what he expected. Besides the man he meets at the door, a young carefully cropped bearded man there are two young handsome men sitting in the room as the first commands he strip off his clothes, and pushes him to the floor. The evening consists obviously of an S&M-like group rape.     

     It is Sunday, the day the boy promised to visit, and Jean is preparing dinner. When Marcio does not show up, he texts him and finally attempts to call him with no answer.

     We see Marcio wandering the streets as if in a daze, startled by what has apparently happened to him, as Jean, having given up on the visit, dozes off to sleep on the couch.

      Finally, there is ring and a knock at the door, and when Jean stumbles over to answer, he finds Marcio there in tears. He hugs him and brings into the room, trying to comfort him, but every time he attempts to touch him, the boy pulls away, “Don’t touch me!” Jean attempts to find out what happened, and when Marcio continues in tears he suggests he call the police or at least take him to a hospital, both options which the boy violently rejects.

      Again Jean attempts to comfort him, to find out what happened. Marcio can only stutter out the words “I was doing things….tonight…I…..He….” Jean insists that this cannot continue and begs him to come live with him where he’ll be treated like a son. He’ll help get a job or even find a way to get him back into college if that’s what he wants.

      We see the boy a bit later standing at the sink, Jean sitting in the living room alone. Finally he stands and goes to check up on the boy. He cautiously turns the doorhandle to his room, looks over to the bed and moves forward.

       Marcio stands on a French boulevard, his hand out with the sign of a hitchhiker. A car pulls up and Marcio gets in the front seat.

       What has happened? Did perhaps Jean also attempt to have sex with him, sending Marcio back into the streets forever? Or has there been no one there in the bed, Marcio having already returned to the streets unable to bear the kindnesses offered him or perhaps presuming that the price for those fatherly ministrations were too much? Or is there something in Marco that actually prefers the danger, the reassurance that he seems throughout to seek in the mirror about his good looks?

       Lemouzy proffers no answers. But it is clear the choices for a young man in a new world without money and position will always be limited. That is the human condition. And sometimes the desire to destroy oneself is as aspect of the human condition as well. If you do not believe you are worth saving, it is difficult to believe that someone might wish to do precisely that. Even the choice to save oneself becomes impossible as well.

       Had I seen this film earlier, it might easily have been included in my 2021 essay titled “Working Boys” which focuses on Gracie Otto’s Broken Beat (2005), Sasha Ettinger Epstein’s Wall Boy (2009), Derek Efrain Villanuva’s Lost Angel (2009)—with which it has numerous resonances—Micah Stuart’s Johnny (2016), Anthony Schatteman’s Petit Ami (2017), and Aiman Hassani’s Khata (2019), along with my discussions of numerous other films about gay prostitution including Polish-born director Wiktor Grodecki’s trio concerning young boy prostitution in the Czech Republic, Andělé nejsou andělé (Not Angels but Angels) (1994) and Tělo bez duše (Body without Soul) (1996), both documentary works, and Mandragora (1997), the fictional conclusion. “Working Boys” appears in the volume devoted to the years 2000-2009.

           

Los Angeles, October 28, 2022

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (October 2022).

 

Naruebet Kuno | แปลรักฉันด้วยใจเธอ Side Story (Last Twilight in Phuket) / 2021

two boys in love say goodbye

by Douglas Messerli

 

Naron Cherdsoongnern and Naruebet Kuno (screenplay), Naruebet Kuno (director) แปลรักฉันด้วยใจเธอ Side Story (Last Twilight in Phuket) / 2021 [14 minutes]

 

In this Thai film, directed by Naruebet Kuno, it is Oh-Aew’s (Krit Amnuaydechkorn) last night in the Thailand city of Phuket where the two boys grew up. He is on his way to Bangkok and a new world. His best friend Teh (Putthipong Assaratanakul) is determined to take him on a tour of their favorite places throughout the city.

    The movie immediately establishes that these two boys are also lovers, who sleep together and have been friends for much of the lives.

     There is not much to the rest of the film, except a visually splendid short work that takes these two boys through their own splendor of the city they know so well, and which few Americans might ever even have heard of.

