The mood — reflective and melancholic — is set with the sparse piano on the soundtrack that introduces shirtless Sam, portrayed by Elliot Page, scanning the world outside his window in a concrete corner of Toronto.
Page bares his own top-surgery scars in the scene, lending a personal, physical dimension to Sam’s story, which Page co-conceived with writer-director Dominic Savage. The filmmaker doesn’t deviate much from the brooding mood, but rather just tightens and loosens the tension that accompanies all the dread.
Sam is stressed in anticipation of returning to his hometown, and family, for the first time in four years. He hasn’t seen anyone from home since he transitioned. Choosing his dad’s big birthday weekend get-together as the venue for his homecoming-out might backfire, warns Sam’s friend and housemate Emily (Sook-Yin Lee).
But, dread be damned, away he goes by train from Toronto to leafy, small-town Culver. His first awkward encounter with someone from home — Katherine (Hillary Baack), a friend from high school, now a married mom whom he spots on the train — doesn’t bode well. Still, the brief reunion does supply enough detail to signal that Kat and Sam were previously closer than just friends, and it leaves both with questions lingering heavily on their minds.
Everyone in Sam’s family has something weighing heavily on their mind, it seems, though not everyone spills, or snaps, at the same time. Savage brightens the mood somewhat for Sam’s surprising welcome home scene, where he gently reconnects with mom Miriam (Wendy Crewson), dad Jim (Peter Outerbridge), and his siblings and their partners.
The scene bears hints of the domestic warmth Sam craves, and that the film could use more of to add dimension to its shades of gray. Outside of stray bits of snark from Sam, the film forgoes humor for angst almost completely.
So, the awkwardness persists, and Page, being the expressively interior actor he is, finds within that many affecting colors to play, as tension escalates with each heart-to-heart between Sam and his respective family members. Each one asks all the same catch-up questions — about his job, his happiness, his love life — posed with varying degrees of concern or pity.
The poignant notes of long-delayed homecomings, and polite welcomes that hide old resentments, ring true. So do the uncomfortable conversations with Dad, who’s eager to talk about Sam’s past depression, older sis Kate (Janet Porter), who harbors all sorts of other doubts, and Mom, who’s supportive with intention, yet still hung up on losing her “little girl.”
The film carefully, and too patly, hits every trending concern family might have about their adult trans loved one living alone in the big city. Some in the family seem to wonder if happiness could even be possible for a person like Sam. And one family member steps far over the line, going from awkward and passive aggressive to openly hostile.
The ensuing climax feels like the movie reaching its inevitable destination, but, despite a sense of contrivance, the acting holds up. Crewson and Outerbridge are particularly good as loving parents processing a host of difficult emotions at once, and Page thoroughly embodies the fulfillment Sam has found in his life, as well as the compassion he’s seeking.
Unfortunately, neither Page nor Baack lend much tension or suspense to the will-they-or-won’t-they between Sam and Katherine. Baack certainly conveys that Katherine sees and appreciates Sam for who he is now and has always been. For someone like Sam, who says he just wants to feel seen, that’s a victory worth the train ride home.
There are worse places in the world to be stranded than a cozy New England beach town, even if the summer season’s over and autumn’s chill is just around the corner. But despite the painted sunsets, and having the sandy shores of picturesque Provincetown, Massachusetts practically all to himself, lonely Brazilian visitor Lourenço (Marco Pigossi), the hero of queer indie High Tide, feels trapped in this sunny paradise.
First of all, he’s heartbroken, since Joe, the lover who brought him to P-town, abruptly left and ghosted him. Lourenço still has a place to stay, in a converted shed in the backyard of homeowner Scott (Bill Irwin), an old friend of Joe’s. But he has no money, and no prospects for gainful employment because he’s in the country on a tourist visa that soon expires.
Donald Trump signed an executive order rescinding a Biden administration policy that allows transgender individuals to serve openly in the U.S. military.
The order paves the way for Trump to revive the ban on transgender service members he instituted during his first term as president.
The reversal of Biden's 2021 executive order was included in a list of various reforms and policies adopted by the Biden administration covering topics ranging from immigration and energy policy to health care and workplace safety. Trump claimed these needed to be rescinded to "repair our institutions and our economy."
At what point does a concept become a movie? I don't mean in the literal sense -- "when it has a director and a cast and a production budget" -- but on a more abstract, mysterious level.
Anyone can come up with a neat movie pitch: What if a shark attacked people in a resort town? What if a kid could see dead people? But there's an ineffable quality that a filmmaker must summon to make a concept actually pop on the screen, with characters and visuals and ideas working in tandem to transport the viewer somewhere else.
This question occurred to me while watching Love Me, which resembles a cute concept in search of a movie. Imaginative and tedious in equal measure, the sci-fi romance unfolds over a span of billions of years yet feels puzzlingly small -- like a 20-minute short stretched to fill a 92-minute runtime.
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