THE VISITOR (Circle Collective)

The Visitor (2024)

Circle Collective / Vinegar Syndrome

By "Doc" Hunter Bush, MovieJawn podcast director, host of the HWGW Podcast

The Visitor comes to Blu-ray from Vinegar Syndrome partner label Circle Collective. Directed by artist and provocateur Bruce Labruce, The Visitor reimagines Pier Paolo Pasolini's Teorema (1968) for a modern landscape. Circle Collective's release boasts a vibrant video and audio package, and a reasonable assortment of bonus features. However, the film's subject matter might make this a tough one to justify purchasing.

The Movie Itself: 4 stars

I've covered auteur director Bruce Labruce before. His film Saint-Narcisse (2020) has some similarities with The Visitor, namely overt sexuality and layers of meaning, but also some differences: The Visitor is much less a narrative feature than it is a work of art. With a narrative that's light on dialogue, heavy on symbolism, and heavier on explicit sexual content, The Visitor also has slogans appearing briefly but unmistakably on screen in bold text, making this feel like the video that would play as part of a larger art installation.

That's neither a compliment nor a criticism, it's just a fact. The Visitor breaks the reality of what little narrative it has--a stranger comes to a wealthy family, seducing them all and upending their previously sedate lives of privilege--to boldly underline its themes as much at the audience as for them. These text-heavy moments all come, no pun intended, during hardcore sex scenes, so my reading was that these slogans were representative of the titular visitor (Bishop Black) passing the seeds of revolution and social change to whomever he was passing his non-symbolic seed to at that moment.

In one of the special features, Bruce LaBruce talks about his views on pornography as art, and for the most part, I get where he's coming from (again, no entendre intended). There are, of course, exceptions to everything, but pornography is a particular art form and regardless, that is the direction Labruce is approaching this film from: blurring the lines between what is considered pornography and what is considered art.

Ultimately The Visitor is a lot. Deliberately provocative and shocking, but never for its own sake, the film asks its audience to consider: What if it was this easy to affect social change? What if emotional intelligence, empathy for others, and a desire for a better world were transmissible through great, satisfying, goopy, alien, sex? Could we actually just fuck our troubles away? I don't know about you, but I'm willing to try.

The Video: 4 stars

Bruce Labruce is a visual artist as much and as aggressively as he is a sociopolitical one. As a result, The Visitor looks incredible. The shot compositions are well-considered and add a certain artificiality to the world of the film that actually helps it. This is a heightened reality to start with, so when the fourth wall is, well not broken exactly, more like graffitied upon, it doesn't throw you as much as it might otherwise.

The colors are equally as impactful. The establishing shot of the family's home is overlayed with four quadrants of bold colors: brown, yellow, red, and white. Red and yellow especially are used to grab and hold your attention throughout, sometimes in costuming or lighting, sometimes as the aforementioned text.

I should mention that there's quite a bit of strobing, especially where the text on screen is concerned, so if you're particularly sensitive to such things, you'll want to avoid this release.

The Audio: 4 stars

The Visitor is actually pretty light on dialogue (relatedly, I don't believe there was an option for subtitles? unless I entirely missed it) and the dialogue that is present sounds like it was recorded on set. I'm not sure if this is purely a cost-saving measure, a nod to the production of pornography, or maybe some combination of the two? Regardless, the audio, while clear, mostly serves the score.

That score, by Hannah Holland, is fittingly unique. In addition to thumping EDM-style beats, what I would describe as "sci-fi video game sounds" come and go, adding a Halloween spooky-house vibe to the events that are weirdly appropriate. The Visitor, while explicit, and bluntly addressing the issues Labruce has in his sights, is also made with tongue firmly planted in cheek (I will not be making any jokes about that phrasing at this time). Art, especially in Labruce's hands, is more than just one thing. One need not be entirely serious to be taken seriously. All of this, even telling truth to power, can--and should--be fun.

The Supplements: 4 stars

I'm not sure what most people look for in bonus features, but what I'm most often looking for is context, and the features on this release give it in droves. Porn is Political is Labruce discussing his view on pornography as it relates to art. Samm Deighan's video essay goes into greater detail on some of these points, including the influence and inspiration of Pier Paolo Pasolini's Teorema (1968). Both are fascinating, especially seeing how directly some scenes in The Visitor echo Pasolini's earlier film.

