This is a gem of a movie. It is very, very good in so many ways that I don't know where to start, so I'll start with the performances.
Oh my, what delights! Vincent Branchet as the teen Beni, who is in love with a minor local rock star named Fögi, is perfect in every moment in every scene in this movie. The balance of innocence, shyness, and determination in his very first encounters with Fögi is totally real and totally convincing. His devotion to Fögi through his steady decline is so touching and so true that you believe absolutely that he could not have done anything else. And unlike 99.9% of movie characters, Beni is not a caricature--he's a complex character, a living human being, who changes significantly in response to what happens to him in the course of the movie. Beni goes from wide-eyed, enthusiastic innocence through great joy, great humiliation, cynicism, toughness, maturity, despair, and ultimate survival--and Branchet hits every single note absolutely perfectly. He is never predictable, never artificial, never "acting," and never, ever wrong. I've never seen a better performance by any actor in any movie, ever.
Frédéric Andrau has a less complex role in Fögi, but he carries it off just as expertly. Fögi is somewhat like Lou Reed (one of his idols), but less talented, less pretentious, and much more attractive. Fögi has Reed's nihilism without his survival instincts, and Andrau plays him raw, without any veneer of civility. But, despite the movie's strange title, Fögi is not a bastard, he's not a monster. He's a pure hedonist, he lives for pleasure alone, but he shares his pleasure freely with those around him, especially with Beni. But pleasure alone is not enough to make a life, and so Fögi's life runs out early.
What's most remarkable in both lead actors is their ability to embody conflicting traits simultaneously. As Beni is both sweetly innocent and fiercely determined, Fögi is both destructive and heartbreakingly tender. Whatever cruelty he occasionally shows Beni is just a shadow of what he's doing to himself, and his genuine love for Beni never really falters.
All the supporting performers are good too, particularly Urs Peter Halter as Fögi's sweet, long-suffering bandmate Töbe, who may be in love with Fögi too although it's never said.
But as great as the two lead performances are, what shines most brightly in this movie is the relationship between the two men. It joins the two performances together into something even greater than either is on its own. I realized about halfway through that I was watching one of the greatest love stories ever filmed.
The relationships between Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara in Gone with the Wind, and between Heathcliff and Cathy in Wuthering Heights, take place on a grander scale and over a longer period, but in emotional power they both pale next to this modest little story of Fögi and Beni. Where both those earlier stories are high melodrama, with grand passions on a grand scale, Fögi and Beni are little people living in a little world, a real world, a world that's right here with us right now.
They live in the same mostly dark, mostly petty, mostly messy, but sometimes glorious world all of us live in. We're not all failing rock stars or lovelorn teenagers, but most of us have loved somebody more than we "should" have, most of us have been deeply hurt and humiliated, most of us know what it feels like to hold onto somebody who is pushing us away, and most of us have known at least a few moments of passion so great and so transcendent that it swept us away and made everything worthwhile. That's what this movie is about.
Until today, I was grateful that gay romance in the movies even existed at all. The fact that those romances were mostly not quite believable--and never so powerful that they blew me away--was okay, because it was better than nothing. Just to see two men willing to kiss or touch each other in front of a camera was good enough. Now this movie comes along and blows the doors off that tired old barn.
There do not exist in any movie ever made love scenes like the ones in this movie, as touching, as powerful, as wildly, tenderly, profoundly erotic without ever being pornographic, as the love scenes between Fögi and Beni. No man and woman ever did on screen what these two men do, and I don't mean graphic sex acts. I mean touching each other like they're on fire, kissing like they want to swallow each other, holding each other like they've got hold of the greatest treasure in the universe, joy and pleasure dancing back and forth between them like lightning. It's electrifying, but it's also very tender, very gentle, and exquisitely beautiful.
There's a lot of nudity, a lot of bed sex, and every bit of it is absolutely essential. But the best scene in the movie isn't in bed, isn't even overtly sexual, and both men are fully clothed (the cover pic is from that scene). They're outside, walking together on a hill, enjoying a beautiful afternoon, just sharing their delight in being together. But their joy is drug-enhanced, and you know it can't last (Lou Reed's marvelous song "Heroin" is playing on the soundtrack), but it's lovely while it lasts.
I've never seen anything like this movie, and I never expect to again. I recommend it very, very enthusiastically.
