A gorgeous and haunting film that embraces the hedonistic thrills of honest, raw sexuality, North of Vortex's Kerouac-esque narrative and slow, self-assured, inward-looking approach to its subjects makes for a short (it comes in at just under an hour) that is peculiar and a little avant-garde for the sheer sake of it, but one that toys with some pretty grand ideas about sex, insecurity, and the power dynamics of an unconventional relationship. It's powerful stuff, if not a little presentationally shallow at times.
There's a passable short film in here somewhere, hidden deep beneath all the laughable claptrap, but everything from the plot to the characters to the amateurish way in which it is shot feels utterly misjudged. Miranda Richardson and Rory Kinnear try their best to inject some much needed quality into the proceedings but unfortunately even they come up short, and despite mildly admiring how class-conscious it at least seemed to want to be (though even in this respect it fails, totally and utterly), I couldn't help but laugh at how dated a film as tech-centric as iBoy is managed to be.
Up yer game, Netflix
There are few things more awkward in this World than watching the opening credits of Carrie in the presence of your parents. Any teenage boy who has had to endure such a scenario will know just how uncomfortable it is. You just don’t know where to look! Worse still, if you’re in the boat that I was in when I first sat down to watch it, you’ve got the added dilemma of pretending that you’re enjoying it – but…
This film is tough. This film is really, really tough. Ignore for a moment that it deals with child abuse, teenage prostitution, rape and the empty futility of a life wasted, and consider the core message itself: that trauma is unavoidable, that one day we’re all going to suffer some sort of tragedy and that, no matter how we attempt to deal with that tragedy, it will always be there, shaping our lives and dragging us back into the…