The essay by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas also gives some very specifically British context for the film, citing the origins of some of the anti-immigrant soundbites that compose the opening sequence of The Visitor, which was much appreciated. If recent events are anything to go by, being able to provide receipts for the awful things said by almost anyone given even a modicum of power is incredibly useful so that we all know the character of those we're talking about. The essay also provides numerous other cinematic parallels--perhaps intentional, perhaps not--scattered throughout the film.

• Porn is Political - introduction by Bruce Labruce (10:09) (HD)
• The Sexual Revolution of the Proletariat from Pasolini to Bruce Labruce - video essay by Samm Deighan (14:22) (HD/SD)
• Behind the Scenes featurette (34:44) (HD/SD)
• X-rated trailer (2:00) (HD)
• Theatrical trailer (2:00) (HD)
• Stills gallery
• Booklet with essay by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas

There is a slipcover edition, which may still be available, featuring appropriately attention-grabbing imagery from Adam Maida:

Final Thoughts: Recommended

I hadn't even experienced the works of Bruce Labruce before this year, but now--with just two of over a dozen features under my belt--I've become something of a fan. I like the messaging in Labruce's films, I like the abundance of style with which they're made, I like the sense of humor in them and how it balances the sensuality and sexuality.

Certainly, The Visitor is a much more niche film; more confrontational, more unflinching, than something like Saint-Narcisse--which, don't get me wrong, is still not for everyone--but it is no less well-made, no less enjoyable. I wholeheartedly recommend The Visitor for most audiences, but fully acknowledge that some, perhaps a large percentage, will likely write it off instead of engaging with it.

THE DISH & THE SPOON (Music Box Selects)

The Dish & the Spoon (2011)
Music Box Selects / Vinegar Syndrome

by "Doc" Hunter Bush, MovieJawn podcast director, host of the HWGW Podcast

The Dish & the Spoon comes to Blu-ray from Vinegar Syndrome partner label Music Box Selects. Written and directed by Allison Bagnall, this film is an honest and chaotic look at a woman in the middle of great distress. Anchored by quietly dynamite performances from Greta Gerwig and Olly Alexander. Music Box Selects' release offers some slight additional materials, but the movie is the real prize here.

The Movie Itself: 4 stars

Rose (Greta Gerwig) is in, as they say, a bad state. When the film opens, she's crying and driving; never the best situation to be in. Turns out her husband has had an affair with a local dancer / yoga instructor and Rose found out and took off in a flurry of hurt and anger. She's obviously at a low point: she doesn't quite have enough money for all six donuts and all six beers from the convenience store, so she leaves one bottle on the counter amidst fistfuls of loose change, the clerk takes pity on her and lets her go. Her next stop, a lighthouse overlooking the sea (as they generally do), is where she finds her counterpart for this picture, the spoon to her dish: Olly Alexander as an unnamed boy.

The Dish & the Spoon is an almost hypnotic doomed-romance story with a decided New England flavor to it. As the emotionally lost Rose drinks away her feelings, occasionally attempting to incite violence against the other woman, she finds the Boy to be, maybe not so much a kindred spirit as a safe harbor. He, for his part, is affable and nearly as lost as she is, but for entirely different reasons.

Writer/director Allison Bagnall allows a certain improvisational looseness to the film that only enhances the barely contained chaos of this whirlwind not-quite romance. Amidst a nearly continuously storming Northeastern coastal town, Rose interrogates who she is and what she wants by playing dress-up--sometimes literally--with a gracious, quiet, increasingly lovestruck young man whose name we never learn.

Almost from minute one, I was left quietly reeling. Both Gerwig and Alexander deliver muted performances that are devastating in their raw vulnerability. Every emotion is on display without ever announcing themselves. The film is simultaneously a whirlwind of activity and emotions--the whole thing takes place over just a few days--and a slow burn romance that there's no clean and easy resolution to. The Dish and the Spoon is by no means a flashy film, but it's a subtly stunning one.

