Fantasmopolis

Leaving Metropolis recalled from the far reaches of my mind lines from the 1816 Lord Byron poem, When We Two Parted:

In secret we met--

In silence I grieve,

That thy heart could forget,

Thy spirit deceive.

If I should meet thee

After long years,

How should I greet thee?

With silence and tears.

This entertaining film is well-acted, intelligently-written and directed with great sensitivity. But it hit too close to home for comfort, which is perhaps one reason why I liked it. The story never over-reaches. The character arcs, as in all good stories, propel the plot forward building ever-increasing tension that is all the more palpable for its exquisite subtlety. Typically, the denouement in most gay-theme films either lacks credibility or is utterly predictable. Neither is the case with this exceptional film. When the lights come down and ninety minutes of screen time pass like five, when one is uplifted for having met the characters but saddened for having to depart from them too soon, when one experiences pathos and ethos in measure enough for an honest cathartic moment--that, for me, marks a worthwhile, captivating, artful film. Bravo! Bravo!

I guess we are all VERY different-at least when it comes to our opinion of the acting. I think the premise was good, very real (my partner and I were both straight-married when we met), the location is unique, the supporting cast interesting, the acting.... terrible! The main actor's skill may be fine for stage where melodrama is a good thing, here, I couldn't stop wondering who slept with whom to get this part. The wife was a bad actress most of the time, the rest of the cast were fine however. Just way to much drama and too little script development.

I don't think we need happy endings and this movie lacked meat, but if you can get over the acting, which I couldn't, it is a fair movie to watch, then to forget.

I came twice to watch this film in a lapse of more than ten years. What motivated to write a review was the recall I had from it, when the character David (Troy Huptash) the painter, curses his best friend Kryla (Lynda Boyd) Faghag. That shocked me, coming from a gay man. And that was one of the few memoirs I had from the film. Seeing it a second time just showed I was right: it has nothing remarkable. In particular, I still have the feeling that Huptash acting has nothing profound – he seemed to read his lines. I would say that Matt (Vincent Corazza) character is deeper. He really shows he's torn between this wife and his new found lover David. Besides, Corazza is a piece of a man, well build developed and a good actor. Overall, it's a film to be watched, perhaps even twice as I did. Another predicate is to say it aged well. The conflicts shown are undying and worth reflection from the viewer.

I think I'm willing to give this flick a bit more credit than some of the other commentators. While I think there were some problems with the ending, overall the script worked pretty well. I do agree the part of Violet could have been beefed up a bit more; still, I think this was a fairly engaging movie about love & desire. I thought Ruptash as David was convincing. The only things that seem forced are the constant references to "Superman"; I know that this is supposed to be the subtext for movie, but it feels like the director/writer just stuck it in to hammer home his message. Even so, I think this movie works well for a portrayal of someone who's finding out things about himself he never suspected (Corazza as Matt). This may work better as a play, as did the director/writer's "Unidentified Human Remains and the True Nature of Love" vs. the movie "Love and Human Remains" (although I thought it was a pretty good movie).

I would like to have seen Fraser's play, POOR SUPER MAN, largely because there are plaintive allusions to Superman in the film that make me know they were, in some context not necessarily evident, important. I think the film became confused: fading pre-op transsexual, nasty self-loathing, fag hag friend with a drinking problem, a closeted straight man too innocent for life-- with an accompanying jealous wife-- and a Virgil-like artist guide who seems compelled to lead them all through the Circles of Hell.

I was not surprised that the artist and his straight man foil have sex; steamy and straightforward sex. I was shocked, however, that so much of the movie then seemed to pivot on the obvious. The only vital thing I saw were the paintings of straight man Matt which artist David had conjured out of desire and the experience of desire ( who said TS Eliot was a dessicated old bag? He knew this story backwards and forwards!). These were both titillating and of heroic dimension.

Maybe we should have skipped the film and gone, instead, to the exhibition.

I suggest one see LOVE AND HUMAN REMAINS and LEAVING METROPOLIS together; LOVE AND HUMAN REMAINS is the better of the two, but, together, one gets a real glimpse of Fraser's enormous talent.