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Queer horror film chokes on surrealist pretensions in ‘The One You Feed’

Amateurish feel prevents story from realizing its potential

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The One You Feed, gay news, Washington Blade
Rebecca Fraiser, Gareth Koorzen, and Drew Harwood in ‘The One You Feed.’ (Photo courtesy Koorzen)

According to actor/producer Gareth Koorzen, half of the two-man team responsible for “The One You Feed,“ the concept for the movie came to him in a dream.

That advance knowledge might help when you sit down to watch this new, queer-skewed thriller, because without it, you’re likely to be very confused.

Set in an unforgiving wilderness, it follows a young man (played by Koorzen) who wakes up in an isolated farmhouse after being mauled by a mysterious animal during a desert camping trip. He is in the care of a woman (Rebecca Fraiser) in an old-fashioned pioneer dress, who has cleaned and bandaged his wounds but offers no information about where they are or how he got there; her muscular, long-haired buck of a husband (director Drew Harwood, the film’s other creative partner) is a mostly silent figure who tends the chickens that seem to serve as the couple’s only source of sustenance. As the stranger recovers, he becomes part of an unpredictable, sexually charged household dynamic that alternates between tenderness and abuse; gradually, he realizes that this enigmatic couple are both his rescuers and his captors, yet his impulse to escape is tempered by a growing attraction he feels to the husband, in whom he senses both a kindred spirit and a dim recognition of something from his own disjointed memories.

Even that brief synopsis is enough to tell you that “The One You Feed” draws inspiration from that certain genre of horror film centered around mysterious, possibly murderous hicks in a remote rural setting – the kind of movie that found its zenith in “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” and spawned decades worth of similarly themed gorefests from there. But what becomes clear only upon watching are the roots that can be traced – albeit through a few tangles – to a range of cinema artists from Jean Cocteau to David Lynch. Esoteric and illogical (or rather, following a hidden logic of its own), the film as conceived by Koorzen and Harwood evokes not only a dreamlike reality, but plays like a surrealist morality play, a kind of parable about things so primal that they – like the characters themselves – don’t even have a name.

Fortunately, the filmmakers themselves have answered at least a few of the questions that arise from their ominous opus, which is now available on Amazon and other VOD platforms. For instance, we know there’s romance underneath all the backcountry creepiness. As Koorzen further explains in the film’s publicity material, “We wanted to tell this love story between two men in a dreamlike manner.”

“We really wanted to make an LGBTQ film that expanded our current understanding of sexuality,” adds Harwood, who besides directing also wrote the screenplay with his co-star. “We want to help normalize sexuality and sexual orientation and remove labels… We wanted to display sexuality and sexual expression in its simplest form and for that to be beautiful. I really feel like we succeeded.”

In fact, there is a kind of beauty to “The One You Feed.” Harwood brings a studied sensibility to his work behind the camera, displaying a knack for the visually striking in his choice of framing and angles; even more effective is the filtered, golden sheen of Samuel Ott’s cinematography, which goes a long way toward capturing the hallucinatory aesthetic required to render the impression of a lucid dream.

In terms of depicting the beauty of human sexuality, however, any claim of success would have to be described as subjective, at best. For one thing, the depictions of actual sex that occur – and they do, in both opposite-sex and same-sex pairings – are so intertwined with domination, punishment, and hostility that they will likely feel to most viewers like problematic expressions of a fetish. On top of that, though the film features many scenes of bare skin being caressed, washed, stroked, and otherwise sensually explored, each of these are so coupled with a tangible sense of non-consensually invasive transgression – along with more than a dash of body horror – that they become about as un-sexy as naked flesh can be.

The problem goes deeper than that, though. In building their ambitiously archetypal saga, Koorzen and Harwood have pushed so far into the realm of the unconscious that their film becomes not only opaque, but obtuse. Their messaging about sex and sexuality is jumbled together with observations about the struggle for power in personal relationships, the conflation of roles between oppressor and protector, the animalistic impulses that can blur the thin line between sex and violence, the projection of our own desires and fears onto the world and the people around us, and any number of other weighty, wide-open topics that could (and have) provide fodder, each to themselves, for a thousand other movies.

