One could be forgiven for assuming Blue Film’s provocative, sexually-driven sole goal is to shock and titillate given the jaw-dropping premise. But this compelling indie from writer/director Elliot Tuttle has far more on its mind. The setup is deceptively simple: a cocky camboy agrees to spend the night with an anonymous high-paying client. What follows certainly dabbles in the sexually explicit. However, Tuttle’s immersive script leans on the power of its two performers to spin a deeply uncomfortable concept into a thematically rich conservation starter. Both Kieron Moore (Netflix’s underrated Boots) and Reed Birney (The Menu, Mass) do exceptional work, unafraid to embrace the vulnerability of their textured characters. As decades of history bubble to the surface, the duo’s interactions grow even more chilling… and strangely fascinating. Compelling and unwaveringly bold, Blue Film digs into the psychology of a pedophile, and maintains an edge of humanity through the richness of Moore and Birney.
Blue Film unfolds entirely over the course of a single night. Right out of the gate, Tuttle’s queer drama wastes no time in immersing audience members into its complicated worldview. What begins as a transactional encounter between Aaron Eagle (Moore) and his newest, ski-mask-wearing client, Hank (Birney), becomes an increasingly sticky situation. Wasting little time, Hank is revealed to have a disturbing connection to Aaron’s past that provides a bevy of moral questions and curiosities. As the night progresses, their dynamic shifts from performative to emotionally motivated. Hank’s identity unlocks further memories within Aaron that may have been suppressed. Aaron keeps insisting that he isn’t the same child Hank once knew, but is there a familiarity in Aaron’s eyes? What about his aura?
Without spoiling too much about their exchanges, both Moore and Birney work hard to sell this dynamic, one between convicted pedophile and former student. Why did Hank never make moves on Aaron when he was the exact right age? How much does love factor into the equation? What about the religious implications of indulging in such black and white, unforgivably awful behavior? Birney maybe has the harder job in needing to sell the audience on Hank. His attitude seems restrained, but his judgments are worn right on his sleeve. He looks down on Aaron for embracing sex work, convinced that nothing good can come of embracing one’s deepest desires.
On the other hand, Moore could have simply rested on eye candy alone. His performance opens the movie in a crescendo, a hyper-masculine persona that Aaron wears like a coat of armor. He constantly drops the F-slur, and one certainly gets the impression that Aaron views himself as being above those who worship his plump ass or hairy assets. The gradual peeling back of Aaron’s hardened exterior is where Moore’s work really soars, particularly in exploring past relationships. There’s a man underneath the Aaron Eagle persona, and Moore’s take proves understanding of the nuances. The chemistry between Hank and Aaron is deliberately uncomfortable; that tension fuels the entire film with a red-hot charge. Moore and Birney could not have been more perfectly cast in their respective roles.
In exploring how these two polar opposite men have approached their lives, disturbing parallels can be discovered. Both have dealt with trauma, and both hide under a layer of identity performance. Each man has internalized elements of the past, and compartmentalized them. However, the film wisely shies away from offering any level of redemption or resolution for the abuser. Frequent close-ups create an almost suffocating intimacy in the filmmaking that dares viewers to keep watching. The camera frequently lingers uncomfortably long, forcing us to sit with the heavy dialogue. The most haunting element is the intercut home videos, adding memory–and necessary context–to a film that already plays with its fragmented nature. Blue Film dodges romanticizing the central relationship in this way by reminding us that Aaron was once a kid, too.
Blue Film is purposely not an easy watch. Tuttle’s approach remains confrontational throughout, adding a voyeuristic bent to the proceedings. The subject alone will divide audiences. Who knows how those actually affected by molestation or pedophilia will react to the approach. The power of the perspective cannot be denied, nor can the lasting nature of its unsettling, no-stone-unturned approach to character development. Both Moore and Birney are fearless in their depictions of Aaron and Hank, respectively, never shying away from the heavy subject matter. Difficult but rewarding, Blue Film remains an intimate depiction of trauma and scars that may be impossible to shake.
Soak up the mesmerizing rays of Blue Film, playing in limited release theatres on Friday, May 8th.
