Postcards from London

This is one of those films that I felt really, really, belonged on a stage. The moody, sometimes seedily provocative settings; the occasionally jazzy soundtrack; a lighting and a visual style very much shot from a POV (even peeping) perspective all create an intimacy that falls a bit flat on the screen, but could work far better in a theatrical setting using our own naked eye. I'm genuinely convinced that Harris Dickinson is going to amount to something as an actor. Regardless as to whether you think this is surreal nonsense, or something altogether more ethereal, there is no denying that for a young, straight, man, Dickinson has a self confidence and honesty about his acting that really cuts through. Ostensibly about a group of sophisticated rent boys - or "raconteurs" as they prefer, this is not in any way seamy. It's seductive - even teasing at times, but it isn't about sex; even sex workers. It's about this young man using art as a (slightly contrived) conduit for his aspirations for friendship, acceptance and of his determination to do what he needs to do when he needs to do it - but not to allow that behaviour or attitude to become habitual or toxic. The story, insofar as it actually matters, is poor though, almost irrelevant. The film is presented as a disjointed collection of instalments that don't really deliver on any level; the overall narrative is just a bit too fanciful and boy, can it be slow at times. Indeed, it's not a very good film, this - the stuff of a vivid imagination that would take someone of greater experience than auteur Steve McLean to hone it into better shape - but flawed as it undoubtedly is, it's a visually compelling series of mini-stories held together well by a man not afraid to push his boundaries and show us he can act.

Tjhis movie is a pretentious and self-serving pile of manure. It has absolutely no redeeming features, other than some of the actors, who are at least very easy on the eyes. In fact, the most attractive of those actors is not the main character.

The cinematography is very much like watching a play transposed to cinema, the set (small) scenes and lighting just seems like someone has taken a moderately successful stage-play and done a somewhat lazy transposition to the screen. I appreciate that budgets might have been small, but producing for the stage vs cinema is a very different thing.

don't get me wrong, I like the slightly surreal aspects (the parent's dining table) but the execution didn't quite make it, it's just a too too literal translation of the set-design and the lighting-design onto screen which just doesn't work.

I don't want to be harsh, because there are precious few interesting indie movies out there but its not 'grand budapest hotel' or 'gods own country'

a solid 6, but with a different producer / designer / director then it could have been better. can't really fault the actors at all.

I've continued watching, after the 1st 'chapter', it does move into other directions!

If you're expecting the gritty, sweaty reality of rent boys in London, you'll find this movie disappointing. While there are some brief, decidedly homoerotic poses struck by the boys that replicate some of Caravaggio's paintings, the rent boys in this fantasy film are more about the cerebral than the physical. As mentioned several times in the film, they do not like the term "rent boys," preferring to be called "raconteurs."

The clients are obviously drawn to the physical beauty of the boys, in particular Harris Dickinson, but (and one must be reminded that this is a fantasy) it is the boys' ability to discuss artists such as Caravaggio in depth that seals the deal, so to speak.

One reviewer referred to this as "pretentious 'dibble'". Not sure what "dibble" is. I didn't notice anyone in the film dribbling, so presumably he meant "drivel." I have to totally disagree with that. I found it all to be fascinating and the actors carried it off with marvelous skill.

If I attempted to explain what it all meant, I would undoubtedly descend into pretentious drivel. It was somewhat amusing and presumably intended to mentally stimulate the viewer by making it all open to different interpretations. It undoubtedly explored the different forms of exploitation, but not in a way that demands all viewers react in a singular, predictable way.

I thoroughly enjoyed Postcards from London and will probably watch it again because, like a painting by Caravaggio, it contains far more than can be absorbed in one glance. I can easily see that it wouldn't appeal to everyone, but it definitely deserves attention as a thought-provoking film.

I'm a sucker for Caravaggio, so that was enough to draw me in. But there's a lot more to this film. It's not everyone's cup of tea, and I can understand people thinking it's pretentious, but I don't think it is. It's whimsical, imaginative, original, and beautiful to look at. Don't expect Bergman or Almodovar. Just enjoy an odd, sexy bit of story telling.