    Like so many Thai films, there is a true naturalness about their sexual relationship, no difficult angers or problems with their sexuality. In a sense this film becomes a beautiful tour guide through the city they both have experienced every day. If there is any sadness, it lies in the boys losing one another and the nostalgia of both of their lives which they experience throughout the day.

     They do find that the school they passed by every day has now become a house, that their favorite private beach is now closed off. At the shrine they visit, the fortune for Oh-Aew reads “Happy days with fade away.”

     When he begs Teh to kiss him in public, he proves to shy to do so.

     The general beach is still bustling and they sit on the sand and swim for a while. Finally, they do hug in public at the beach.

      Later, Oh-Aew is sad as the sun sets: “My last sunset in Phuket is about to disappear.”

     Teh simply tells him that he loves him, something he sadly admits he has never told in all these years, not once. And Oh-Aew tells Teh that he loves him too. Is the confession of their love too late?

     Finally, it’s the end of the day, Oh-Aew suggesting that since there is no sun to watch any more, perhaps they should gaze at the moon.

 

    And with a stolen kiss on the cheek, they ride off to say one last goodbye to their own childhoods and loves with a grand musical score by Hualampong riddim to send them on their way.

 

Los Angeles, October 2, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (October 2026).

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dustin Lance Black | O SMS (The Text) / 2015 [commercial adverstisement]

a loving lie

by Douglas Messerli

 

Dustin Lance Black (screenwriter and director) O SMS (The Text) / 2015 [8 minutes] [commercial advertisement]

 

This 2015 Portuguese language commercial advertising film concerns several boys who hang out together as a gangly group of teenagers. The group basically, like most teen boys spending a great deal of time of their cell phone, hang out together to brag and tease one another and play video games together.

     From the very first scene on we observe Rafael (Raphael Thomé) hiding his phone message and his friend Diego (Pedro Loques) arrives. We notice a great many hearts upon the page, but what to and whom is not clear.

    The troupe of the few friends, Rafael, Diego, and, in the background, Felipe, move on, mostly arguing the way teenagers tend to about how to treat women, etc. But Rafel also has a dog, whom Diego insists has to stay outside. Again, he quickly checks his cellphone for a message.

    Rafael is a bit frustrated becomes he keeps winning their video soccer game, even though he recognizes the Diego is actually good on the field.

      Other boys sit behind them on a couch busy with their phones. The conversation between Rafael and Diego, meanwhile, becomes somewhat more abusive, Diego commenting that perhaps his mother cannot even dress him in a proper shirt (he’s wearing a mere white T-shirt), and at their argumentative height: “Rafael, you gotta be careful. If you don’t shut up to breathe every now and then you might get brain damage.”

     In yet another scene, we see Rafael and Diego running around a track while Felipe and a quite beautiful woman swimmer sit in the stands watching.

     We see them from another time in the classroom, Rafael explaining: “When you challenge yourself, your body compensates, you know? I you take the easy way, you get weak.”

     Diego, frustrated turns away, Rafael continuing, “You know about compensation, Diego?’

     Diego responds: “It’s like when you put a sock in your Speedo, right?”

     A teacher irritated with their conversation queries Diego about speaking in class, Rafael answering for him. “No ma’am. He’s just loquacious. Is that the correct use of the word?”

     Meanwhile the beautiful female swimmer smiles at Diego, while Diego turns to his friend asking, “Do you ever shut up?”

     We even spot the two friends sharing a bed before they return to the day in the apartment with others, as they play their video games, again arguing in a friendly, challenging manner as usual.

      Once more, Diego he sees Felipe in the background sending a message. Suddenly, Rafael gets up to get some Cokes, forgetting his sacred cellphone.

    And suddenly, as we see the Cokes Rafael is about take back to the group he realizes he has left behind his entire history in the cellphone, which Diego quickly discovers. And suddenly he sees the most recent message of hearts shared between the two boys, Felipe and he, have just exchanged as the other boys attempt to grab the cellphone out of his hands to see for themselves what they might discover about their always chatty macho friend.

