Two Eyes

Through three interconnected story lines we are invited into journeys of love, loss, freedom, discovery and acceptance, all the while treated to some incredible music. Two Eyes is a beautifully scenic movie, but more importantly it is one that teaches us. It teaches us (or hopefully just reminds us) that humans are humans and love is love...We should never forget how important the human connection is.

It can be tricky to weave multiple stories together but it feels like a good job was done in this film. Coming of age when you're finding out who you are is complicated no matter what, even more so when you live in a small town and don't even understand your own sexuality just yet. This film packs a lot into the landscape and it's a sweet and hard at times to witness portrayal of the complexities of the LGBT community. It feels like an important film and I hope it gets the credit it deserves. Though I didn't grow up in Barstow, every person who grows up in a small town can relate. We just can't wait to get out there into the big beautiful world and explore.

The movie has a potential to become a seasonal treasure of the queer cinema, but also left me with an awkward feeling. I am happy that the topic of two-spirit roles among the Native Americans arrived to the feature film screen. But in the broadness of what those roles represented and what meanings it carries for the present - I find it very paradoxical that it appears only as a mere "mention" - the character of Poopahte just "is" there for a moment and indirectly becomes a trigger for the self-reflection of the main character from the oldest timeline. His paintings are then just a "pretty souvenir" decorating the point(s) of the further timelines.

The cowboy story line is in the first-plane view the most attractive part, thanks to the unbearably handsome styling of Benjamin Rigby (Alien:Covenant) and Kiowa Gordon and references to the still popular gay fantasies induced (also) by Brokeback Mountain. With a pleasant/progressive interracial twist. But the story flows somewhat predictably, didactically, artificially nicely or artificially emotionally moving. The second timeline revolves around teenage dream of escaping the small-town reality and meeting amazing creatures on an amazing road-trip. Stolen-moment excitement. It is decorated by the presence of South African singer Nakhane (known from the exotic xhosa gay story Inxeba), who again very charmingly and naturally inhabits his role (quite much himself, I'd say). The third line - the cautious opening up of the suicidal trans-boy to his maternally-caring non-binary therapist - is the most contemporary and acute one, although also the most "by the textbook".

That's the sand grinding between the smiling teeth - the movie presents its meaningful messages and lecture very straightforwardly. Sometimes evoking feeling of watching an educative documentary on gender-related issues for high-school students. The dialogues could not be more simple, direct and purposeful. The script is missing some refinement, naturalness.

On the other hand I appreciate the well made visuals, the intense (though a little kitschy) atmosphere depiction in various spaces of its stories. The beautiful but also hopeless monotony of Montana or Wyoming prairies or social space. I see the film's added value in stepping beyond cheesy masculine gay romance, including the trans and intersex and two-spirit characters and topics. It's all there (positive) alas it's all just there (negative). All the timelines nicely meet, complement, explain themselves - it's a beautifully made "bouquet" - but with a strong aftertaste of being (cleverly) arranged. Good start.

Three storylines in three different eras, each a tale of sexual awakening, brought to a nice denouement at the end.

Writer-director Travis Fine hits all the right notes, presenting his characters with compassion and grace.

This movie moved gradually, unfolding with precision and overlaying the three stories with care. For quite some time, the stories felt disconnected. The pace was also rather slow but the environments and characters carried me along.

From the offset, the three stories fascinated me. The interconnections, initially unknown, reveal themselves slowly and with meaning. And each period has a different energy, which was intriguing.

The earliest, following an artist in search of his muse, is the most contemplative. Dihlon's observations of the landscape imbues the story with a stillness and yearning truly vivid.

The story set in the 1970s has an eagerness that spills out, likely due to the performance of Aleson and her fervor for life. This youthful need to figure oneself out makes this part especially accessible.

In 2020, the story arrives with a sense of mourning. Loss and grief crystalize within every movement of Jalin's emotional shift. When at last the stories weave together, I was left in tears, feeling the weight of these different people from different eras, all wishing for acceptance, a place where they can feel loved.

As a cisgender queer woman I was moved by this story overall. Feeling displaced from one's own life, balancing romantic love with societal expectation, and finding hope in a path one crafts for oneself are all visceral and tangible ruminations.