Weber attempts to immortalise small-town, high-school jock Peter Johnson in a series of homoerotic images.
Acclaimed for Broken Noses and awarded an Oscar for Let's Get Lost, photographer Bruce Weber returns to film for the first time in over a decade, only to offer a meandering examination of obsession, in which he attempts to immortalise small-town, high-school jock Peter Johnson in a series of homoerotic images.
The style is pure scrapbook, as film clips, home movies, video interviews, adverts, photographs, captions and printed matter are used to acknowledge Weber's debts to various celebrity shutterbugs and showbiz icons. But instead of focusing on the likes of Robert Mitchum or Vogue editor Diana Vreeland, Weber's gaze falls incessantly on the handsome but utterly uninteresting Johnson. His voiceover expounds bon mots and anecdotes that lack wit and resonance, while speaking volumes about their narrator's coy ego.
The images are as beautiful as you'd expect, but the film's priorities are misfocused.