Like Me: Gal Amitai and Yoav Keren – Breaking Glass Pictures
Keeping pace with its free-spirited gay hero — a Tel Aviv high school senior named Tom — the indie drama Like Me (★★☆☆☆) makes broad, swift swings between emotional highs and lows.
In short order, Tom, portrayed by newcomer Yoav Keren, bounces from a threesome with a handsome gay couple, to being informed by his widower dad Gideon (Danny Geva) that, based on some tell-tale queerness Gideon found on the kid’s phone, he’s giving Tom two weeks to get out of the house.
Writer-director Eyal Kantor’s feature debut treads credible ground depicting Tom’s confusion as he processes being rejected by his emotionally distant dad. He still parties when he can with straight bestie Gilad (Mendi Barsheshet) and Gilad’s new Instagram-influencer girlfriend Noa (Roni Adler), but the hurt and anger seething beneath the smiles can surface when he least expects.
During a photo shoot, Rami (Gal Amitai), a smitten photographer twice Tom’s age, directs model Tom to pour that pain out, resulting in the most persuasively raw moments of Keren’s performance. Elsewhere, the actor appears in need of stronger direction to convey Tom’s complex, sometimes contradictory actions and urges.
Especially when those actions seem contradictory to common sense and reality, like when Tom intentionally trashes his bike, to create an excuse for running late on his Pizza Hut deliveries.
Sure, to embellish the fib, he lets the bike fall onto the pavement, where he tosses a handful of dirt over it and on his clothes and face. But he also violently kicks and stomps on the bike, his main mode of transportation throughout the rest of the movie’s shaky handheld shots of him biking the city streets.
Like Me: Mendi Barsheshet and Yoav Keren – Breaking Glass Pictures
Tom saves his tip, but the moment, rather than coming across as a clever payoff, points to the same awkward direction that continually centers Tom’s ungainly dancing as seductive or alluring. In fact, the movie opens on a short clip of Tom dancing, ends with an extended video of him dancing to funk-pop trio half•alive’s “Still Feel,” and several times features him dancing with friends at parties, or flirting with Rami during photo shoots.
Meant to express Tom’s queer joy and youthful independence, his freestyle moves don’t generally express any sexy sense of rhythm or physical confidence. Keren, who doesn’t dance like someone professionally trained, might have improvised Tom’s dance-like-no-one’s-watching flails and twists, and that’s fine. But the reliance on dance as a thematic touchstone perhaps warranted the contributions of a choreographer to find a language of movement that Keren actually speaks fluently.
As is, the desired effect doesn’t register decisively. The performance and staging are more convincing in scenes showing the intimate closeness between Tom and Gilad. Their attraction builds as the pair rehearse their amorous roles in a school production of The Picture of Dorian Gray. And Gilad takes it upon himself to teach his childhood friend how to caress a girl before moving in for a kiss.
The will-they-or-won’t-they stays headed in one predictable direction, but Barsheshet, playing the typically wishy-washy one in the relationship, adds a frisson of tension to Gilad’s dance with possible bisexuality. Tom’s own indecisive behavior — pining for Gilad’s attention, then running to Rami whenever Gilad ignores or mistreats him — also plays out honestly.
By comparison, the running subtext about how all these young people’s behavior is warped by their compulsion to craft stories for social media consumption feels forced and dated — like an ill-timed dancer, just missing the beat of a familiar tune.
Like Me is available on VOD and digital platforms, including iTunes, Google Play, Vudu, and local cable & satellite providers, and on DVD. Visit www.bgpics.com.
Many filmmakers draw from the well of their personal heartbreaks in their work, but few do so with the lurid perversity of David Cronenberg.
Forty-six years ago, while going through a bitter divorce, the Canadian filmmaker wrote and directed The Brood, a horror flick in which a woman, loosely based on Cronenberg's ex-wife, asexually spawns a "brood" of dwarf-like murderers who terrorize her loved ones. Cronenberg famously told author Chris Rodley that he found it "satisfying" to shoot the climax, in which the woman's ex-husband ends the carnage by strangling her.
In recent years, Cronenberg, known for nightmarish '80s staples like Videodrome and The Fly, has been dealing with heartbreak of a different sort: the 2017 death of his second wife, Carolyn Zeifman, from cancer. His own grief clearly animates his 23rd feature, The Shrouds, an unflinchingly morbid meditation on loss, decay, and the vulgar nature of remembrance in a digital world -- a project that the 82-year-old director has called "my most autobiographical film."
“People just really wanna go to their happy place right now,” says Heather Barnes. “And Awesome Con is a happy place for a lot of people. Some people look forward to it all year long. And it's finally here. It's like Christmas.”
As a senior marketing manager at LeftField Media, Barnes is well-acquainted with the inherent joys of Awesome Con. The D.C. comic-con, held annually at the Walter E. Washington Convention Center, is a strikingly massive event, boasting panels, showcases, celebrity guests, tons of artists, and more attendee cosplay than you can wield a Poké Ball at.
Musicals don't always have to impress with kicklines, jazz hands, and spectacle. As Kander and Ebb wrote in their poignant song, "A Quiet Thing," "Happiness comes in on tip-toe/ well what'd'ya know/ It's a quiet thing/ A very quiet thing."
Much like the unexpected sleeper hit of the season, Maybe Happy Ending, a love story about two obsolete robots finding true connection, the Off-Broadway All the World's A Stage, is a wholly original story that quietly and happily makes room for reflection and introspection.
Gen X theater lovers particularly will appreciate Adam Gwon's musical about life in small town America in 1996. Matt Rodin stars as Ricky Alleman, a closeted math teacher new to the area.
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