The Video: 3 stars

Being set in a seaside beach town in the cold, wet off-season, everything in the film has that northeastern United States cold, wet, washed out cast to it. Outside are bright grey skies over muted golden beaches, the skeletal black branches of nearly bare trees and carpets of brown fallen leaves. The interiors are warm, but occasionally dark, as Rose and the boy navigate her parents' summer house by kerosene lanterns as there is no electricity or heat in the off-season. 

The transfer is fabulous, but like the movie itself, not flashy. The exteriors are never washed out, the interiors, no matter how dramatically lit, are never too obscured to see what's happening. Facial expressions are always readable, no matter how subtle. The whole visual aesthetic projects intimacy in a way that reinforces the film's subject matter perfectly.

The Audio: 3 stars

As with everything thus far, the audio mix isn't showy, but it's well-balanced for how dynamic it is. There's roughly as much screaming as there is whispered dialogue in the beginning of the film and my three-channel soundbar handled it all very well without me having to adjust the volume levels at all. As Rose and the boy develop their little faux domestic routine, and begin to have fun, there is singing, piano music, and non-diegetic songs on the soundtrack that are all handled equally well.

The mixing also makes use of the environments of any given scene to add a real world dynamism to the events. When Rose drives to the other woman's home and stands out in the driveway, shouting, you can hear the distance and the space of the outdoors versus when she and the boy spend an evening asking each other about their lives. The first third of the film, it always seems to be storming outside, and when they're in the summer house, the whistling wind and the rhythm of the rain is occasionally present but never overwhelming. It ends up reinforcing the coziness of the scenes as much as it underlines their friendship as a calm in the eye of Rose's emotional storm.

The Supplements: 3 stars

The additional features aren't amazing, but they were very enlightening. The 2011 South By Southwest interview by Ann Thompson with Gerwig and Alexander underlines the looseness on-set and what they describe as the sense of play they felt in being able to build their characters. This is reinforced by the deleted scenes which aside from being largely aimless silliness--Rose and the boy spitting beer at each other, or spending an afternoon in the woods playing with branches and other natural detritus--it really highlights Allison Bagnall's non-restrictive approach.

Interestingly, Bagnall clearly had some of the movie locked in mentally before production began. The Location Scouting feature is composed of footage filmed during these scouting sessions contrasted with how they appear in the finished film and it's remarkably similar. I feel that her having some firm ideas for how she wanted the film to look, yet being able to allow for improvisation and creativity at the same time to be a really fascinating and admirable quality in a filmmaker.

• Deleted Scene and Outtakes (7:00) (HD)
• SXSW Interview from Ann Thompson, 2011 (20:06) (SD)
• Location Scouting featurette (4:08) (SD/HD)
• "The Whale" performed by Olly Alexander (2:25) (audio only)

There's also a slipcover that I believe is still available, featuring collage-style minimalist art designed by Beth Morris, featuring imagery from the film:

Final Thoughts: Highly Recommended

The Dish and the Spoon comes highly recommended if you're looking for a melancholy time. It's bittersweet, but both the bitter and the sweet are wonderfully realized and performed. This is an independent film in all the ways that I grew up loving: small (both in budget and scale), intimate, honest and never simple. Being a person is hard, complicated work, especially when you add emotions into the mix. With The Dish and the Spoon, Allison Bagnall (as well as Greta Gerwig and Olly Alexander) share something that makes it feel okay to acknowledge that things can be messy, and temporary, but still worthwhile.

"Beast of Burden, Chapter 8: Try Walking a Mile with My Paws"

The following is an excerpt from my forthcoming memoir "BEAST OF BURDEN".
Available from Babylon Zoo Publishing in Q3 2025.

Rin Tin Tin pretends to answer his own fan mail.

Chapter 8 : "TRY WALKING A MILE WITH MY PAWS"

After getting everyone's souls back in the correct bodies I gave up my treasure hunting career, packed up my metaphorical bindle, and headed west to Hollywood to seek my fortune. Not the first, not the last, as I say. Seeking your fortune isn't exactly shooting fish in a barrel, of course. I needed to take the bull by the horns and find work to make ends meet. That's how I ended up behind the bar four nights a week at a dive called The Cat's Pajamas that had a reputation for being "where the real animals went". I thought this meant rowdy crowds and tough customers, and while there were those too, I learned that in this case "real animals" frequently meant real animals.