The result comes across mostly as a confounding muddle. While the deliberate vagueness of circumstance effectively serves the movie’s disorienting tone, it leaves the audience so distracted by trying to make sense of the situation in front of their eyes that they have little attention left for contemplating any of the deeper subjects being explored within it. It’s a problem that can’t be fixed by the simple suspension of disbelief necessary to avoid questioning the plot holes in similar horror movies; the questions we are forced to ask ourselves in this movie go far beyond watching a masked killer catch up to his fleeing victims even when he never moves faster than a shamble – they have to do with basic information that the characters not only never seek for themselves, but don’t even seem interested in finding out.

Part of this has to do with the aforementioned surrealism that goes hand in hand with the movie’s dream-ish milieu. While at times “The One You Feed” might spark comparisons to the work of playwrights like Beckett and Pinter, whose characters often interact within a timeless setting and behave according to inexplicable motivations, it never approaches (or even seems to acknowledge) the absurdity inherent in its action – something that, arguably, almost defines the work of those pioneering artists. Likewise, while it seems imbedded with symbolism that is keyed to deeply personal associations from its creators – much like the work of David Lynch – those symbols are at once too ordinary and too oblique to make us care.

All of that could have been alleviated, perhaps, by a cast capable of finding truth within the conceits and translating them to the screen in a form that at least resonates with real human emotion. The performances we get instead are little more than adequate, perhaps the most obvious manifestation of the amateurish feel that keeps the movie from ever realizing its hypothetical potential.

Does that mean “The One You Feed” isn’t an interesting piece of filmmaking? Not necessarily. There is much to fascinate in this leisurely paced (but mercifully short) art film/horror hybrid, and curious fans of the genre may well find themselves engaged in spite of its shortfalls.

On the other hand, they might be better entertained re-watching “The Hills Have Eyes.”

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‘Pee-wee’ spills the tea in outstanding new documentary

Reubens’s sexuality emerges as the show’s focus

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The late Paul Reubens created the nerdy, manic cultural phenomenon and children’s show host ‘Pee-wee Herman.’ (Photo courtesy HBO)

Most of us who have lived long enough to get nostalgic for our formative years have, by now, watched enough documentaries about a beloved entertainment icon from our past to know what to expect when a new one comes along.

Such offerings are typically slick biographical portraits blending archival material with newly filmed “talking head” reminiscences and commentaries, and perhaps punctuated by eye-catching animations or other flourishes to add an extra layer of visual interest; heavy on the nostalgia and mostly reverent in tone, they satisfy us with pleasant memories, supplement our knowledge with behind-the-history insights and revelations, and leave us – ideally – with a renewed appreciation and a reinforced feeling of comfortable familiarity. Many of them are little more than retrospectives, more glossy tribute than in-depth profile; occasionally, a few go beyond the surface to give us a deeper sense of personal connection with their subject – but rarely enough, even in the best of them, to make us feel as if we know them well.

No matter how many of these docs you have seen, however, or jaded your expectations may be when you approach it, “Pee-wee as Himself” is still going to surprise you.

Directed by filmmaker Matt Wolf, the two-part HBO docuseries – which premiered May 23 and is now streaming on Max – is built around material culled from 40 hours of interview footage with the late Paul Reubens (the creator and performer behind nerdy, manic cultural phenomenon and children’s show host “Pee-wee Herman,” for anyone that needs to be told), and conducts a “guided tour” of Reubens’ singular career in the limelight. The first installment traces a path from his Florida childhood through his early adventures as an actor and performance artist in Los Angeles to his rapid rise to fame through the popularity of his carefully crafted alter-ego; part two continues the story to explore the expansion of his fame through the phenomenon of “Pee-wee’s Playhouse,” but soon shifts gears to cover his sudden fall from grace after a notorious “public indecency” arrest in an adult theater, and the subsequent accusations of collecting “child pornography” that unfairly branded him as a pedophile in the public eye — and comes full circle to document his return to favor as an underdog hero for the generation that had grown up watching him. 

Besides its detailed chronicle of these already-well-known chapters in Reubens’ life, however, Wolf’s doc (and Reubens, via frequent full-frame close-up commentary throughout) delves into publicly uncharted territory to give us a look at something we’ve never been allowed to see before: Paul Reubens himself.

That includes, of course, removing any ambiguity that might remain about the sexuality of the man behind the bow tie, who never publicly identified as gay before his death from cancer in 2023. It’s not so much a “coming out” — after all, he artfully teased his queerness to fans for years — as it is a dropping of pretense. There’s no need for a definitive statement announcing something that everybody already knew, anyway.

