The mood — reflective and melancholic — is set with the sparse piano on the soundtrack that introduces shirtless Sam, portrayed by Elliot Page, scanning the world outside his window in a concrete corner of Toronto.
Page bares his own top-surgery scars in the scene, lending a personal, physical dimension to Sam’s story, which Page co-conceived with writer-director Dominic Savage. The filmmaker doesn’t deviate much from the brooding mood, but rather just tightens and loosens the tension that accompanies all the dread.
Sam is stressed in anticipation of returning to his hometown, and family, for the first time in four years. He hasn’t seen anyone from home since he transitioned. Choosing his dad’s big birthday weekend get-together as the venue for his homecoming-out might backfire, warns Sam’s friend and housemate Emily (Sook-Yin Lee).
But, dread be damned, away he goes by train from Toronto to leafy, small-town Culver. His first awkward encounter with someone from home — Katherine (Hillary Baack), a friend from high school, now a married mom whom he spots on the train — doesn’t bode well. Still, the brief reunion does supply enough detail to signal that Kat and Sam were previously closer than just friends, and it leaves both with questions lingering heavily on their minds.
Everyone in Sam’s family has something weighing heavily on their mind, it seems, though not everyone spills, or snaps, at the same time. Savage brightens the mood somewhat for Sam’s surprising welcome home scene, where he gently reconnects with mom Miriam (Wendy Crewson), dad Jim (Peter Outerbridge), and his siblings and their partners.
The scene bears hints of the domestic warmth Sam craves, and that the film could use more of to add dimension to its shades of gray. Outside of stray bits of snark from Sam, the film forgoes humor for angst almost completely.
So, the awkwardness persists, and Page, being the expressively interior actor he is, finds within that many affecting colors to play, as tension escalates with each heart-to-heart between Sam and his respective family members. Each one asks all the same catch-up questions — about his job, his happiness, his love life — posed with varying degrees of concern or pity.
The poignant notes of long-delayed homecomings, and polite welcomes that hide old resentments, ring true. So do the uncomfortable conversations with Dad, who’s eager to talk about Sam’s past depression, older sis Kate (Janet Porter), who harbors all sorts of other doubts, and Mom, who’s supportive with intention, yet still hung up on losing her “little girl.”
The film carefully, and too patly, hits every trending concern family might have about their adult trans loved one living alone in the big city. Some in the family seem to wonder if happiness could even be possible for a person like Sam. And one family member steps far over the line, going from awkward and passive aggressive to openly hostile.
The ensuing climax feels like the movie reaching its inevitable destination, but, despite a sense of contrivance, the acting holds up. Crewson and Outerbridge are particularly good as loving parents processing a host of difficult emotions at once, and Page thoroughly embodies the fulfillment Sam has found in his life, as well as the compassion he’s seeking.
Unfortunately, neither Page nor Baack lend much tension or suspense to the will-they-or-won’t-they between Sam and Katherine. Baack certainly conveys that Katherine sees and appreciates Sam for who he is now and has always been. For someone like Sam, who says he just wants to feel seen, that’s a victory worth the train ride home.
I remember doing the time warp in a living room. As a gay kid in the suburbs of Seattle who loved black-and-white monster movies like Bride of Frankenstein, I was drawn to The Rocky Horror Picture Show in late-night viewings on cable. Overloaded in image and sound, Rocky Horror had everything: a spooky old mansion, creepy caretakers, a young couple in danger, rock and roll.
And still more: Patricia Quinn's blood red, disembodied lips. Barry Bostwick's buttoned-up Brad Majors dressed down to his high-waisted tighty-whities. Tim Curry's Dr. Frank-N-Furter, a mad scientist in fishnets and heels. And, of course, that writhing bundle of muscles, bulging in gold booties and briefs, the credit to Frank's Frankensteinian genius, Peter Hinwood's Rocky Horror, the film's titular Adonis.
Before it veers into a gay cautionary tale, Tadeo Pestaña Caro's stylishly low-key A Few Feet Away maintains an effortless neutrality about the sex and dating exploits of its soft-spoken hero Santiago.
Just twenty years old, Santiago is an architecture student fairly new to Buenos Aires, a fresh, cute twink from the province still gaining his footing in the city. That telling detail, revealed during Santi's first hookup in the film, partly explains why he relies on the dating app Grindr for making new friends.
That does not explain why Santiago simply can't stay off Grindr. He becomes practically consumed with scrolling through faceless, nameless profiles, in desperate search of who knows what exactly. Hiding behind his profile name "Seth," he's not just after sex, it seems, and he's not looking for love, as far as we're led to believe.
Is willowy Londoner Bella truly going mad, or is her enigmatic husband Jack carrying out a devious plot to convince her she's losing her mind? And if so, to what end? In modern terms, Bella is desperately pondering whether Jack is trying to gaslight her into thinking she's going insane.
The terminology and the plot of Johnna Wright and Patty Jamieson's Deceived, now at Everyman Theatre, derive from Patrick Hamilton's Victorian thriller Gas Light, which premiered in 1938, before being adapted into the Oscar-winning 1944 film Gaslight, starring Ingrid Bergman as distressed newlywed Paula.
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