Plot: Aims to be "Gay Pygmalion". Doesn't even manage "My Fair Mary".
A New York "arty" gay film about a hustler rescued by a controlling client, this film actually turned out to be Emotion Porn.
This film is designed for bitter New York queens lurching between White Parties. It's purely about very pretty men who open up and share with each other in the most chaste way.
Within minutes of the hustler being hired, he's telling his client, "You're decent - you're a breath of fresh air."
The client, we learn, really admires the hustler's honesty and truthful nature.
Soon, everyone in the film is "connecting" and discussing whether things are "going too fast", or if "wires are crossed", or worse, saying "I don't know what to say, Mike"... at length.
The hustler complains that he's not felt able to emotionally level with a guy in over a year (despite, no doubt physically flattening hundreds of them), and is only hustling to pay for his green card wedding ("oh, honey," his beard says, "if I'd known, I wouldn't let you go through with it.").
On, and on they share, in a drivelling spew of meaningless mush. The audience (snippy gays of Shepherd's Bush) became increasingly more restless. Soon we were sniggering.
There was one moment when we all cheered happily. The hustler gets back and starts to share with his boss the lessons of the day. "Oh, just take your clothes off," the client replies. "I've not got time for your honesty."
PS: Worst music and sound since the last time I tried to watch porn. And the supposedly rich client had faux leopard print sheets.