      Returning to the room, Cokes in hand, Rafael perceives what has happened, that his best friend has intruded upon his private space, the other boys desperate to discover what he has found. For perhaps the first time in the film, he is quiet. The other boys, including the now very nervous Felipe awaiting Diego’s words, realizing that his whole life and teenage reputation now lies in Diego’s words:

    “Rafael, you worry me.” Rafael stands still silent terrified of what might come next. So be honest. So why do you got so many pictures of that mutt. You two in love or what?”

      His lie is so beautiful that it brings tears to one’s eyes. It is the lie of a deepest friend, who refuses to reveal that Rafael is gay and in love with Felipe.

      It permits Rafael to turn back into his endless banter, we now know a cover for his feelings which he dare not reveal: “Well, I’d rather kiss that dog than your twin sister and neither one of them will stop following me.”

      “I don’t have a twin sister.”

      “Must be Your dog then. You look so similar I thought you were related.”

      Everyone laughs, and Rafael hands out his Cokes. Order is temporarily restored. At least, the order of young teenage boys, unable to share their personal “abnormal” desires.

      As the boys run back down the stairs to outside, Rafael momentary tells his friend Diego: “One more think about advantages, because you have a new one now….Friends like me, we know most beautiful girls in the world and we’re happy to introduce them to you.” Obviously the plural represents the newly discovered information as well: the we is he and the handsome, always silent Felipe.

     They now walk down the street, the beautiful swimmer girl and Diego, with Rafael and Felipe side by side in a gender matched foursome, happy presumably for the rest of their teenage days.

       I have to say, this is one of the most profound ads, including Coke which has had some wonderful gay ads in the past, that I have ever seen. It serves as a model of what is possible. It reads more like a short movie that an advertisement. The boys are all quite charming. Wish it was produced as well for US audiences, but obviously Coke felt we weren’t ready.

 

Los Angeles, September 2, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (September 2026).

Nathaniel Turner | Let Me Go / 2015

love and despair

by Douglas Messerli

 

Nathaniel Turner (screenwriter and director) Let Me Go / 2015 [8 minutes]

 

This drama about AIDS, located in the 1980s epidemic, is a moving and terrifying testimony to those difficult days.

    The film begins with some statements that characterize the new disease the suddenly begin appearing in the early 1980s:

 

     “Centers for Disease Control publicity announces that a contagious for of cancer is spreading within the homosexual community.

     “Scientists do not know the cause of the disease, but strong suspect it is a virus.

     “Hospitals, police, and fireman are issued masks to wear in treating the infectious homosexual patients.

     “Later that year, CDC names the virus ‘AIDS.’

     “Scientists believe that a vaccine will be produced within two years.”

     

   The film proper begins in a Santa Monica apartment in 1985 with Philip Daniels (Jimmy Dipola) entering the room with a glass of orange juice and a small slice of cake, wishing his lover, Christian Nerron (Matthew Olsen), a man with Kaposi sarcoma lesions showing on his face and a cane in hand, busy packing up a suitcase. He is determined that he wants his lover to leave him that very day.

 

    Philip wonders where he would go. Putting his arms around him, he asks “Wo would take care of you.” Christian pulls away, insisting it’s not going to make any difference. “There’s not going to be any cure.”

    “I’ve had four chemos, two experiments, and none of it has done a thing.”

    He argues that even his dropping out of school has been only to live with a corpse. Christian touches his lover’s face. “Go back to your family.”

     Philip responds, “You are my family. We gave up our families so we could be together.”

     They briefly embrace, but again the sick man pulls away, insisting Philip leave or that he himself will leave, as he takes the suitcase and tosses it into the other room.

    Falling to the floor, Christian insists: “This is all my fault. I did this. And now I’ve dragged you down with me. It was meant to be a fling. That’s all. But you, you can’t let me go.”

     Philip insists that it was all in the past.

