Exploring the Dark Themes of 'Blue Film'

While movies can certainly serve as excellent forms of entertainment, they can also be used to challenge and upset us, giving us a glimpse into a part of the world that we don’t normally consider and possibly never wanted to. Despite how unpleasant parts of these films can be, when handled correctly they can linger with us, leaving us to ponder thorny questions or reconsider more mundane matters in a new light. Blue Film, the debut feature from writer and director Elliot Tuttle, is one such movie.

Aaron Eagle (Kieron Moore) gets by working as a camboy, displaying his body on screen for hundreds of viewers in exchange for tips. In the laggy, frequently buffering session that opens the movie, after seductively berating his audience, he states that he occasionally meets his fans in real life for even larger sums of money and has one meeting scheduled that night with a client who has offered him $50,000. When he arrives though, the evening goes in a different direction than he was expecting.

Hank Grant (Reed Birney) is waiting for him in a rented house, hiding his face in a knitted ski cap. He sets up a camcorder and begins to film Aaron on the couch, but rather than try to engage physically, he begins peppering him with increasingly personal questions about his life and past. We, along with Aaron, begin to wonder what exactly the much older Hank is actually playing at with his probing and uncomfortable queries until the younger man takes action and removes the mask. When he realizes his client is actually someone from his past he’s stunned. Doubly so as he comes to learn what compelled Hank to hire him in the first place.

These are both deeply damaged people, who have taken wildly differing paths to deal with their traumas and sins. As such, their conversation goes to some very dark and disturbing places. Hank in particular is a contemptible character, but Birney’s portrayal can sometimes make him feel almost sympathetic, leaving the viewer to sometimes feel as disgusted in their own response to him as they do with the man himself. Watching him try to explain his aberrant urges, both to himself and the world, triggers an almost visceral response, even if his need to do so can be understood, and Birney handles this challenging role superbly.

Thirty-year-old Moore is the real revelation here, however. Introduced to us as a paragon of sleazy machismo, as the story goes we gradually see the lost little boy still hidden inside begin to emerge. He longs so intensely for love and acceptance that he’s willing to seek them out in nearly any way possible, even if others would find his actions degrading, and Moore subtly reveals the deep wells of hurt in an award-worthy performance.

Tuttle and his DP Ryan Jackson-Healy know how to frame a shot, strikingly framing and beautifully lighting every moment. Combined with the quality of the performances and the thorny subjects handled by the script—usually, though not always, with a surprising amount of grace—it’s nearly impossible to look away, even if we sometimes wish we would.

Do monsters know they’re monsters? Are they born as monsters or turned into them? Would our attitude towards them change based on the answers? These questions and more are left hovering around us as the movie draws to a close. It’s a lot to take in and it will definitely not appeal to some, or even many, viewers. But this daring, provocative film does reward those who can stomach the subject matter, even if it is unlikely to inspire repeat watches. ★★★★

UNRATED. CONTAINS STRONG SEXUAL CONTENT, BRIEF NUDITY, STRONG LANGUAGE INCLUDING SLURS, DISTURBING THEMATIC MATERIAL, DRUG USE, AND SMOKING.