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