Set in a world before Grindr and and in a neighborhood dozens of subway stops away from the gay utopia that New York City often comes to stand for in our cultural imagination, Hittman’s film was inadvertently offering me a time machine—back to my own late adolescence when, like Frankie, I first discovered digital outlets for my most shameful desires.
The Tomatometer score — based on the opinions of hundreds of film and television critics — is a trusted measurement of critical recommendation for millions of fans.It represents the percentage of professional critic reviews that are positive for a given film or television show.Rob Anderson (Marlon Wayans) is all set to marry the girl of his dreams, but can't quite get to the altar.Every time he comes close, he finds himself waking up naked in his hotel elevator, forced to relive the beginning of his wedding day over and over again. The screen flickers alive and I get a glimpse of a toned torso in a rather dirty mirror. Then another flicker, another pose; and then another and another and another.
The eyes may be obscured by a perfectly placed baseball cap, but their hunger is undeniable.My high-pitched voice and my penchant for loose-hipped movement always gave me away.Nevertheless, I saw myself in him, especially the more I saw him carefully navigate a budding digital world where he could indulge in a cordoned-off vision of queer intimacy.It is through these scattered selfies that I first meet Frankie, a lithe young man all too curious about his uncontrollable desire for other male bodies.Content with his pictures, he soon lights up his computer, turns on his webcam, and signs on to a video chat room called Brooklyn Boys.I’d also been the men Frankie chatted with—some all too eager and hungry for what was under his shirt, others more savvy, knowing his coyness was a screening mechanism that required careful disassembly, and others still whose flagrant exhibitionism didn’t require his engagement. I hadn’t encountered a character quite like Frankie before.