Beijando o Sol

Gripping and grabbing from the start, this movie is (simplistically) about two young men, strangers who meet by a curious design. They then become your favorite fairy tale, and perhaps will carve a hunk of sex/love out of you, and hang it overhead and inside at the same time.

I'd give you a linear description of "Sun Kissed," but that's not possible; it exists rather in a spiral time/space frame--no need worrying WHERE and WHEN you are, but just give thanks that you're in a good and beautiful (and fine-smelling place, a aspect of attraction curiously neglected heretofore).It may be occasionally agonizing--but it's always very sexy. Written, directed and produced by Patrick McGuinn, the film puts the breathtaking Gregory Marcel (whose character defines this movie as James Dean defined "Rebel.." for example). Marcel is handsomely complemented by John Ort's needful-though-brilliant and erotically super-charged narrator. Gorgeous cinematography (without which there is never a real movie), in case you think I only care about how they look and smell. For those few of you who worry about love, and/or want to see lots of it, this is your late-summer early-autumn movie. It works really well when it's very cold, by the way. Think of Proust comtemplating a marble statue of St. Sebastian, if that might help.

Not for Lesbians, nor wannabe's thereof.

I'm giving the male lead, Gregory Marcel, a ten because he is a ten - what a chunk. In fact, he is the only reason I watched this dreadful film as long as I did. Bottom line, this film is in search of a story and it just never finds it. No story, no movie, but the director/writer continues on as though everything is okay when nothing is okay at all. The film is an absolute mish-mash of ideas that do never come together so you are left hanging with one storyline after another that doesn't connect with any other storyline. Yikes! What goes on here? I stuck it out almost to the end but even hunky Gregory Marcel wasn't enough to keep me going when the endless story lines just wore me out!

The beginning of any great movie is a good script. This does not have that... but I've seen worse. The cinematography is bad... but I've seen worse. The editing fuels the disjointed script... but I've seen worse. This movie is directed by its screenwriter, he knows what he wants to see but it does not connect well with an audience that is not so close to the subject matter... but I've seen worse. The main score is straight out of a 1970's porn film. The parts of the score that captioned the "eerie music" is "Jingle Bells, Jingle All The Way" set in a minor key with bad electronic instrumentation (probably for budget's sake.)... but I've heard worse. There is zero concept of the secondary character having a mental problem, only bad dreams of people he cares about getting hurt. It's not until it is spelled out, two-thirds of the way into the movie, that we find out that he suffers from a mental disease. The symptoms of the disease is not explained, full-stop. So if you don't know anything about said affliction, you won't get this disjointed film... but I've seen worse. The character that writes the book is "maybe" abducted by aliens?! This simply is bad writing, bad editing, bad continuity, bad directing and an awful waste of celluloid. The same could be said about every scene that the female character (and her acting ability, or the lack there of) could have saved more budget by not filming these sequences or at least try to save the films integrity by leaving those bad scenes on the cutting room floor... I can't say I've seen worse. The original songs in the score are contrite, the lyrics make no sense from one line of the tune to the next. What exactly was their point and what were they trying to say that enhances the film? Nothing. The best that can be said of the songs is that they did not attempt to use cliche lyrics (listen to "The Morning After" from the film "The Poseidon Adventure". Every cliche ever imagined is used in that song except "It was a dark and stormy night.") So, congratulations on using unconventional lyrics, but please try to make them coherent so that they make sense and move the story line along... I can't say I've heard worse. The actors, in moments, show some acting ability but seem to be not quite sure how to stay properly in frame. Some of this is not their fault. The director wanted an extreme close up in some scenes, so the acting comes off as untrained in what exactly the phrase "what is my frame" means... but I've seen worse.

I'm greatly (and, it seems, unusually) blessed in being able to enjoy things without understanding them. I have no idea what Sun Kissed is "about": whether Leo and Teddy are one person, or two, or none; whether this is a coming out story or a psychological allegory or a murder mystery, or all three, or something else; whether anybody was murdered or when; whether anything in this movie actually happened or not. I don't know, and I don't care. I was very gratified to learn from previous reviewers that Patrick McGuinn refused to provide any explanations when interviewed. Good for him!

I happen to love movies like this, that defy understanding, that force me either to accept them on their own terms and see if I can enjoy them, or reject them. I gave Sun Kissed a chance, and I'm very glad I did.

I understood nothing, and I enjoyed every second, from the first frame to the last note in the dark. I don't know what it was, and I don't know why, but I sure did like it. It was a rich, lush, sensual, engrossing experience that I'd welcome again any time, anywhere.

"Sun Stroke" would be a better title - if not to describe the disorienting feeling of viewing it, then to describe the leading men - who can't seem to stop doing it to each other. The first 30 minutes are plausible, if slow and poorly written, but then the story becomes a muddle of flashbacks, flash forwards and God knows what else. The director admittedly wanted to 'disorient' the viewer (inspired by Bunuel, he claims) and, well, he succeeded! Sadly, the photography is as poor as some of the dialogue. The film looks to be shot on end stock, which is distracting enough. The dialogue is similarly clunky. "You ask a lot of questions," one hunk says three times to a writer whose shacked up in a desert to finish his novel. But not once does the guy have the wit to follow up with "What are you writing, a book?" Although the leads are fairly credible, the few others are not so good, including the actor playing Crispin, the mysterious owner of said shack. By the end of this extremely languid 90 minutes, I had no idea what was what nor did I care. I suggest a sequel set at the McDowell Colony in January. Call it "Frost Bite".