Nighthawks

Undoubtedly worthy, Britain's first major gay movie is nevertheless often excruciatingly dull, and in many ways highly pessimistic. Dealing with a schoolteacher who cruises the discos endlessly but remains in the closet at work - until, that is, a revelatory discussion with his pupils - the film fails through its sluggish pace and awkward amateur performances. Worst of all, however, is that it presents its hero as such a miserable sod; anyone tempted toward his own sex would surely be deterred after watching Robertson's endlessly unsmiling face.