That’s not to say he skirts the issue as he delivers his full-frame close-up testimonial to the camera; on the contrary, he reflects often and with bittersweet candor about the carefully-managed matter of his sexuality – or the public’s perception of it, at any rate – with the matter-of-fact eloquence of someone who’s spent a lot of time thinking about it. He openly discusses his choice to keep the closet door closed on his personal life in order to preserve Pee-wee’s ambiguously wholesome yet irresistibly subversive persona in the public’s imagination, and to abandon his openly queer life (as well as a loving long term relationship, one of the series’ biggest “reveals”) to do so.”I was as out as you could be,” he reflects with rueful irony, “and then I went back in.”

Indeed, it’s Reubens’s sexuality that ultimately emerges as the show’s core focus — even more than the rich treasure trove of personal photos, home movies, behind-the-scenes footage, and all the other fan-thrilling delights it provides — and gives it a larger significance, perhaps than even the man himself. It’s a thread that runs through his story, impacting his choices and the trajectory of his career, and reflecting the familiar shared experience of many audience members who may be able to relate; later, it manifests on a societal level, as Wolf and his subject explore the homophobic attitudes behind the legal persecution that would bring his rising star into a tailspin and hang over his reputation for the rest of his life. It serves as both a reminder of the power of cultural bigotry to repress queerness and a cautionary tale about the personal cost of repressing oneself.

A good number of Reubens’ longtime friends (like Cassandra Petersen, aka “Elvira, Mistress of the Dark,” “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” costar David Arquette, and former “girlfriend” Debi Mazar, who provided support, acceptance, and companionship in the wake of his legal troubles), come along for the ride, offering their own reminiscences and insights into official record, as well as lesser-known members of an inner circle that comprised the late artist’s chosen family. Yet all these testimonials, authentic as they may be, are not what enable “Pee-wee as Himself” to bring us closer to the real Paul Reubens. It’s Reubens himself who does that.

Maintaining an ambiguously hostile edge in his interviews, bringing to light a clash for control between himself and director Wolf with as much clarity as he illuminates the vast archival material that is shown to document his career, he demonstrates firsthand the need to manage his own narrative, balking, even openly resisting, certain questions and interpretations that arise throughout. It gives the real Reubens the same vague menace with which Pee-wee was also infused — and also creates a sort of meta-narrative, in which the conflict between subject and director must also be resolved before the story can truly achieve closure, calling into question whether Reubens (a veteran of avant-garde theater and lifelong fan of the circus) might not be adding yet another layer of mystery and performance to his image even as he gets honest publicly for the very first time.

That closure eventually comes in the form of a voice recording made by Reubens the day before his death — after a six year battle with lung cancer (he was a heavy smoker, another personal detail he painstakingly hid from the public) which, save for those in his innermost circle, he never revealed until the end — in which he delivers a final message to the world. With it, he finally accomplishes what he never could during his life, and lets us see, at last, who he was when he wasn’t being Pee-wee.

And it’s a beautiful thing.

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Gay director on revealing the authentic Pee-wee Herman

New HBO doc positions Reubens as ‘groundbreaking’ performance artist

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The HBO Original two-part documentary ‘PEE-WEE AS HIMSELF,’ directed by Matt Wolf), debuts Friday, May 23 (8 p.m.-11:20 p.m. ET/PT) with both parts airing back-to-back on HBO and will be available to stream on Max. (Photo courtesy of Warner Bros.)

In the new HBO two-part documentary, “Pee-wee as Himself,” director Matt Wolf gives viewers a never-before-seen look into the personal life of Paul Reubens, the comedic actor behind the much loved television persona, Pee-wee Herman. 

Filmed before Reubens passed away in 2023 from cancer, Wolf and his creative team created the riveting documentary, interspersing several interviews, more than 1,000 hours of archival footage, and tens of thousands of personal photos.

Determined to set the record straight about what really happened, Reubens discussed his diverse influences, growing up in the circus town of Sarasota, Fla., and his avant-garde theater training at the California Institute of the Arts. 

Ruebens joined the Groundlings improv group, where he created the charismatic Pee-wee Herman. He played the quirky character during the Saturday morning show, “Pee-wee’s Playhouse,” and in numerous movies, like “Pee-wee’s Big Adventure” and “Big Top Pee-wee.” He also brought Pee-wee to Broadway, with “The Pee-wee Herman Show.”

To get an enigma such as Reubens to open up was no easy task for Wolf.

