me gusta verles sin camisetas...09 junio 2019
me gusta verles sin camisetas...09 junio 2019
Es una joya underground. Es una pena que el cine LGTB no explore nuevos discursos y acabé dando casi siempre las mismas ideas05 junio 2019
Creo que os equivocais al pensar que el contexto del film es de los años 90 aunque se estrenó en el 1992. Me parece más ochentera al haber tantas referencias a bandas como Echo and the bunnymen, the smiths incluso a bandas como Joy Division (finales de los 70). Además que el boom del SIDA empezó en los 80. Aunque también podría ser la entrada a los 90.03 junio 2019
Loca y triste.07 abril 2019
Para nostálgicos noventeros. Entetenidilla sin más. Eso sí, sólo por la estética merece la pena.04 abril 2019
Imprescindible para entender la visión del mundo de principios de los 90.03 abril 2019
La he visto en plan nostalgia indie-noventera y la verdad es que ha envejecido muy mal. En el fondo se trata de una película sobre una relación tóxica. En la parte positiva, es un buen documento de una época donde aún había creadores a los que la corrección política no les hacía autocensurarse.14 agosto 2018
Final heavy10 junio 2018
muy buena, ta re loco el ken12 octubre 2017
M han gustado mucho los protagonistas aunque uno de ellos está demasiado loco pero la peli es entretenida28 marzo 2017
Tan absurda que me encanta.23 julio 2015 (Editado)
Es una película antigua y para los pocos medios que utiliza no está mal. Recuerda al Almodóvar de Pepi, Lucí, Bom... El formato no es apiadado. Pero es fresca .23 julio 2015 (Editado)
"Hollywood's gutless fear of AIDS movies makes this savagely funny, sexy and grieving cry from the heart of writer, director, cinematographer and editor Gregg Araki even more rending. Jon (Craig Gilmore), an L.A. writer, hits the road with Luke (Mike Dytri), a brutal drifter. They are both fiercely attracted and HIV positive. Araki gives his hypnotic film a raw intensity heightened by a surreal landscape and a jagged score from the likes of Braindead Sound Machine, KMFDM and Coil. Only Jon's calls to his worried friend Darcy (Darcy Marta) remind us of reality. The pair's traveling fuck-fest is marked by humor, rage, desperation and, finally, true romantic longing. In the harrowing, piercingly acted final scene, Luke's violence gives way to understanding. But the anger persists. Araki's fitting dedication embraces "the hundreds of thousands who've died and the hundreds of thousands more who will die because of a big white house full of Republican Fuckheads.""
"Mr. Araki gets a lot of mileage out of the cultural climate from which Jon, a film critic, has emerged. "You know what they say: those that can't do, teach; and those that can't teach get 25 cents a word to rip other people's work to shreds," he explains when Luke visits his apartment, which is filled with carefully selected movie posters. It's also said that one of the film's characters is so oversensitive he suffered a lengthy depression when Echo and the Bunnymen broke up. The film easily shifts between these sorts of dry asides (many of them shared by Jon and a woman named Darcy, his close friend) and observations of a more solemn kind. "The generation before us had all the fun," says one of the film's handsome, 20-ish heroes. "And we get to pick up the tab." The ragged humor of "The Living End" wears thinner as the characters discuss sex, death and the afterlife, and begin to come face to face with their fate. Mr. Araki, for all his playfulness, fully grasps his heroes' situation, and he does not presume to invent an easy escape. Rudely funny as it is about most things, "The Living End" doesn't trivialize AIDS in any way. What it does instead is give vibrant, angry substance to the phrase "till death do us part." The Living End Written, directed, photographed and edited by Gregg Araki; music by Cole Coonce; produced by Marcus Hu and Jon Gerrans. "
"Needless to say, "The Living End" is not for just everyone, not even lesbians, who are depicted as foul-mouthed, green-eyed man killers (Mary Woronov and Johanna Went). After narrowly escaping death at their hands, Luke, now armed with their gun, runs into a quartet of gay-bashers and shoots them dead. Jon, who is passing the scene, rescues the blood-splattered Luke and takes him home, where they make love but not before Jon tells the other man that he has just learned he's carrying the AIDS virus. "Welcome to the club, partner," whispers Luke in one of the film's few touching human moments. Jon, a conventional sort, is infatuated by the rebellious Luke, a Valley Guy who says "dude" a lot and drinks bourbon from a Ninja Turtles water bottle. When Luke kills a cop off-screen, he persuades Jon to run away with him to the quasi-surrealistic wasteland. They swear, urinate, drink and pleasure one another in various fashions -- none of them exactly explicit. Jon's only contact with the life he left behind is a woman friend (Darcy Marta) whom he phones collect from time to time. The relationship between the leading men begins to disintegrate as Luke becomes increasingly obsessed with suicide. Their lovemaking becomes a reflection of this awful circumstance, just as their conversations become flirtations with death. Luke's anger turns inward finally, and he attempts to destroy himself and debase the only man he ever loved. His rage is understandable; too bad the movie isn't. Crudely made and in your face, "The Living End" is mostly annoying. "