Hustler White

Bruce LaBruce surfaces somewhere closer to the mainstream with this picaresque LA story. There are no women and, no drugs (and no AIDS-consciousness) in this sideways spin on the rituals of meeting cute. But there is LaBruce himself as visiting writer Jürgen Anger (no relation to Kenneth, as he says repeatedly), who falls for the beatific presence of fugitive hustler Ward, as the two negotiate Santa Monica Boulevard's parade of perversities. It's on the level of mid-'70s John Waters, delighting more in shock value than technical accomplishment (grungy 16mm).