Pornography: a thriller

The gay genre is such a feverishly exploited sector of the indie film market that it's impossible to see all those that might be worth seeing, even if anyone would want to. Many of the genre's current rash of first-time writer-directors presumably gained production funding and/or distribution on account of the novelty value of their concept. Philadelphian David Kittredge probably did. With two short gay films to his credit (Fairy Tale in 1998, Target Audience in 2002), he made his debut feature in 2009, with Pornography: A Thriller.

Its starting point is the disappearance of a gay porn star. Fourteen years later, two separate investigations are being conducted coincidentally, by a curious non-fiction writer and a gay porn actor planning to direct his debut film based on the actor's life and supposed death.

The "real" story takes half-an-hour and ends mysteriously, with the apparent snuff-film killing of the retired porn star. He may have killed his agent, who'd introduced him to big money and an unseen menacing client. Another half-hour tells the tale of the gay porn researcher and his lover, who've rented a flat at a price that's too good to be true. It seems to be the setting for a snuff film, whose existence is suggested by evidence enigmatically revealed and B&W photos mailed anonymously to the writer. This time, an unexplained death possibly arrives for the writer's video-storekeeping friend.

In the last segment of the 110-minute movie, the wannabe gay porn actor director's script for the lost actor's final days seems to write itself. It also transforms the lives of the director and his actors and crew.

The potentially intriguing but non-dramatically convoluted storyboard is made even messier by self-conscious attempts at indie-style experimentalism, with non-linear progression, single-colour lighting effects and fleeting cuts to mock clues, all probably reflecting the director's wish to emulate the alienating artistry of David Lynch. Further confusion results from the employment of some actors in two roles in different segments.

Most irritating are red herrings such as a signet ring always obtained from nowhere explained and worn meaningfully by each segment's lead actor, its design matching that of a gay porn club and film production company whose ownership is unknown, like that of the writer's apartment.

The movie's conclusion, echoing earlier dialogue, has the modern-day porn actor stripping in front of a camera, telling his supposed unseen controller (probably symbolising the movie's audience) that's what it really wanted to see. Some audience members may have applauded that non-revelatory final scene: after almost two hours of non-total exposure, they get to see a bit of soft-core full-frontal male nudity.

The lead actors and some supporting cast members sport major credits in gay TV series and the hard-porn adult film industry, as the US porn industry likes to call itself. All of them are more than competent in dead-pan roles that don't provide characterisations or dialogue requiring acting stretches. The director shows promise, and can be faintly praised too for boldly going where no gay genre writer-director has been before.