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The potentially interesting idea of a seemingly ordinary spy thriller degenerating into a bizarre sexual psycho-spectacle never really challenges the viewer, short of trying to follow a plot which meanders to and from different ideas in a pattern all its own. This ambitious film seeks to confront issues of identity, race, gender and sex as seen through the restrictions of wartime.
The performances are a mixed bag, particularly Lance Baker's wavering performance as Frank. He never quite gets a handle on the rat-a-tat stylized dialogue. The frequent nudity in the film (mostly male) only serves to frustrate, seeming to say, "Hey, I'm making a bizarre experimental film, hence let's throw in a few male members to shake it up." While I've got nothing against male nudity (which is only fair after women's exploitation for nearly thirty years) it seems to have little point here other than to provide an easy visual reference against closeted desire. It's too obvious an attack on Scott King's part. At eighty-four minutes, it's a tight ship. Treasure Island eschews traditional plot structure and character development in favor of a series of repetitions and unusual "dream" sequences (seamlessly blended into the "reality" of Frank and Samuel). Credit should go to the filmmakers for their vivid attempt to go where few filmmakers dare in this age of predictable romantic comedies and Tarantino gangsters - into the psyche of its own characters. If the movie fails, at least it fails nobly and merits as much attention as it can muster. Go To Page: 1 2
The copyright of the article Scott King's Treasure Island - Page 2 in American Indie Cinema is owned by Jeremiah Kipp. Permission to republish Scott King's Treasure Island - Page 2 in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.
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