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About Just out. (Portland, OR) 1983-2013 | View Entire Issue (May 6, 2005)
way legend Elaine Stritch) makes up for the predictable plot. B —JR No Skin Off My Ass In the early 1990s, while the New Queer Cinema was busy trying to sell fags ’n’ dykes to mainstream audiences, Canadian Bruce LaBmce was happily preaching to the queer choir. 1991’s No Skin Off My Ass wasn’t his first film—it followed a handful of Super 8 shorts—but it was the one that got him atten tion and fixed his image as a talented trash- meister willing to mix it up with social satire, homo camp and hardcore sex. This low-rent remake of Robert Altman’s That Cold Day in the Park is a typical LaBrucian effort, with the usual pleasures and pitfalls. LaBruce, who wrote, directed and photo graphed, also stars here as a hairdresser who obsesses over skinheads. Luckily, right near his apartment he finds a handsome specimen, sit ting silently on a park bench. Before you can say wash and set, LaBruce has lured “Skinhead Guy," as he’s known, into his apartment. There he gives the bald beauty a bath (using Mr. Bub ble), after which he locks his new pal in a bed room. Of course, this being a Bruce LaBruce movie, Skinhead Guy quickly escapes for a visit to his sister, a lesbian activist filmmaker and graffiti artist. But s<x>n LaBruce and Skin head are reunited for more edgy fun. Shot in extra-grainy Super 8 and blown up to 16mm, and mostly lacking synch sound (LaBruce’s voice-overs occupy much of the soundtrack), No Skin Off My Ass has the look and feel of a low-rent pom flick, with LaBmce’s love object the ultimate wish-fulfillment fanta sy—a mindless stud who lets LaBmce take every imaginable liberty with him, from kx)t- licking to urinal caressing to straightforward “have lots and lots of babies,” so she mns away blow jobs. And like much pom, this one has from home and into a world of pédophilie stretches of dullness that will send some view truck drivers and psychotically cheerful pro- ers wishing it was video so they could fast- forward. As gor geous as Skin head Guy is, the camera’s endless slow crawl over his fetching flesh as he bathes, lounges and lusts becomes numb ing after a while. Still, LaBruce gets points for daring to bare all, and doing it with humor. A zany sound track that includes such ill- matched talents as Karen Car penter, The Sub Jane plays it again in Monster-in-Law with Wanda Sykes. humans and Tiny Tim adds to the foolish fun. Screens lifers. Solondz’s camera stares down both bour 7 p.m. May 10 at Guild Theatre as part of the geois liberals (depicted as sheltered, self- Northwest Film Center’s Global Super 8 absorbed and hypocritical) and conservative Anniversary Celebration B+ hicks (well-intentioned and murderous), creat —Gary Morris ing a didactic, horrifying and strangely compas sionate contemplation of the banality of evil in Bush-era America. B+ —Christopher McQuain Writer/director Txld Solondz (Happiness) concocts a twisted fairy-tale journey into red- state America. A middle-class 13-year-old (rep resented by various actors, including Jennifer Ex-punk rocker Richard Jobson (of The | Skids) wrote the novel on which he based this Jason Leigh) wants nothing from life but to Palindromes 16 Years of Alcohol mostly effective portrait of the effects of demon alcohol. Set in Edinburgh, Scotland, the film follows Frankie (Kevin McKidd) from his dys functional childkxxJ through membership in a violent street gang into a couple of bitter sweet relationships. Vivid, hard-edged scenes like a tea room gay-bashing and a nasty encounter at an art show are balanced by Frankie’s rueful reminiscences (in voice-over). If the script veers into plati tudes tcx> often for comfort, and the “magic realism” fantasy touches sometimes misfire, 16 Years is still a bracing picture of a life careening into chaos. Now playing at Hollywood Theatre. B+ —GM Winter Solstice Like Ordinary People and The Ice Storm, this moving drama paints a damn sad por trait of suburban America. As depicted by writer/director Josh Sternfeld, a flawlessly landscaped New Jersey neighbor hood is just a facade for anger and sorrow. Anthony LaPaglia gives a powerful, understat ed performance as a reserved widower at odds with two fiercely independent sons. Gangly West Wing star Allison Janney plays a new neighbor who brings-some levity to their lives. Solstice is not plot-driven, and there are awk ward pauses in the dialogue. This is the rare film that understands life can’t be summed up in three acts. B+ — sb jrn
