Beira-Mar; ou l'âge des premières fois

So do you suppose there is a way for me to sue Filipe Matzembacher and Marcio Reolon, the directors of this staggeringly boring movie, for my time back? This film was rambling, boring, pointless. I wondered if this even had a script and they just let the actors improvise. Nothing was solved. Nothing resolved. I finally kept fast-forwarding through it hoping that something would happen. The actors were cute and seemed to be able to act. But I certainly won't be looking out for anything by these directors again. What a waste of my time. What is it with gay movies that the creators seem to think they have to get artsy-fatsy? Straight love films have a beginning, middle and end. Why can't a gay movie?

I can understand this movie doesn't get the best rating from the average gay movie viewer. It stays away from most gay movie clichés. There's no mentioning of anything gay scene related. There's no dancing to cheap house music in a gay disco or bar. There's no muscular actors or too pretty characters with successful high paid jobs. There's no singing of musical tunes nor is there a group of happy gay friends sharing their latest flings. There's no straight guys to be turned and no rent-boys and hustlers to be paid. There's no diseases and it doesn't end in drama. There's no acting in which inner dialogue is is being constantly expressed in words. There's no gimmicks or tricks to keep you entertained nor endless music scores on piano. There's two boys that could have been your best mates at school (when you discovered alternative music, alcohol and smoking weed) who admit to loving each other more than they dared show before. I enjoyed the natural pacing of this movie, the timeless boredom of seaside towns out of season, the frustration of family and the recognizable (big) events in the little lives of the everyday characters involved. Well done, I need more of this!

A soft tale of rite of passage for two boys. The story unfolds in an undramatic way. Nothing more than the absolutely necessary is explained. The acting is superb, awkwardness, confusion, fragility and desire all perfectly depicted on the actors' faces.

Well, this film was about...uhm, what was it about? Nothing happened - and I mean NOTHING! It was about nothing. This was like watching someone's home videos. It is a very quiet film and very weirdly photographed. There's no chemistry between the actors. I wanted to hit the forward button to get the movie to move along, or just go somewhere! I wondered why some scenes ended up in the film instead of the editing room floor. This...was...so...slow...moving...

Yawn!

Here is an example of self-conscious introspection going in too many directions at once. Bad enough for the viewer trying to cope with shaky frames from hand-held cameras, even worse when the narrative slows for long, heavy pauses in either words or actions. One wonders why so many low budget films share this phenomenon. It is tempting to call out to the screen, "Get on with it, already!"

Still, there is charm in the notion that two young friends can figuratively swim their way, as ocean sounds play in the distance, through casual interruptions in a simple assignment to locate and retrieve a family document of some importance as they visit a beach house in the cold of winter. It might even be possible to salvage this film by cutting out totally irrelevant scenes that serve only to provide background for their respective characters. A filmmaker's self-indulgence in attempting to recreate a familiar story from his or her past reminds me of how quickly I run away whenever someone says, "To make a long story short..." which in fact becomes a stream of consciousness without an end.

Indeed, there is no clear end to this film. It just goes on and on.