The problem with being a reviewer is that after a while one automatically begins deconstructing the experience of any art, whether it be in a museum or in a hall of popular culture, which is not always the best way to deal with something, particularly if you're dead set on taking a night off. At any rate, I hauled my reclusive self out to a movie house last night to see Shelter, a feature from Jonah Markowitz that garnered very positive press at last year's Reeling! (gay and lesbian film festival) in Chicago. Mostly I went because I was in the mood for a nice, uncomplicated "boy meets boy" story.

Just so you know, I did enjoy the film thoroughly, although on leaving the theater I had reservations, quite aside from the fact that it's hardly an uncomplicated story. On reflection (read "deconstruction"), I find my reservations evaporating. So maybe that is a good thing after all.

Before I get to the film itself, one observation: I don't think this movie would have been made five years ago. It could have been, but it wouldn't have been -- we are without doubt in a post-Brokeback world. The reason I say this is because the film is virtually free of stereotypes. More on that later.

Zach (Trevor Wright) is a young man who had dreams of going to Cal Arts (California Institute of the Arts) to study, but gave it up because his family needed him. Instead, he makes do with practicing "street art," working as a short-order cook, and taking care of his young nephew, Cody, while his sister Jeanne (Tina Holmes) works her way through a series of boyfriends between stints at her own dead-end job. Best friend Gabe (Ross Thomas) is off for an extended trip, and while he is away his older brother Shaun (Brad Rowe) comes to town from LA to break a case of writer's block. Shaun taught Zach to surf, Zach's other release from family duties, and they spend time on the waves until one night, as they are hanging out at Shaun's (and Gabe's) house drinking beer, comes the inevitable kiss. Zach's reaction is, to say the least, mixed: he realizes that his feelings for Shaun are genuine and deep, but as might be imagined, the fear arising from the the backblow he expects from his family -- his sister, particularly, reveals herself to be somewhat homophobic -- and his friends, particularly his on-again-off-again girlfriend, Tori (Katie Walder), provide enough conflict to keep him busy.

Back to the stereotypes: there aren't any. This is the second "gay" movie in my experience to be stereotype free (and the first, Brokeback Mountain, relied on subversion of an archetype for at least part of its impact), and I think on that score alone it merits attention. Even Gabe's reaction, with questions like "Did you always know?" and "Do you think he's hot?" about a man passing by on the street, is just Gabe's personality coming out -- he's a clumsy, half-formed guy whose social skills and sensitivity to others, even his best friend, are rudimentary. Jeanne's near-hysterical insistence that Zach keep Cody away from Shaun (Cody adores Shaun) is revealed to stem from ignorance and a sincere concern for her child; although she's not the best mother the world has seen, she does care about her son. As it turns out, she's not the blind homophobe you almost want her to be.

Which leads me to the film's real strength, which is in the characters and their portrayals. I have to admit that leaving the theater I was of two minds about the widespread press accolades for the cast. The more I think about this film, however, the more I realize the subtlety and depth the actors have brought to it. Wright's portrayal of a young man faced with something in himself that scares the hell out of him, his strong desire fighting against his anger and fear, while understated, is touching and beautiful. I'm still finding in memory small bits of scenes, tiny little reactions that flesh out Zach's character in ways that make him even more believable and more appealing than I had first thought. Rowe, as the gay man who knows he's gay and knows this is not a situation in which he can be totally open, plays it honestly and directly as a man who's fallen in love, quite unexpectedly, and who has the intelligence to understand that he's dealing with someone who is terribly vulnerable and confused and the patience and strength to let it develop as it will. (And I can't stress enough that the character Rowe gives us is not a "gay man" but simply a man. This is as much a political decision as anything else, but it also accurately reflects reality.)

Markowitz has done some interesting things with vignettes stacked up in series to mark the passage of time -- brief scenes of Zach and Shaun roughhousing on the beach, making out, and spending time playing with Cory -- as their relationship develops, but I'm not sure it it works as well as it might. Part of it might be that the film is set in southern California, the land of no seasons, so there's not really a strong sense of the passage of time. The visual aspect of the film, the milieu that Markowitz has used to surround the action, brings out a range of subtexts: Zach's family is struggling and they don't live in the best part of town, a fact brought home in the industrial view from his studio on the roof of his house and, in fact, in the subjects and form of his drawings. The contrast with Gabe and Shaun's comfortable circumstances underlines, among other things, the shape of Zach's difficulties in dealing with his situation as well as the promise in freeing himself to take what he really wants andneeds. The film is full of touches like this, and it makes a rich experience.

It's unfortunate that Shelter is scheduled for severely limited theatrical release -- it's the kind of movie that would give anti-gay activists cardiac arrest, simply because it does reflect reality so closely. Besides, the inevitable calls for a boycott would undoubtedly boost the box office. The political message -- and there is absolutely a political message here -- is fairly plain. Aside from the textual subject -- homosexuality as a legitimate orientation deserving of acceptance and understanding -- the role of "family" in this film is ambivalent. In spite of his feelings for his family, it is not the most constructive force in Zach's life, although (I'll permit myself one small spoiler here) the implicit assumption that he and Shaun will form the nucleus of a family themselves is unavoidable, given how it all shakes out at the end. (Zach's late mother was the one who held the family together before her death, and Zach remarks that he got the "family gene." The resonances of that comment are at the very least provocative.)

Shelter is a challenging film in ways that point up the strengths of film as a medium, beautifully conceived and almost flawlessly executed. It's going to be available on cable beginning April 18, 2008; the DVD is scheduled for release in late May. If you have a chance, see it.

Information on Shelter can be found here.