The new queer cinema of the 1990s gets reborn courtesy of one of its OGs, Todd Verow. With his micro-budget new thriller, You Can’t Stay Here, co-written by longtime collaborator James Derek Dwyer, that raw, confrontational, punk sensibility feels like a breath of fresh air in our current stale, over-processed cinematic environment. Harkening back to his work on Frisk, which put Verow on the map in 1995, the film plays like a mashup of that title along with Cruising and Blow-Up.
Guillermo Díaz stars as Rick, a photographer, who finds himself drawn to the Ramble, a busy Central Park gay cruising spot circa 1993 in New York City. Rather than engaging in hookups himself, Rick prefers to hide behind his camera taking pictures of the many sexual scenarios on display. Before you can say “Antonioni”, Rick has spotted something nefarious going on in his photos, an ominous guy in a trench coat. On a return visit to the park, Rick witnesses the man known as Adam (Justin Ivan Brown) committing a brutal murder. That he presents as an all-seeing, all-knowing vampire armed with a knife and a lethal bottle of poppers, serves as an apt metaphor for the AIDS crisis decimating the gay community. The dangerous game of cat and mouse between Rick and Adam takes up the bulk of the running time, along with a burgeoning relationship with one of the Ramble regulars named Hale, played sweetly by Becca Blackwell.
While scary and suspenseful, the real heart of the film lies with Rick’s internal struggles. He appears to fear intimacy with the story serving as a journey towards accepting himself. He shares a son with his ex-wife Samantha (a wonderfully grounded Karina Arroyave), who caught him with another man one day in their apartment. He’s also tending to his ailing mother, an excellent Marlene Forte, who doesn’t hold back when spewing homophobic comments directed at her son. His demanding boss Wren, comically played by Vanessa Aspillaga, adds additional stress to his life.
I saw this film as a course correction to Cruising, which only vaguely alluded to Al Pacino’s sexual awakening as he hunted down a gay serial killer. In Verow’s film he addresses similar themes far more explicitly. Bonus points for no dialogue like, “Hips or lips?” Verow, like the late William Friedkin, doesn’t shy away from graphic sexuality but the gay male gaze adds an authenticity Cruising lacked.
Much of the credit for the success of the film goes to Díaz, who delivers a quiet, soulful performance with all of the horrors of the world right there in his empathetic eyes. No stranger to the new queer cinema and low-budget 90s films himself, with appearances in such seminal movies of the era such as Stonewall, Party Girl, I Think I Do, and Nowhere, it’s wonderful to see Díaz embracing his roots. He’s had a string of larger scale appearances in Weeds, Scandal, and Bros, all wonderful, but it’s exciting that he sought out Verow as a collaborator due to his desire to do something with more of an edge. Ryan Murphy has dedicated his career to lifting up queer voices and it’s lovely to see an actor of Diaz’s caliber doing the same. More of that, please!
This film will have its detractors who can’t get past its low budget production values, but in its own scrappy way, this film succeeds. I especially loved its John Carpenter-esque synth score by Greg Sabo which rides a fine line between pulse-pounding and campiness. Same goes for the film itself, which shrewdly personifies the terrors of its era while also possessing a little of that DIY John Waters humor. Add the beauty of a lost soul finding tenderness and you have a film that stands out amongst more forgettable fare.
By Glenn Gaylord, Senior Film Critic
You Can’t Stay Here is available On Demand now.
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