“I felt determined to get Paul to open up and to be his authentic self,” acknowledged Wolf at a recent press conference. “And I was being tested and I wanted to meet my match in a way so I didn’t feel frustrated or exhausted, I felt determined but I also, it was thrilling to go this deep. I’ve never been able, or I don’t know if I ever will, go this deep with another human being to interview them in an intimate way for over 40 hours.”

Wolf described the collaborative interview experience as a dream, “like we were in a bubble where time didn’t matter.” he also felt a deep connection to the material, having come of age watching “Pee-wee’s Playhouse.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to put words to it at the time, but I think it was my first encounter with art that I felt emotionally involved in,” noted Wolf.

“He continued: “I recognize that that show created a space for a certain kind of radical acceptance where creativity thrives. And as a gay filmmaker, I also recognize things like Pee-wee Herman marrying a bowl of fruit salad at a slumber party or dancing in high heels to the song, ‘Fever.’ That stuff spoke to me. So that was my connection to it.”

During the documentary, Reubens comes out as a gay man.

“Paul went into this process wanting to come out,” said Wolf. “That was a decision he had made. He was aware that I was a gay filmmaker and had made portraits of other gay artists. That was the work of mine he was attracted to, as I understood. And I wanted, as a younger person, to support him in that process, but he also was intensely sensitive that the film would overly emphasize that; or, focused entirely from the lens of sexuality when looking at his story.”

Their complicated dynamic had an aspect of “push and pull” between them. 

“I think that generational difference was both a source of connection and affinity and tension. And I do think that the level to which Paul discusses his relationships and intimacy and vulnerability and the poignant decision he made to go back into the closet. I do have to believe to some extent he shared that because of our connection.”   

Wolf hopes that the “Pee-wee as Himself” positions Reubens as one of the most “groundbreaking” performance artists of his generation who in a singular way broke through into mainstream pop culture.

“I know he transformed me. He transformed how I see the world and where I went as a creative person. And it’s so clear that I am not alone in that feeling. For me, it was fairly abstract. I couldn’t necessarily put words to it. I think people who grew up on Pee-wee or were big fans of Pee-wee, seeing the film, I hope, will help them tap into intangible and specific ways how transformative his work was for them. It really is a gift to revisit early seminal experiences you had and to see how they reverberate in you.” 

He added: “So, to me, this isn’t so much about saying Paul Reubens is a genius. I mean, that’s overly idealizing and I don’t like hero worship. It’s more about understanding why many of us have connected to his work and understanding where he lives within a legacy of performance art, television, and also, broader pop culture.”

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‘Things Like This’ embraces formula and plus-size visibility

Enjoyable queer romcom challenges conventions of the genre

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Max Talisman and Joey Pollari star in 'Things Like That.' (Image courtesy of MPX Releasing/Big Picture Collective)

There’s a strange feeling of irony about a spring movie season stacked with queer romcoms – a genre that has felt conspicuously absent on the big screen since the disappointing reception met by the much-hyped “Bros” in 2022 – at a time when pushback against LGBTQ visibility is stronger than it’s been for 40 years.

Sure, part of the reason is the extended timeline required for filmmaking, which tells us, logically, that the numerous queer love stories hitting theaters this year – including the latest, the Manhattan-set indie “Things Like This,” which opened in limited theaters last weekend – began production long before the rapid cultural shift that has taken place in America since a certain convicted fraudster’s return to the White House. 

That does not, however, make them any less welcome; on the contrary, they’re a refreshing assertion of queer existence that serves to counter-balance the hateful, politicized rhetoric that continues to bombard our community every day. In fact, the word “refreshing” is an apt description of “Things Like This,” which not only celebrates the validity – and joy – of queer love but does so in a story that disregards “Hollywood” convention in favor of a more authentic form of inclusion than we’re ever likely to see in a mainstream film

Written, starring, and directed by Max Talisman and set against the vibrant backdrop of New York City, it’s the story of two gay men named Zack – Zack #1 (Talisman) is a plus-sized hopeful fantasy author with a plus-sized personality and a promising-but-unpublished first novel, and Zack #2 (Joey Pollari) an aspiring talent agent dead-ended as an assistant to his exploitative “queen-bee” boss (Cara Buono) – who meet at an event and are immediately attracted to each other. Though Zack #2 is resigned to his unsatisfying relationship with longtime partner Eric (Taylor Trensch), he impulsively agrees to a date the following night, beginning an on-again/off-again entanglement that causes both Zacks to re-examine the trajectories of their respective lives – and a lot of other heavy baggage – even as their tentative and unlikely romance feels more and more like the workings of fate.

