One of those films that makes you wish you still wrote about films.
Never understood the positive reaction to this. Thought that may have been some internalised homophobia at the time but a rewatch didn't dispel my concerns. Shoddy plotting, self-congratulatory (and unconvincing) camp-it-up antics from the cast, and unnecessary racism. The queens against the outback riff off Walkabout et al barely compensates.
I've had a long held fascination with beats. I've never actually participated in their indiscriminate open air loving (not knowingly anyway) but I've spent hours watching from the sidelines. It helps that I live directly across from one, at least I did until the police locked it up. But even if I didn't, these public places where "men who have sex with men" have sex with "men who have sex with men" are pretty common. Therein lies the fascination.
A heads up for you: critical distance is going to be an issue here. As soon as the credits rolled on Xavier Dolan's (controversial) Cannes Grand Prix winning It's Only the End of the World (Juste la fin du monde) the world came crashing down. I had to bolt from the cinema. I left friends in their seats. I wrapped myself in music. I walked streets of Sydney using shaking limbs to re-erect walls to hold the flooding tears at…