   “I am the past,” Christian declares. Again, he pushes his lover away, this time moving to the bathroom and locking the door, Philip pleading with him to open up. Finally shouting out to him, as inside Christian runs a bath, picks up a hair dryer, plugs it in and clearly prepares to electrocute himself. The entire film turns mute except for the pounding musical score, Philip struggling with the door handle, Christian himself terrified of what he is about to do as the electric device moves nearer, seemingly of its own will. Philip, by this time on the floor in desperation, whispers: “I love you.”

      Christian finally opens up and walks out, actually fearing the suicide as much as the slower death he is experiencing. The men again hug, both now in tears, Christian whimpering “I’m so scared.”

    The film ends with the 2015 statistics: “78 million infected, 39 million died.” At the time of this review, 2026, the same statistics world-wide read: 92.2 million infected, 44.2 million people have died. Except for Tuberculosis, Smallpox in the early part of this century, and the Black Plague of the Middle Ages, AIDS has been one of the most the lethal diseases of all time. And we still have no known full cure, despite our government, cutting money world-wide for research and further protection in areas of the world where people are most infected.

    AIDS killed off almost an entire generation in the US of some of the most creative and talented young people of the 1980s and 1990s. Is it surprising that, after watching several dozens of AIDS movies, even a work as unevenly acted and melodramatic as this one, moves me to tears?

 

Los Angeles, October 2, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (October 2026).

Song Huang | 触碰 (Touch) / 2019

“looking” for love

by Douglas Messerli

 

Song Huang (screenwriter and director) 触碰 (Touch) / 2019 [13 minutes]

 

Having recently gone blind, Yue (Du Yusen), a young gay man, sits in the bathroom where he dials up presumably a Grindr subscriber, Gabriel, on his cellphone, asking if he might have a voice message and explaining to the man at the other end that he need not say anything as he masturbates to his silent presence—obviously a momentary relationship completely borne out of Yue’s imagination.

      The doctor claims there is little chance, for someone like Yue suffering from optic atrophy for full sight being restored. The father reports that for the last months they have gone through many different treatments with no results.

      Returning home, Yue once again connects up with Gabriel. It appears his telephone partner has figured out that Yue is calling from the bathroom given that he’s relying so much of voice messages. But Yue argues that no, he’s just too lazy to type.

      Gabriel’s response is a strange one, that his ex-boyfriend would say the same thing, but when Yue asks what his friend was like Gabriel refuses to discuss him. Yue’s response is at least clever: “I guess you like someone who is too lazy to type,” perhaps the first moment of real personality he has let slip through the wall of silent passivity he has created.

      Gabriel does respond, and Yue returns to their intense pants of shared masturbation. But in the middle, Gabriel wonders if they might have a video chat. Yue asks Gabriel not to stop since he’s close to coming.

       Afterwards, Yue sits in the bathtub bathing himself. His father calls him to remind him that they have an appointment with the doctor the next morning.

       Gabriel has left him to messages: “What is love to you?” “Is this love between us?”

       Yue responds that “Of course it is.”

       But Gabriel responds by sending him a new picture of himself that he took that very day, adding that he has not yet seen a picture of Yue. But what is love with a person you cannot see and with whom you communicate only by short voice-activated comments.

       The film ends with Yue deleting Gabriel’s comments and deactivating all communications with him, a true act of ghosting by a man who clearly now feels that he himself is a ghost.

        ZIZI has a sent a new message: “Hey handsome,” adding an emoji.

        Yue responds, “Hello. What are you looking for?”

        But the real question, obviously, is what he is looking for—with all that metaphor’s literal meanings attached—as he attempts to chart new territory, to find entirely different ways to seek out love in a world in which it is already difficult to maneuver.

        Director Song Huang has chosen to render most the scenes of this short film in nearly total darkness (I have significantly brightened the above filmclip), with only the light of the cellphone messages illuminating Yue’s face. One can totally comprehend that choice to force us to experience something of Yue’s world, of the darkness into which he has suddenly been plunged. But alas, it merely helps to exclude us from the character’s world, pulling Yue even further away from even the viewer’s sympathies or simple empathies. And the film, ultimately, turns itself into something much like a computer voice mail message, removing us almost entirely from Yue’s presence except for a few vague words and the kind of sexual pantings one might hear in telephone scatologia.

