Shot like those old Bruce Weber homoerotic prepubescent ads for Calvin Klein and scored with wind chimes, raindrops, and grunts, Cam Archer’s feature about a 13-year-old boy with a crush on a high-school wrestler is willfully inscrutable. Only a few words are spoken throughout, and on the one hand, you want to applaud Archer for making a movie that asks you to feel more than follow; his film is less story than mood music—a sad song about a troubled, needy outsider trying to find his way in (which is to say, into the pants of hunky Rodeo, played by Patrick White with all the passion of a model staring into a hand mirror). The best scenes are those between Logan and his pal Joey, an outer-space-obsessed nerdling who makes lists of ways to be cool (“mohawk, designer shades, subscribe to Vice“) that are genuine, funny, sad. But the film as a whole keeps its distance.
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on February 20, 2007