Like most romcoms, it relies heavily on familiar tropes – adjusted for queerness, of course – and tends to balance its witty banter and starry-eyed sentiment with heart-tugging setbacks and crossed-wire conflicts, just to raise the stakes. The Zacks’ attempts at getting together are a series of “meet-cutes” that could almost be described as fractal, yet each of them seems to go painfully awry – mostly due to the very insecurities and self-doubts which make them perfect for each other. The main obstacle to their couplehood, however, doesn’t spring from these mishaps; it’s their own struggles with self-worth that stand in the way, somehow making theirs more of a quintessentially queer love story than the fact that both of them are men.

All that introspection – relatable as it may be – can be a downer without active energy to stir things up, but fortunately for “Things Like This,” there are the inevitable BFFs and extended circle of friends and family that can help to get the fun back on track. Each Zack has his own support team backing him up, from a feisty “work wife” (Jackie Cruz, “Orange is the New Black”) to a straight best friend (Charlie Tahan, “Ozark”) to a wise and loving grandma (veteran scene-stealer Barbara Barrie, “Breaking Away” and countless vintage TV shows) – that fuels the story throughout, providing the necessary catalysts to prod its two neurotic protagonists into taking action when they can’t quite get there themselves.

To be sure, Talisman’s movie – his feature film debut as a writer and director – doesn’t escape the usual pitfalls of the romcom genre. There’s an overall sense of “wish fulfillment fantasy” that makes some of its biggest moments seem a bit too good to be true, and there are probably two or three complications too many as it approaches its presumed happy ending; in addition, while it helps to drive the inner conflict for Zack #2’s character arc, throwing a homophobic and unsupportive dad (Eric Roberts) into the mix feels a bit tired, though it’s hard to deny that such family relationships continue to create dysfunction for queer people no matter how many times they’re called out in the movies – which means that it’s still necessary, regrettably, to include them in our stories.

And in truth, “calling out” toxic tropes – the ones that reflect society’s negative assumptions and perpetuate them through imitation – is part of Talisman’s agenda in “Things Like This,” which devotes its very first scene to shutting down any objections from “fat shamers” who might decry the movie’s “opposites attract” scenario as unbelievable. Indeed, he has revealed in interviews that he developed the movie for himself because of the scarcity of meaningful roles for plus-sized actors, and his desire to erase such conventional prejudices extends in every direction within his big-hearted final product.

Even so, there’s no chip-on-the-shoulder attitude to sour the movie’s spirit; what helps us get over its sometimes excessive flourishes of idealized positivity is that it’s genuinely funny. The dialogue is loaded with zingers that keep the mood light, and even the tensest scenes are laced with humor, none of which feels forced. For this, kudos go to Talisman’s screenplay, of course, but also to the acting – including his own. He’s eminently likable onscreen, with wisecracks that land every time and an underlying good cheer that makes his appeal even more visible; crucially, his chemistry with Pollari – who also manages to maintain a lightness of being at his core no matter how far his Zack descends into uncertainty – isn’t just convincing; it’s enviable.

Cruz is the movie’s “ace in the hole” MVP as Zack #2’s under-appreciated but fiercely loyal bestie, and Buono’s hilariously icy turn as his “boss from hell” makes for some of the film’s most memorable scenes. Likewise, Tahan, along with Margaret Berkowitz and Danny Chavarriaga, flesh out Zack #1’s friend group with a real sense of camaraderie that should be recognizable to anyone who’s ever been part of an eclectic crew of misfits. Trensch’s comedic “ickiness” as Zack #2’s soon-to-be-ex makes his scenes a standout; and besides bigger-name “ringers” Roberts and Barrie (whose single scene is the emotional climax of the movie), there’s also a spotlight-grabbing turn by Diane Salinger (iconic as Francophile dreamer Simone in “Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure”) as the owner of a queer bar where the Zacks go on one of their dates.

With all that enthusiasm and a momentum driven by a sense of DIY empowerment, it’s hard to be anything but appreciative of “Things Like This,” no matter how much some of us might cringe at its more unbelievable romcom devices. After all, it’s as much a “feel-good” movie as it is a love story, and the fact that we actually do feel good when the final credits role is more than enough to earn it our hearty recommendation.

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