Oh my, what delights! Vincent Branchet as the teen Beni, who is in love with a minor local rock star named Fögi, is perfect in every moment in every scene in this movie. The balance of innocence, shyness, and determination in his very first encounters with Fögi is totally real and totally convincing. His devotion to Fögi through his steady decline is so touching and so true that you believe absolutely that he could not have done anything else. And unlike 99.9% of movie characters, Beni is not a caricature--he's a complex character, a living human being, who changes significantly in response to what happens to him in the course of the movie. Beni goes from wide-eyed, enthusiastic innocence through great joy, great humiliation, cynicism, toughness, maturity, despair, and ultimate survival--and Branchet hits every single note absolutely perfectly. He is never predictable, never artificial, never "acting," and never, ever wrong. I've never seen a better performance by any actor in any movie, ever.
Frédéric Andrau has a less complex role in Fögi, but he carries it off just as expertly. Fögi is somewhat like Lou Reed (one of his idols), but less talented, less pretentious, and much more attractive. Fögi has Reed's nihilism without his survival instincts, and Andrau plays him raw, without any veneer of civility. But, despite the movie's strange title, Fögi is not a bastard, he's not a monster. He's a pure hedonist, he lives for pleasure alone, but he shares his pleasure freely with those around him, especially with Beni. But pleasure alone is not enough to make a life, and so Fögi's life runs out early.
What's most remarkable in both lead actors is their ability to embody conflicting traits simultaneously. As Beni is both sweetly innocent and fiercely determined, Fögi is both destructive and heartbreakingly tender. Whatever cruelty he occasionally shows Beni is just a shadow of what he's doing to himself, and his genuine love for Beni never really falters.
All the supporting performers are good too, particularly Urs Peter Halter as Fögi's sweet, long-suffering bandmate Töbe, who may be in love with Fögi too although it's never said.
But as great as the two lead performances are, what shines most brightly in this movie is the relationship between the two men. It joins the two performances together into something even greater than either is on its own. I realized about halfway through that I was watching one of the greatest love stories ever filmed.
The relationships between Rhett Butler and Scarlett O'Hara in Gone with the Wind, and between Heathcliff and Cathy in Wuthering Heights, take place on a grander scale and over a longer period, but in emotional power they both pale next to this modest little story of Fögi and Beni. Where both those earlier stories are high melodrama, with grand passions on a grand scale, Fögi and Beni are little people living in a little world, a real world, a world that's right here with us right now.
They live in the same mostly dark, mostly petty, mostly messy, but sometimes glorious world all of us live in. We're not all failing rock stars or lovelorn teenagers, but most of us have loved somebody more than we "should" have, most of us have been deeply hurt and humiliated, most of us know what it feels like to hold onto somebody who is pushing us away, and most of us have known at least a few moments of passion so great and so transcendent that it swept us away and made everything worthwhile. That's what this movie is about.
Until today, I was grateful that gay romance in the movies even existed at all. The fact that those romances were mostly not quite believable--and never so powerful that they blew me away--was okay, because it was better than nothing. Just to see two men willing to kiss or touch each other in front of a camera was good enough. Now this movie comes along and blows the doors off that tired old barn.
There do not exist in any movie ever made love scenes like the ones in this movie, as touching, as powerful, as wildly, tenderly, profoundly erotic without ever being pornographic, as the love scenes between Fögi and Beni. No man and woman ever did on screen what these two men do, and I don't mean graphic sex acts. I mean touching each other like they're on fire, kissing like they want to swallow each other, holding each other like they've got hold of the greatest treasure in the universe, joy and pleasure dancing back and forth between them like lightning. It's electrifying, but it's also very tender, very gentle, and exquisitely beautiful.
There's a lot of nudity, a lot of bed sex, and every bit of it is absolutely essential. But the best scene in the movie isn't in bed, isn't even overtly sexual, and both men are fully clothed (the cover pic is from that scene). They're outside, walking together on a hill, enjoying a beautiful afternoon, just sharing their delight in being together. But their joy is drug-enhanced, and you know it can't last (Lou Reed's marvelous song "Heroin" is playing on the soundtrack), but it's lovely while it lasts.
I've never seen anything like this movie, and I never expect to again. I recommend it very, very enthusiastically.