Acts of Love

I don't normally write reviews because I'm not very good at writing but I noticed the other reviews here and just wanted to say my part. I'm a straight woman and I loved this movie. I feel different having seen it, like it opened up my eyes to ways I've loved and been loved in the past. I saw echoes of my past boyfriends, I saw myself in it, I learned things, I felt uncomfortable, and I felt loved. So much about the movie was unusual and surprising but it always paid off and made me want to keep watching. It's probably not for everybody - it's weird and unlike anything I've ever seen - but it definitely was for me. And it might be for you, too.

I've never understood art very well. So if this movie is a form of art, then you must excuse me for not getting any meaning in it. To me it's just a bunch of nothingness. Just like the mother said to him, it's just a bunch of meaningless meetings with several men. There's no moral lesson to learn from it, no messages to receive from it. Even until the end of the film. It's just a big fat nothing to me. Sorry, but if you want me to honestly rate it, then this is my answer.

Stumbled upon this somewhere online and decided to watch it out of curiosity. The pictorial intro caught my attention to what this story may be about. Didn't expect it to turn into a somewhat self indulgent autobiographical soirée of hookups, conflicted yes, no, give or take BJ, hj, lovemaking? There is a certain tenderness to the subject matter of connections. The author himself seems boyishly charming, vulnerable enough for his objective to solicit the necessary reactions from his subjects, confused, torn, self validating... I don't know.. Sigh. The best parts to this little venture seems to be his phone conversations with his mom. I'm very much in awe of her feedback. Such succinct, powerful, insightful, accurate and honest comments to what her son is doing with this film and what the public perception would be. I share her views entirely. There's basically no need to write any script for any scene. Just meet, chat, share, do or don't the deed, reflect, done. The juxtapositioning of still photos and commentary interspersed within scenes is interesting. Perhaps more appropriate titles could be; Acts of Affection, Pass the salt, WhyFind Disconnections, or what the great Tina would decry ; " What's love gotta do with it?".

Isidore Bethel's pseudo intellectual film about trying to find love with strangers in Chicago after his own relationship starts to fade is a boring, yawn fest. Lucky for the viewer, it's only a little over an hour long. Bethel's inability to sexually connect with others, after half-assed attempts, has more to do with the fact that he's still in love with his partner who lives in Mexico City. He relies on his mother for guidance and advice with respect to this project on which he's working. Sadly, she has no answers for her son that are particularly helpful. She counsels him as a mother, not as a friend or documentary expert. Isidore seems lost, and frankly, so does the viewer. His sexual tension is of little interest to anyone but him. One good thing is the bull terrier that one of his 'contacts' has. I say that as a dog lover, not as a plus for this beleaguered picture.

The subject matter is fairly universal - the frustration of your beloved not loving you back in the way you want, and the existential loneliness it triggers. Most people would choose to drink, seek casual sex etc... Our director is an artist, and chooses to make a film.

There's definitely interesting bits beyond the titillating set up that involves real sex and sexual tension. All these different people come in, and as the project progresses, we see how different expectations, subtle manipulations, desires and different levels of hypocrisy clashe and dissipate. There's no surprise. We all see what we want to see, and at the end of it is miscommunication and broken connection - existential loneliness, in one word.

Many (including director's mother) seem to find it uncomfortable to see the director dares to turn this process into a work, but I think it's rather common for a young artist to display so much self-consciousness and ambition -the belief he could turn his life into an art-. My criticism lies in that he remains unclear what he wants and where he goes with this project. The only thing clear is his longing and obsession for his lover in Mexico City. When he is so preoccupied with him, it's no surprise that he fails to connect to any of the participants, to the project itself and ultimately to himself.

I hope Isidor reaches certain clarity with more experience, age and deeper contemplation. Then 'Acts of Love' would be viewed as a little remnant of his process, a brain storm of his art and life.