The Night Larry Kramer Kissed Me

This is the worst: a self-indulgent one-man show filmed for all those people wise enough to stay away in the first place. It seems that David Drake had all the usual gay experiences of coming out, of over-indulging, etc., and wants to tell us about it. The script is in some sort of quasi-poetic lingo. In order to create excitement, there are lots of quick camera moves, and drum-like intensifying sound. It gave me a headache, and I had to walk out. It was intolerable. But David Drake was standing at the door (I saw this at a festival and the auteurs were in attendance) and he wouldn't let me leave because the on-screen performance was reaching a crescendo. If I opened the door at that moment, the effect would have been ruined for the enthralled masses. So I waited for the great climactic moment, and walked out. You really don't want to see this movie!

I really wish I could reccomend this film, as I was a big fan of the play in live performance. But sadly, director Tim Kirkman was unable to find the cinematic equivalent of the intimacy of this one-man show. I was all too aware of his jerking camera work throughout the film; it was almost as if he was someone's kid brother trying to call attention to himself...When directing a piece that is focused on an individual; it isn't a good idea to attempt to bring in some flashy camera work. This is unfair to the audience and the actor/author. I wish some one had just done a straightforward documentation on video...Unfortunately; this may be all future generations have as a record of a trailblazing one-man show.

David is a gifted writer and an extraordinarily talented actor, and the only reason this film didn't have quite the 'kick in the chest' impact of the original play is that we've all somehow accepted the losses which were so widespread and personally, currently painfully in the early 90's. By bringing back into focus that pain and those times, this work of art has morphed from a 'kick in the chest' to a 'kick in the ass,' as we still have work to do, but it has once again done so in a way that converts pain to pride, and loss to courage to move forward.

This movie, a filmed one-man show about nothing less than the last thirty years in gay history, blatantly rips off the visual style of Spalding Gray's far superior (though completely unrelated) Swimming to Cambodia.

The script, though not without depth, could have used more originality, but performer David Drake makes up for that with his passion, creating a few scenes of emotional heft.

Highlights: an amusingly on-target gay bar scene, and a surprisingly stirring leap into the future at the end.

I'm glad I saw it, but I wouldn't go out of my way to recommend it.

This is a 1999 video recording of David Drake's one-man 1992 stage play about his first several years as a gay man, in Baltimore and later in New York.

There's nothing inherently wrong with filming a stage play. However, THIS play should not have been filmed. Its only possible value is to David Drake himself, as a document of his obviously heart-felt but tiresome work.

No one else besides Drake and his close friends could enjoy watching his grotesquely magnified face filling the screen, mugging and reciting in a stilted, wholly unnatural manic monotone infinitely repetitious histrionics that have a rhythm like poetry but none of its beauty or power.

He sounds like he's giving some sort of manic, post-modern recitation of the Iliad, but what comes out is self-obsessed drivel, filled with mindless rap-like repetitions of meaningless phrases.

Drake obviously is fascinated by himself and by his own life, but I'm not. The "kiss" from Larry Kramer, by the way, is metaphorical - proving that at least Kramer had sense enough to avoid this flaming narcissist.