Written and directed by Elliot Tuttle

Starring Reed Birney and Kieron Moore

This takes a bold path towards challenging us with its deeply uncomfortable material, and it achieves that with quite a nimble hand. What writer-director Elliot Tuttle does to keep things afloat with Reed Birney and Kieron Moore onboard as the starring duo deserves admiration, because this could have easily collapsed into a bucket of sleaze in clumsy hands. But these people are dedicated to navigating territory that pushes us to really consider the substance of this tale from a surprisingly reflective POV. There’s this odd sort of intimacy growing between Aaron and Hank, and it truly shouldn’t exist when we’re treading through such unnerving subject matter… and yet it’s here. It builds a private little bubble for these two to expose the most vulnerable parts of their human cores, with Moore and Birney sharing the kind of chemistry that clicks together so effortlessly. They’re completely down for the task at hand, even while it’s asking a ton of them. One character in particular is the type who should be eliciting only hatred and disgust from me, but there’s enough nuance for quite a few moments in this movie to leave me expressing pity towards him. This human possesses the self-awareness that’s needed to recognize how awful he is, and a big part of him longs to find a road that can help him cleanse himself. It’s why religion gets built up into a major theme for this narrative, focusing on how people can use that aspect of life to hammer home their guilt over any harm they’ve committed and to try to achieve the purification that can let them move forward without their sins hanging over them.

All of this unfolds within a space that isn’t particularly interested in handing down overtly moral condemnations. Yes, it fully recognizes that what we’re covering here is atrocious, and at the same time, it trusts the audience to engage with this story in a smart and open-minded fashion. It relies on us to form a connection with this tale and understand that doing so doesn’t automatically mean we condone what’s happened in it. Ryan Jackson-Healy’s cinematography and Taylor Frontier’s lighting make their own contributions in order to flesh out the softness of this secluded place. As for Zach Clark’s editing, it maintains a smooth pace and keeps this feeling taut throughout the hour-and-a-half lens that we get into Aaron and Hank’s discomfiting microcosm. It’s worth diving into Blue Film for that as long as you’re ready to chew over what it’s summoning up the guts to present to you. I would compare this to The Drama in the sense that they’re both movies where it’s effective to head into them without fully knowing what sort of weighty topics they concentrate on. If this is the kind of daring and agile work that Tuttle is capable of dishing out, then I’m anticipating more of whatever he’s got next.

My final rating: 4 out of 5 stars