Interior. Leather Bar.

How this 60 minute piece of drivel ever got made, or was released, is beyond comprehension. It is nothing more than an extremely tedious version of what used to be known as "vanity press". Franco should be ashamed of himself. Why he, his collaborator, and the "actors" in this piece of garbage thought they had anything constructive to say about "rumored" cuts made to a 50-year old film, borders on the incredulous. Anyone can "imagine" what those phantom 40 minutes of sex in a leather bar might actually have shown. I imagine it would be a whole lot less boring and painful to watch than this waste of film (or tape). Anyone who had anything to do with this dreadful enterprise should be forever banned from film-making!

I like James Franco as an actor, and he seems like he'd be a cool person to hang out with (though maybe not if you're an aspiring actress, allegedly). It's James Franco the writer/director/artist/poet/musician/provocateur that's a problem for me. Part of it is envy, I'll admit (I wish I had freedom and funding to indulge all MY creative whims), but a larger part of it is I suspect that James Franco the Multifaceted Artist is a total poser.

"Interior. Leather Bar." doesn't dispel my belief that Franco is a poser, but it also re-enforces my belief that he'd be a cool friend. Val Lauren, the actor playing Al Pacino's character from the movie "Cruising," thinks Franco is a cool friend, Franco's involvement the primary reason he's agreed to participate in this project, even as his agent strongly advises him not to (his wife just wants him home in time for dinner). He seems more intrigued by playing a role originated by Pacino than Franco's and co-director Travis Mathews' stated thesis that the leather bars of "Cruising" represent a subculture that's fading away as homosexuals gain greater acceptance in mainstream society. (AIDS might also have had something to do with it but I guess that's too sad. Also: "Cruising" as a gay culture touchstone? Not sure about that.) When Lauren questions James Franco directly about why he thinks the missing 40 minutes from William Friedkin's "Cruising" needs to be explored, Franco says something about needing to confront the world of gay leather bars to challenge fears he has only because he was raised to have them. This seems like something that could be challenged by getting a trial subscription to any one of a number of gay porn sites, or while making all the gay-themed movies he's been a part of ("Milk," "Howl," "The Broken Tower"), but maybe he just wants to be sure he's been thoroughly challenged.

But "Interior. Leather Bar." does more meandering than challenging. Actors, both gay and straight, spend most of their time wondering what's expected of them. Some of wonder if James Franco will be in the movie and if he will get naked (not really and no, respectively). Others wonder just how far they are expected to go. Pretty far, as it turns out: real, non-simulated sex takes place, though it barely makes up five minutes of screen time in the total ten minutes of leather bar footage. Consequently, the movie is labeled porn by some, though I don't think it is. In fact, one sex scene seems realer than most, and you actually sense an emotional connection between the couple involved. Pretty impressive when you consider they've got an audience -- including an Oscar-nominated actor -- circling them as they get busy on a sofa. It's not a surprise to learn immediately after that the actors are a couple off-screen. Though Lauren seems pretty shell-shocked by the action on set, he compliments the two men, telling them they appear to have a great relationship. For his part, Franco isn't a co-director so much as the project's instigator. Mathews does the bulk of the directing, with Franco shown leaving early, right after watching two dudes have sex. Make of that what you will.

"Interior. Leather Bar." is presented as being the re-creation of the missing 40 minutes from "Cruising," but it's more like a glorified DVD extra accompanying a movie that was never finished. It's strangely fascinating but also frustratingly pointless.

I, too, was expecting something else, but although this is weird, choppy, and appears to have no point on the surface; I like how Franco (please just come out already) casts the point-of-view from the perspective of the straight guy who is new to all this and just got dragged into it and so on. Franco's point (to him, and to the viewer) is just because something (in this case, gay sex) is not only outside your experience, but something you have been programmed to hate, does not necessarily make it so for the people involved, hence the loving gay couple. Basically I got to see it for free on Netflix, an hour of time I could have spent watching the violence he is railing about. I don't mind the hour, would recommend it to somebody who's seen a million movies and willing to try something different. And if you're a little pervy there isn't much, but there is some nice flesh on display here. (check that one butt shot) lol

I love reconstructions, forensic investigations and film mysteries, so I was really looking forward to this. Alas this film lost me about five minutes in, when Mathews casually declares they haven't got the money or the time (nor, I imagine, the discipline or the ability) to reconstruct the missing footage, so they are going to do a bit what they want. Ah, great -- not. It goes downhill from there, pretty much. In reality it isn't even a re-imagination: it's more like a making-of of itself. A big theme is the squeamishness of the straight actors, which is so very 2005. Perhaps at the time it was still a big deal for a straight guy to play gay, I am not sure. In any case, this is pretentious, meaningless rubbish.

Maybe James Franco was a little ahead of his time with this? He does make a point towards the end that illustrates the pointed refusal of mainstream American cinema to show scenes of active gay sex. People can merrily blow each other to bits, heterosexuals and lesbians can fill their boots - but man on man penetrative sex without recourse to endless shadows or subtly placed duvets is as rare as hen's teeth. That may have been his laudably ultimate point here, but the remainder of this rather dull documentary pits together a bunch of largely straight actors, clad (or not) in skimpy leathers and plunged into darkness for a sex-room style series of supposedly random sexual encounters - one or two of them briefly graphic and another quite painful! Anyone expecting the missing forty minutes from "Cruising" (1980) to be presented is in for quite a disappointment. The vast majority of this consists of talking heads between the Z-list "talent" recruited who are struggling to intellectualise the fact that they are just required to get naked and fumble with another bloke. It's called acting, boys - it's not Shakespeare! Good on James for asking some questions, but most of this is just like porn in general - it's much more fun to take part the to watch.