By André Hereford on November 7, 2019 @here4andre

Barely a word is spoken in the first twelve minutes of End of the Century (Fin de Siglo) (★★★★☆), the sensual, Barcelona-set debut feature by Argentinian writer-director Lucio Castro. The camera wanders the city alongside solo traveler Ocho (Juan Ballerini), quietly absorbing the city’s sights and culture, whether people-watching from the balcony of his Airbnb, or on meandering walks along the seaside and among the pines topping Montjuïc.
A stranger in a Kiss t-shirt, passing through the square below Ocho’s apartment, catches his eye. Later, he and “Kiss” cruise each other on the city beach. Their first hookup is as inevitable as it is hot, and brief. But Ocho and the stranger, Javi (Ramón Pujol), a Barcelona native visiting from his current home in Berlin, exchange numbers in hopes of a future encounter that soon materializes. And the movie starts to make up for its wordless beginning, as the two travelers traverse the city, engaging in that dance of conversation, casual but defining, that marks the first stirrings of romance.
Romance might not be where their hookup, and this film, are headed, though. Ocho, an Argentinian poet who makes his living in marketing in New York, says he’s just out of a 20-year relationship, and Javi also isn’t interested in more than a casual thing before he returns to life in Berlin. Yet, their attraction is undeniable, as is the chemistry between Ballerini and Pujol, be it while sharing an impromptu sunset picnic, or during the film’s steamy sex scenes. Castro’s script conjures scenarios that could be ripped from porn or Playgirl fantasies — like, for instance, summoning a willing, good-looking passerby up to your Airbnb at a moment’s notice — but the direction and performances convey a natural, open sexuality that feels tender and authentic.
The movie coaxes out possibilities for the lovers’ future, or at least future hookups, then swerves suddenly, backtracking 20 years to Ocho and Javi’s past, to reveal that the two supposed strangers actually had met once before. It’s 1999, and they both happen to be in Barcelona. On the eve of the new century, a good portion of the modernized world is consumed with the fear that every computer on earth will shut down, and civilization might grind to a pause, at the moment date-clocks should strike 01-01-00.
Future, hopefully wiser generations might look back and laugh at the absurd Y2K scare, but Castro makes smart use of that singular moment in history as a legitimate trigger for contemplating transition. Even a realist like Ocho, who doesn’t take the hysteria seriously, might consider how life can change with the turn of the century. He might wonder whether he wants to dive into a relationship or jet around the world as unattached as can be, or maybe marry a woman like his friend Sonia (Mía Maestro). Ocho is privileged with freedom and potential when he meets Javi in 1999. His actions that weekend make all the difference in their paths going forward.
Shifting in time again, End of the Century contemplates more than one possible path for Ocho and Javi from the end of the 20th-century until now. The film signals those alternative shifts through subtle — sometimes too subtle — shifts in music or time of day, or by altering details like the contents of the apartment refrigerator. Each scene and frame rewards close observation, as the film as a whole also gains upon repeat viewing. The love story is simple but it captures the depth of possibility that can underscore even the most offhand decision to leave or stay, to hold back or act.
Passages throughout are as dialogue-free as the opening, and equally picturesque, courtesy of cinematographer Bernat Mestres. When the pair do get to talking, they can go on, but their rapport is inviting, and their concerns universal. Ballerini and Pujol aren’t charged to do much heavy dramatic lifting, but rather achieve a warmth and ease that still is deceptively hard to create on-camera. Debating, kissing, or drunkenly dancing around the apartment, Ocho and Javi make good hangout company, as twentysomething dreamers and 20 years later, for the movie’s musing look at what was, what is, and what might have been.
End of the Century is not rated, and opens Friday, Nov. 8 at Landmark’s E Street Cinemas. Visit www.landmarktheatres.com/washington-d-c.
By André Hereford on August 8, 2026 @here4andre
Filmmaker Dean Francis makes B-movie bunk occasionally look alluring in Body Blow, a queer neo-noir about a closeted cop who goes rogue. The journey from good apple to total outlaw, however, is more a short dash for Officer Aiden.
Tim Pocock (X-Men Origins: Wolverine), giving as wooden a performance as you'll ever see, stars as the suburbanite constable, still fresh to the force and reassigned to a unit in Sydney's gay district. Neon-lit and framed like an '80s music video by cinematographer Franc Biffone, it's an impressively seedy side of the city.
Seemingly everybody is in on some form of crime or corruption. That might include Sgt. Steele (Sacha Horler, not wooden but not convincing), the lesbian officer who recruits Aiden to go undercover as a gayer-looking, peak-era Jean-Claude Van Damme.
By Randy Shulman on August 2, 2026 @RandyShulman
"I want people to enjoy themselves," says Gregg Araki of his newest blast of a film, I Want Your Sex, in which a starkly gorgeous Olivia Wilde plays a super-trendy abstract artist -- she makes vaginas out of chewed pink bubble gum -- who takes her latest employee, a doe-eyed innocent played by Cooper Hoffman, on a carnal thrill ride that blurs the line between sexual harassment and sensual awakening.
"I remember when we first started screening the film when I was still working on the edit," says Araki, 66, "and people were surprised by how friendly it was. The sensibility behind I Want Your Sex is fun and pop. I want to bring a little bit of joy into the world."
By Zach Schonfeld on August 8, 2026
Jane Schoenbrun makes movies for the weirdos for whom movies are realer than real life. In their films, old films and TV shows are portals to another world, vehicles of escape for characters whose own lives are weighted down by alienation and dysphoria. In 2024's extraordinarily haunting I Saw the TV Glow, two such characters find solace in a '90s TV show called The Pink Opaque, whose nightmarish visions, filmed with campy zeal by Schoenbrun, cross over and become realer than the empty contours of their unfulfilled lives.
The filmmaker is deeply attuned to the way pop-culture obsessions can both alleviate and intensify loneliness. It almost feels like a self-fulfilling prophecy; you can easily imagine Schoenbrun's own films, beginning with 2022's eerie We're All Going to the World's Fair, serving this role, being treasured and passed around by alienated youth the way previous generations latched onto Donnie Darko or The Nightmare Before Christmas. Loneliness seeps through the pores of Schoenbrun's cinema, but so does the possibility of queer connection and self-actualization.
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