The Pajamas was an unassuming little place in the shadows of the major studio lots, and, in addition to handfuls of your average oddballs, all the animal actors--anyone who was anyone, as they say--came there to wet their beaks. In the first couple of weeks, I learned the ropes: the good and bad tippers, who gets a tab and who doesn't, but most of all to keep quiet as a mouse about what went on there. It was nothing illegal, mostly, but any gossip could be the straw that broke the camel's back for our clientele's careers.

Orangey the cat--who would go on to some acclaim with my help--spent some of their time as Minerva, their drag persona that performed at clandestine burlesque houses in the area. Morris--the 9Lives cat food spokescat, and not to be confused with Morris the alligator--were in a relationship, but no one could know about it. Rin Tin Tin--German shepherd immigrant turned bonafide movie star--had hired Jimmy the Crow--star of over a hundred films, and actually a raven--to help him respond to his mountains of fan mail, which at first I thought was a kindness, before learning he was working Jimmy like a dog, ironically, and for peanuts. I won't name names, but let's say a little bird told me that Rinty couldn't get his paws to stop shaking long enough to sign correspondence without at least a bottle of schnapps.

But it wasn't all monkey business. The lion's share of regulars were sweethearts. Terry--Toto from The Wizard of Oz--introduced himself to me on my first day to reassure me that any little people who came in and dropped his name could drink on his tab. He'd been paid three times what they were on that picture, knew that wasn't right, and was trying to pay it forward. Frances the Talking Mule did what made him famous: talking. A lot. Told me his whole story; about how he came over from Mexico and took the talkies by storm before being priced out by the competition at rival studios--like Mr. Ed, that scumbag (¹). Regardless, Francis and I became close and he invited me to a poker game with many of the aforementioned patrons and they came to like me too; I laughed easily, lost more than I won, kept the drinks flowing, and kept my mouth shut.

(¹) - My lawyers have advised me that I am to make it abundantly clear that Mr. Ed is only a scumbag in my own humble, personal opinion, and that I do not have, and I quote, "tons of dirt on him, enough to bury him deeper than a groundhog’s graveyard."

My brush with the silver screen came one day when some gopher from Paramount poked his head in saying Blake Edwards needed Orangey back on set for reshoots. Problem was, Orangey was well into their cups for the evening and in no condition to perform. Next thing I knew, I'm on the set of a big Hollywood production, hundreds of gallons of movie magic raining cats and dogs on me, soaking me to my skin. That's right, in the climactic rain scene of Breakfast at Tiffany's, any time Cat isn't in close-up? That's me.

Thus began my career standing-in and stunt-doubling for some of the most famous critters in Hollywood. I was busy as a beaver; very quickly in demand. Union rules limited the hours an animal performer could work in a given day, but as a human, they could work me like a rented mule. The Lone Ranger rode me off a bridge into a river; I pointed to that damnable well Timmy had fallen into; I shared the big screen with Johnny Weissmüller and Rex Harrison; I was riding high on the hog.

It couldn't last however. I blew out my hip which put me on the shelf for 8 months and limited what I was able to do, physically, thereafter. Worse, during my convalescence, Variety did a profile on me called "Beast of Burden" which unfortunately painted me as the leader of the pack for a wave of human actors bent on replacing animals in all films. I returned to The Pajamas as a black sheep. Most of my former poker buddies and more recently co-workers assumed I'd been a snake in the grass the whole time and they turned their backs on me.

I was heartbroken. With the benefit of hindsight, I'm ashamed to admit that instead of addressing the elephant in the room, I tucked my tail between my legs and headed back east like a bat out of Hell. I'll always think of those times, and those people, fondly, but clearly the cows had come home and that chapter of my life was finished.

Hunter is an author of some renown.
Just because you may not reknow who he is doesn't change that.
Facts is facts.

This piece originally ran in the MovieJawn Summer 2025 print zine, under the title Stunt Animal.
It is all 100% true. Like, so true that you don't even need to check. Why waste your time?