Théo & Hugo

French queer filmmakers Olivier Ducastel and Jacques Martineau's seventh feature, Paris 05:59: THÉO & HUGO alludes as much to Agnès Varda's CLEO FROM 5 To 7 in its relation to the real-time plot device, as to Richard Linklater's BEFORE… trilogy, where two individuals are trying to build something intimate and meaningful through small talks in a spontaneously perambulating pace.

But, as a testimonial to the filmmakers true grits, the film takes a bold and sensational initiative to instantaneously put off the prudish and conservative alike, by kicking off the movie with a lurid hardcore sex orgy inside an iridescent bar through the eye of a predator seeking his preys, and then setting its focal point to our two titular protagonists struck by coup de foudre and beginning to consummate their libidinous thrusting in the accompaniment of trippy beats and day-glo lights, but with a consequence, which Ducastel-Martineau duo tactfully explores as the brunt of what happens later that night when they exit together from the bar at 04:47 A.M.

The film does a cracking job in establishing the "sex first, love later" scenario in a post-AIDS 21st century, when carnal impulse receding, the two strangers, both are satisfying with their physical encounter, make tentative steps to know each other from the scratch, and their bonhomie hits a halt when a felix culpa pans out, and the duo must re-connect their rhythm and re-consider their possible future within an approximate one-hour time-line as the film finishes precisely at 06:00.

More often than not, a film hyped by unsimulated sex sequences would suffer from being made light of its less grandstanding elements, for example, Ducastel-Martineau duo's apt punctuation of commentaries concerning those socially marginalized: a hospital devolves the night shift to its distaff employees, homophobia vituperation pelted to the sexuality minority, a Syrian immigrant's perspective on freedom and a senior chambermaid's impromptu babbling (and a resultant blooper for the sharp-eyed), all add a touch of political angel but never overstay their welcome.

The two leads are giving a wholesomely winning and empathetic performance (if it sounds like an understatement after their corporeal sacrifice of leaving nothing to imagination), Geoffrey Couët inhabits a somewhat rustic complexion into Théo's wide-eyed-ness, and François Nambot as Hugo, often takes the lead in their conversation with his youthful urbanity and amiability, a smitten, can-do spirit has no affectation and pretension, which makes the ineffable ending such a boon to be appreciated, not just for their hard-earned chance, but also for Ducastel-Martineau's ingenuity and seeming effortlessness (a keen eye of a nocturnal locus under the unadorned lighting arrangement) of conjuring up something extraordinarily honest, heartfelt and aesthetically arresting out of an ordinary story arc, it is never too soon to signpost this film as the new landmark in today's ever-progressive queer cinema-scape, because the battle hasn't been (completely) won yet.

I've watched this movie two days ago and it's still the only thing I can think about. Since I'm not familiar with director nor writer, I can't compare this masterpiece to their other work, but I refuse to believe you can do any better than this. I enjoyed every second of the controversial 20-minut scene. I think it's far away from pornography, although it's quite explicit, it's a modern age avangarda, artistically and tastefully put together. I love that there is no intruduction to that scene like walking toward the club, we just suddenly find ourselves underground, in the middle of a gay orgy. I've watched so many gay movies and movies in general, and I have never in my life seen something so extraordinary. The only director who can come close to this is Gaspar Noe in his Irreversible when it comes to showing things the way they are, and we have to appreciate their courage. Scene is enchanting, all the redness makes it more erotic and the atmosphere is calming, you can feel their pleasure. Naked male bodies are aesthetically pleasing, genlty wrapping around one another or just standing and enjoying themselves watching the scene in front of them. Pleasure they give to each other gives us pleasure while watching. Those man are regular people with regular jobs, like two of our main caracters, you see them every day, jet at night they are ''making love and contributing to humankind'' to paraphrase Hugo. That's a unique way to describe an orgy, and when you think about it you have to agree. When Hugo and Theo finally got together you are able to feel they are made for eachother. Two complete strangers experiencing catharsis thouching one another, appreciating every part of themselves and the other one. Now everything around stops, camera is directly focused on them and in front of us is a long scene of vulnerability and self-conciousnes, exposure with a mistical scent. I won't write about the rest of the movie, don't want to give any spoilers about what's about to happen, just wanted to share my appreciation for the director and his courage to make such a scene. Truly unforgetable.

