Anglade, the young man, mesmerizing in this as was Mezzogiorno. After awhile you could not take your eyes off of Anglade. He exuded sexuality and became desireous to Mezzogiorno's character.

Proves you don't need to spend the whole day in the gym and take multivitamins and Lord knows what else to be so attractive and sexy at the same time to defy words. Also, Anglade in this defined brooding, still waters and smouldering desire all at the same time.

The scenes between the the 2 were electric to me. Even at the fateful end.

Hard to believe this gem of a film got passed over for so many years.

Not what I expected. So glad I watched it.

I'm afraid my attention was drawn to less important behaviors of the main character ... or maybe those behaviors were in some way allegorical or metaphorical in ways that were fraught with meaning and meant to divert my attention.

I remember hundreds of years ago when I was in high school we would analyze selected books that fell under the august label "literature," such as A Tale of Two Cities or The Scarlet Letter and, according to accepted wisdom & our teacher, every little thing was significant and laden with meaning. Candle wax dripping on a table, a fraying rope, a facial blemish ... everything merited hours of analysis. I wondered then, and still do, if maybe at least some of the time candle wax, old rope and acne were just that and nothing more. Unfortunately the French seem to revel in bludgeoning everyone with the insistent significance of the apparently insignificant. Crafting subtlety with a sledge hammer seldom produces an attractive result and is quite often counterproductive, although it does tend to attract the praise of gushing self-styled intellectuals.

At any rate, in the midst of all the passion, I became increasingly alarmed by the lead character's apparent disdain for bathing. At one point he even goes into the bathroom, splashes a bit of water about so that his mother with hear it, and then pulls the bath plug without ever even disrobing or wiping a face cloth over bits & pieces of his person. That, coupled with the way he frequently balled up clothing, tossed it about and even dragged it across dirty floors, began to become something of an obsessed focus for me, made all the worse when he swapped his clothes for something worn by the older man and spent much of the rest of the movie in an exceeding dirty tee shirt & jacket. I suppose all of this was carefully crafted for effect, but at times the trivial & subtle become heavy-handed & pointlessly obvious.

He also spent a great deal of time rushing, running from one place to another only to stop and look about ... left, right, left, right. It reminded me of the exaggerated affectations employed by actors in the days of silent films or a less than graceful imitation of a ballet dancer.

I enjoyed the film, although "enjoyed" is undoubtedly the wrong word, just as "appreciated" or "understood" would be wrong. It's hardly your typical "coming out" or rites of passage tale. The more I think about it and attempt to write about it, the more I feel more comfortable in saying it was a moving portrayal of the turmoil a young man experiences as he simultaneously wants to escape from his drab, "normal," and socially acceptable family life while feeling disturbed and offended by the alternative world to which his emotions are driving him.

Certainly not a particularly uplifting film for someone facing such unresolved turmoil in his own life, but probably an unwarranted confirmation of the costs of this "life choice" for anyone who believes being queer is an optional, perverted life style. (Yes... I use the expression "life choice" facetiously. Who would intentionally choose this nightmare for himself?)

Made in the 1980's and presented at the Cannes Film Festival in 1983 this superb film directed by Patrice Chereau and written by him and the writer Herve Guibert has never been given a certificate in the UK ( banned ? I have no idea ) and to my knowledge was shown once at the National Film Theatre during a gay season of films. To my knowledge it sank without trace after that and was brought out in the US in a copy that seemed like a copy of a copy and that I found unwatchable. I saw it when it originally came out in Paris and now I have it on a DVD from France in perfect condition. All this detail to ask simply why this great film, comparable to ' Sauvage ' has not been released and respected in our English speaking countries ? Most of Chereau's other films have, and Herve Guibert's work is not unknown in English. Is it because it was considered too savage and to my knowledge even the gay orthodoxy put it to one side ? I believe that the film should have been applauded for the brutality shown in male contact, and how a youth cannot understand such horror of sexual exploitation and how he allows himself to be drawn into it. It shows openly the confusion among men who really do not identify as being ' Gay ' and hang around train stations looking for sexuality. I hope it is not a spoiler that two wounded men are destroyed in an act of crazed love ( l'amour fou ) and it is us as a society that have led to this destruction. Mainstream cinemas showed it in France and I believe it paved the way for that marginal approach to homosexual subject matter that has led to some of the more braver directors of today.