Making a movie about our age’s self(ie)-obsessed culture that riffs on the myth of Narcissus, who fell in love with his own reflection in the water, seems like quite an obvious move.
But only queer Canadian iconoclast Bruce LaBruce (Hustler White, L.A. Zombie) would filter this story through the lens of 1970s cult movies and then throw in Sapphic lovers who have gone off the grid; a young monk who turns out to be a cigarette-smoking, volleyball-averse lookalike of the protagonist; and an abusive gay priest obsessed with Saint Sebastian.
All these things and more —many more —are the ingredients of Saint-Narcisse, the director’s return to more mainstream fiction after 2018’s It is Not the Pornographer That is Perverse..., a jocular tetraptych.
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