With the Mardi Gras Film Festival well under way around
here, it’s indie LGBT time again! You know, I’d probably be a lot more enthused
about this if I hadn’t already discussed several rather taxing and emotional
films over the last few days. Given my history with this sub-genre, with films
like Drown, I could already feel the burnout before I even set foot in the
theatre. But it’s like I keep saying around these parts: I welcome the chance
to be proven wrong. Of course, when I usually say that, it’s in the sense that
I don’t like it when my intense pessimism involving certain releases turns out
to be founded: It may be therapeutic to a degree but that I doesn’t mean that I
actually enjoy watching crap movies. This time around, “being proven wrong” turns
out to be accurate in a completely different way. Let’s dive right in and I’ll
explain how.
