By Kyle Flynn

Elliot Tuttle’s provocative and erotic film made waves for the nature of its storytelling and its exploration of social taboos when it premiered at The Edinburgh Film Festival, in my opinion, one of the best places for young and/or debut filmmakers to premiere, with every year featuring a strong, curated selection. Which is why I was a little embarrassed for being so unfamiliar with the film until earlier this year. Within our current landscape of contemporary cinema, it was nice to find a film that achieves this rarefied status and offers something fresh and different. 

The film is a two-hander between the characters Aaron Eagle, played by Kieron Moore, and without going into too much into the many surprises this film holds once a anonymous gentleman who has committed to paying $25k to spend the night with Aaron, is revealed to be a former teacher from his past named Hank, played by Reed Birney. In pursuit of maintaining a narratively consistent tone, the film finds its footing with an admittedly very difficult topic to digest. I imagine Tuttle might take issue with this assertion, but the feeling that comes closest to being invoked during my artistic life is the anonymously published Incest Diary. A memoir that is similar to Blue Film has an almost salacious feeling to the art you’re engaging with. 

The unfortunate fact about Blue Film is that throughout the course of the sub-90-minute runtime, you can begin to notice the bearing on the screenplay. Despite the humane, even empathetic read you can make of the film. The dialogue doesn’t feel nearly as audacious as the film as a whole, with many of the more polarizing conversations feeling like they could have delivered more. Much of the first half is comprised of Hank inquiring about Aaron, but it all came across to me as ‘so what?’ The film, in my opinion, makes the right decision by having the space to view Hank as a flawed and problematic person without excusing him for his actions. I loved the sensual scenes, which are excellently written, fully self-aware of the proximity of the relationship that the audience will have to the film, and every reaction between the two actors feels like you know each of them on an intimate level. 

Of the two actors, you are comparing apples to oranges with a two-hander like this, both need to understand the vision and assignment. Both clearly do, and Tuttle’s writing and direction certainly benefit from the guidance. I must admit Reed Birney sells his role a bit more to me; it exists in a bizarre plane of reality where you are trying to feel out the nature of a person. Kieron Moore misunderstood and played a role written under the guise of the truth of sex-work, but the also utterly honest about relationships. It was difficult for me at first to place his performance exactly, but I respected his commitment to the turn. The pair’s vulnerability in the role adds to the story’s dramatic effect. 

The true success of the film is its ability to let you project your own thoughts onto it. A film with no easy answers, but one that invites you to make your own determinations about the relationship. 

🌟 🌟 🌟 1/2 stars