      

Los Angeles, October 18, 2023

Reprinted from World Cinema Review (October 2023).

 

Felipe Vara de Rey | La última noche (The Last Night) / 2014

someone more than a friend

by Douglas Messerli

 

Felipe Vara de Rey (screenwriter and director) La última noche (The Last Night) / 2014 [14 minutes]

 

Two close friends, Matt Hopkins, a married USA citizen, and Gonzalo Bouza, a Spaniard whose last night in the USA occasions this male-only celebration are on a ferry, apparently to Brooklyn, where most of the celebrations of this film take place. They ask others to take pictures of them together.

     Obviously, they have become close friends and over the next few hours they reveal that closeness. They enter a club where they enjoy some good food together, while the character played by Bouza talks about when he returns he will do nothing, nothing, but climb up into his favorite mountains. Hopkins’ wife Sarah (Sarah Burkhalter) calls him just to check in, and he describes their evening as enjoyable, also awaiting her hugs upon return.

    What time will they be finished with their event. “Gonzalo says 11:00.”

    She’s excited to give their mutual dear friend a hug.

    Matt offers his friend a small gift, which he proclaims is nothing, but nicely wrapped as it is, Gonzalo is touched, and even tears up. It appears to be a DVD titled “The American.” He hugs his friend in appreciation.

    They continue drinking, occasionally moving outdoors when the noise gets too intense just to talk.

    When the music changes in the club in which they sit, despite their statements of no dancing, they both do dance, eventually they too dancing together, albeit in a kind of gestural, removed separation, although at one moment again, they do hug.

     Now at a Brooklyn sub shop—with Gonzalo now wearing his tie on his head—which both men agree is the best ever, they share sandwiches, groaning over their pleasure. “What a night, man,” Gonzalo reacts. The friendship they feel for one another is clearly palpable.

  Sarah calls again, wondering about their whereabouts, and Matt provides her with their exact address.

     Matt turns to his friend to ask him “What are you going to be doing in five years.”

     Gonzalo turns the question back on his friend, who can only answer: “I’m here man, if I’m lucky.”

     But the question remains in the air, as Matt demands Gonzalo answer, since he asked him first.

     Gonzalo doesn’t know, feeling his country has been fucked up.

     “I simply don’t know if I see the future.”

     Matt, in response, puts his arm around him, which suddenly turns into a full mouth-to-mouth kiss.”

     I cannot comprehend why in all these films when a gay man kisses a straight, or, as in this case, a seemingly straight friend kisses his best friend, that the receiver of the kiss suddenly needs to pull violently away as if receiving some sharp hostile gesture which they cannot simply endure. A kiss is just a kiss, and it should be pleasant if surprising sometimes for anyone who receives it. Our culture has suddenly turned it into a test of sexual identification and intrusion.

     As usual, in such movies, Gonzalo pulls away shocked. For suddenly it is clear Matt has poured his heart out to him and made clear his desperate love of the man soon to leave his life. We suddenly realize that the happily married man is not who he appears to be.

     Both men apologize to one another, Matt, particularly, for his untoward behavior. A moment later Sarah, a friendly, obviously forceful woman, strolls up to hug both of them. She is there to bring her husband home obviously, but is a little confused when Gonzalo refuses her offer to see also him home, presumably in a nearby car.

      We suddenly recognize what Matt will be doing in 5 years, married in a relationship, working a job in which he is perhaps not completely satisfied, with now only memories of his true love from this night.

      Vara de Rey is too good of a director to make much more of it, but he has already revealed one of the most painful moments is this presumably straight man’s life. Same sex love is impossible in his chosen world. His life is frozen in space, whereas Gonzalo’s may be unsure, but is completely open to new possibilities, and given the Spain we know today, with its excellent economy and current leadership, he will have some excellent opportunities to decide what to do with his life. Matt is doomed, as it put it earlier, “I’m here, man.” He is frozen in time and space.

 

Los Angeles, October 1, 2026

Reprinted from My Queer Cinema blog (October 2026).