Amnesiac with minimal personal memory shows up in Montreal, with just knowledge of being gay, a name James Brighton and a chit of paper with a town name and a phone number, which doesn't check out. Months pass. At times I felt I was watching paint drying and just yearned, oh how I yearned, for him to hurry up and recover his memory. But the intrigue continued as a new identity for him showed up - where had these folk been all these months, why hadn't they reported him missing, were they themselves for real? It was all a puzzle. Common sense told me the guy had suffered some mental trauma, obviously not a rape to himself as even stupid doctors would pick that up. So what was it? The flashbacks suggested abduction. Exorcism? I watched on. That's the point of this film, it hooks you in and you keep watching.
But in the end the flaw of the film is that the hero is such a blank canvas you ultimately don't really care who he is. Which is a shame, as he is not lacking in some good looks.