INSIDE OUT: METH & THE END OF SECOND CLASS

Meth (3pm, Sat, May 27, Bader) is a rapid-fire talking-heads
documentary about the many faces of crystal meth use and the often
devastating role it has played in the lives of gay men, here an
assortment of white US fags. While each of the dozen or so
interviewees has had very different experiences with the drug,
director Todd Ahlberg cuts so quickly from one fellow to another --
the flick is structured according to theme rather than character --
that a single "typical" narrative emerges from the soundbytes: A
high-paying job; the reemergence of hedonism in a gay world where
AIDS has been normalized; low self-esteem and a desire to be hot
leading to escalating meth use; experiencing an incomparable high but
not eating or sleeping; constant unprotected and increasingly extreme
sex; becoming out of touch with friends, family, interests and
reality; and eventually sleeping in your car or homeless and
imagining that you are infested with lice or that you are under
surveillance (interestingly enough, Britney Spears and Adolf Hitler
are both subjects of paranoid delusions here).

The main protagonist is Andrew, a dealer, user and ex-con in Phoenix
who is caught in that time-honoured bind of wanting to quit but not
being able to. The scene of him high, squeezed on a couch with his
mother as she unknowingly praises his recovery efforts, is extremely
sad, and Ahlberg hits pay-dirt with the look of guilt and shame on
Andrew's face.

Unfortunately, Ahlberg shows disrespect for his ostensible hero by
juxtaposing his dumb-ass ramblings and rationalizations while on meth
with the cynical appraisals of the wiser ex-users, basically using
his self-delusion to illustrate the others at their worst.

The most articulate and revealing of the other interviewees is Mark,
a well-preserved redhead, who reminisces, "I tried to save [shooting
up] for special occasions -- like night."

Ahlberg seems unsure of what to show us when he cuts away from his
interviewees so we get snappy, abstracted graphics and fast-paced
montage sequences that tend to grate.

Nevertheless it's good to see a film that doesn't rely on a single
"expert," only people who have been there, done that, who paint a
picture of addiction and denial.

This is probably why Meth feels like a whirlwind of ideas and
opinions, unable or unwilling to offer any conclusions or solutions,
and perhaps creating a sense of false hope for Jared, the participant
who triumphantly throws his pipe away at film's end. . Meth (3pm,
Sat, May 27, Bader) is a rapid-fire talking-heads documentary about
the many faces of crystal meth use and the often devastating role it
has played in the lives of gay men, here an assortment of white US
fags. While each of the dozen or so interviewees has had very
different experiences with the drug, director Todd Ahlberg cuts so
quickly from one fellow to another -- the flick is structured
according to theme rather than character -- that a single "typical"
narrative emerges from the soundbytes: A high-paying job; the
reemergence of hedonism in a gay world where AIDS has been
normalized; low self-esteem and a desire to be hot leading to
escalating meth use; experiencing an incomparable high but not eating
or sleeping; constant unprotected and increasingly extreme sex;
becoming out of touch with friends, family, interests and reality;
and eventually sleeping in your car or homeless and imagining that
you are infested with lice or that you are under surveillance
(interestingly enough, Britney Spears and Adolf Hitler are both
subjects of paranoid delusions here).

The main protagonist is Andrew, a dealer, user and ex-con in Phoenix
who is caught in that time-honoured bind of wanting to quit but not
being able to. The scene of him high, squeezed on a couch with his
mother as she unknowingly praises his recovery efforts, is extremely
sad, and Ahlberg hits pay-dirt with the look of guilt and shame on
Andrew's face. Unfortunately, Ahlberg shows disrespect for his
ostensible hero by juxtaposing his dumb-ass ramblings and
rationalizations while on meth with the cynical appraisals of the
wiser ex-users, basically using his self-delusion to illustrate the
others at their worst.

The most articulate and revealing of the other interviewees is Mark,
a well-preserved redhead, who reminisces, "I tried to save [shooting
up] for special occasions -- like night."

Ahlberg seems unsure of what to show us when he cuts away from his
interviewees so we get snappy, abstracted graphics and fast-paced
montage sequences that tend to grate.

Nevertheless it's good to see a film that doesn't rely on a single
"expert," only people who have been there, done that, who paint a
picture of addiction and denial. This is probably why Meth feels like
a whirlwind of ideas and opinions, unable or unwilling to offer any
conclusions or solutions, and perhaps creating a sense of false hope
for Jared, the participant who triumphantly throws his pipe away at film's end.

Xtra contributor Shaun Proulx leads a panel discussion on meth use
following the screening.