In his Variety review, Jay Weissberg gave this movie a passing comparison to Andrew Haigh's "Weekend," which is easily my favorite homo flick, so I had to give this one a go.

I see the similarity: a first-time encounter leads to sometime more, along, of course, with some inevitable bumps in the relationship road.

The premise of having events unfold in 'real' time is an interesting angle, almost a gimmick, that somehow works, despite a few scenes that seem to last forever: eating a twinkie ("cake") at the ER visit; a much-too-forced conversation with a fellow Metro passenger who can't afford to retire, so she commutes to a hotel housekeeping job every day; the first 18 minutes of orgy at a sex club.

The casting is another interesting angle: the leads aren't typical drop-dead-gorgeous hunks: their bodies, their faces, their *ahem* packages aren't classic attention-getters, but they're real enough, handsome enough, and equipped enough to deliver a "real man in Paris" feel. And Paris, too, certainly feels real enough, despite the early-morning setting which makes the city feel almost deserted. And almost safe to be in, public displays of affection and all.

I was surprised at how well this movie worked.

It will never win awards but it wormed its way into my heart and psyche in a way that not many others have.

Good job, co-directors Ducastel and Martineau.

It works.

This is the most mature work to date from Ducastel and Martineau, whose "Ma Vie" and "Cockles and Muscles" had reasonably wide distribution. It won't be to everyone's taste because it begins with a long, explicit sequence shot in a Paris sex club. It soon becomes apparent that the (unsimulated) sex between the two leads (Geoffrey Couet and Francois Nambot) is crucial to the plot. The lovers hope that they may be able to have a relationship; but a dreadful realisation leads to a crisis. Couet and Nambot, who are that rarity, actors who can have sex and portray characters with equal conviction, spend much of the film walking and bicycling through Paris, deserted in the early hours of the morning. These scenes are memorably shot by Manuel Marmier. A lot of viewers are going to want to re-trace their route. Along the way they meet Parisians who may have something to teach them. The final scene is beautifully written and will stay with you. All the performances are exemplary. Although the film has links with classic French cinema, notably "Cleo From 5 to 7", it is also a film of our time. It could easily become a seminal gay drama that will take its place with "Victim", "Cruising" and "Taxi zum Klo". Many other films have tried and failed to achieve the results the directors have achieved seemingly without effort.

Hugo (the handsome François Nambot) and Théo (Geoffrey Couët, who has a little of Dirk Bogarde around the eyes) meet, in a highly-explicit fashion, in a French sex club. After they put their clothes back on and head into the Paris night, their conversation about how their sexual encounter had a deeper meaning than would normally, given where it took place, be expected, indicates the start of romance. But that nascent love affair comes under strain when the confession of a mistake by one of the young men prompts a revelation from the other.

Leaving aside a few supporting characters (and plenty of non-speaking though extremely active extras in the club scene), this is pretty much a two-hander film and as such needs good central performances. Both men are competent; although there are times when his delivery is a little wooden, Couët believably handles Théo's sudden mood swings, although I can't help wondering how Nambot, who seems the more accomplished actor, would have played them. Paris by night - even the grottier parts of it in which much of this is set - looks full of character and provides a good backdrop to the young lovers' meandering conversations.

And that opening scene? Well, call me shallow, call me a hypocrite, but I prefer my nudity non-saggy, so it is a relief when the camera focuses on Nambot and Couët - although not hunks, they're definitely better-toned than many of the sex club's patrons! (But personally, if I was going to be filmed completely nude except for my shoes and socks, I'd wear nicer socks.)