Love his films or hate them, even detractors must grant that director David Decoteau certainly has a unique niche that he fills and is prolific in doing it. Cranking out low budget horror/sci-fi epics with a gay twist, Decoteau has pretty much fashioned himself into the Roger Corman of the genre. And given that Decoteau has exploited pretty much all of the popular targets, it was only a matter of time before The Invisible Man received his attention.
Which brings us to The Invisible Chronicles, which focuses on shy closet case Griffin, who is the target of bullying and a brutal assault by the standard group of unrepentant jocks. When he discovers the secret of invisibility, he naturally uses it to get revenge on those who have tormented him.
Decoteau takes a liberal dose of The Invisible Man and combines it with a shot of Carrie. There are not really any surprises here, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. A director could approach the invisibility theme in one of several ways: 1) dead serious, 2) comically, 3) as a low brow guilty pleasure, or 4) some combination of the above. Anyone familiar with Decoteau will know that his aim will be towards low brow guilty pleasure in a bit of serious vein. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that approach. There can never be enough gay-centric guilty pleasures and it would certainly be a pleasant change of pace to see the old nutshell of the invisible man invading women's privacy turned on its ear with a bit of a gender switch. Unfortunately, Decoteau's film fails on all counts. Decoteau seems to want to give us a low brow prurient guilty pleasure, but he pulls all of his punches, which is a problem with the majority of his films.
On the plus side is that despite the silly subject matter of much of his work, Decoteau is not an untalented director. His films actually look quite good and this one is no exception. The technical aspects are definitely a cut above the usual low budget experience and he populates his cast with almost deliriously gorgeous guys, a number of whom can actually act. Trevor Duke as Griffin is actually pretty solid as well as being easy on the eyes.
What is unfortunate is that despite setting his anchor firmly in gay exploitation territory, Decoteau does not have the courage of his convictions and the viewing experience is often more frustrating than fulfilling. The motto seems to be lots of titillation with no delivery. No one expects anything hardcore from these films, but Decoteau's almost pathological desire to feature no male nudity in his films from the last 15 years or so no matter how appropriate it would be is often laughable and self-defeating. When Griffin's invisibility starts, Decoteau has the money-saving notion that the viewer can see Griffin, but the victims on screen cannot. This is a novel approach that actually works fairly well in that the actors do a convincing job of pretending Griffin is not actually there. Alas, it also showcases Decoteau's foolish timidity. Because Griffin's clothes are not invisible, Griffin must go around nude. This opens up various promising sequences with the naked Griffin stalking and spying on guys in various states of undress – he joins at least two of them in the shower at two different points. Yet Decoteau films every scene like his Grandmother is in the audience. Griffin is always filmed only from the waist up. At one point, Griffin is stalking a guy in a swimming pool and it is obvious that the "invisible" man is wearing black swim trunks (were there no flesh colored available that day?). The voyeuristic shower sequences are also filmed only from the waist up. Decoteau does not need to incorporate full frontal nudity, but his stance that he is making an R-rated film of this type and is almost psychotically fearful of including even PG or PG-13 style nudity is more than a little south of ludicrous. Truthfully, contrasting the safe timid entries that cater to Decoteau's personal fetish of seeing handsome dudes in their boxer briefs (but heaven forbid any nudity) that he has been cranking out for the last 15 years with some of his earlier work like the bold Leather Jacket Love Story or even some of the terrific exploitation romps like Naked Instinct or Petticoat Planet, that he was directing under his nom de plume Ellen Cabot, is more than a tad disheartening. Is there no way for him to reach a middle ground? Would it really be so horrible for him to titillate and deliver?
Which brings us to The Invisible Chronicles, which focuses on shy closet case Griffin, who is the target of bullying and a brutal assault by the standard group of unrepentant jocks. When he discovers the secret of invisibility, he naturally uses it to get revenge on those who have tormented him.
Decoteau takes a liberal dose of The Invisible Man and combines it with a shot of Carrie. There are not really any surprises here, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. A director could approach the invisibility theme in one of several ways: 1) dead serious, 2) comically, 3) as a low brow guilty pleasure, or 4) some combination of the above. Anyone familiar with Decoteau will know that his aim will be towards low brow guilty pleasure in a bit of serious vein. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that approach. There can never be enough gay-centric guilty pleasures and it would certainly be a pleasant change of pace to see the old nutshell of the invisible man invading women's privacy turned on its ear with a bit of a gender switch. Unfortunately, Decoteau's film fails on all counts. Decoteau seems to want to give us a low brow prurient guilty pleasure, but he pulls all of his punches, which is a problem with the majority of his films.
On the plus side is that despite the silly subject matter of much of his work, Decoteau is not an untalented director. His films actually look quite good and this one is no exception. The technical aspects are definitely a cut above the usual low budget experience and he populates his cast with almost deliriously gorgeous guys, a number of whom can actually act. Trevor Duke as Griffin is actually pretty solid as well as being easy on the eyes.
What is unfortunate is that despite setting his anchor firmly in gay exploitation territory, Decoteau does not have the courage of his convictions and the viewing experience is often more frustrating than fulfilling. The motto seems to be lots of titillation with no delivery. No one expects anything hardcore from these films, but Decoteau's almost pathological desire to feature no male nudity in his films from the last 15 years or so no matter how appropriate it would be is often laughable and self-defeating. When Griffin's invisibility starts, Decoteau has the money-saving notion that the viewer can see Griffin, but the victims on screen cannot. This is a novel approach that actually works fairly well in that the actors do a convincing job of pretending Griffin is not actually there. Alas, it also showcases Decoteau's foolish timidity. Because Griffin's clothes are not invisible, Griffin must go around nude. This opens up various promising sequences with the naked Griffin stalking and spying on guys in various states of undress – he joins at least two of them in the shower at two different points. Yet Decoteau films every scene like his Grandmother is in the audience. Griffin is always filmed only from the waist up. At one point, Griffin is stalking a guy in a swimming pool and it is obvious that the "invisible" man is wearing black swim trunks (were there no flesh colored available that day?). The voyeuristic shower sequences are also filmed only from the waist up. Decoteau does not need to incorporate full frontal nudity, but his stance that he is making an R-rated film of this type and is almost psychotically fearful of including even PG or PG-13 style nudity is more than a little south of ludicrous. Truthfully, contrasting the safe timid entries that cater to Decoteau's personal fetish of seeing handsome dudes in their boxer briefs (but heaven forbid any nudity) that he has been cranking out for the last 15 years with some of his earlier work like the bold Leather Jacket Love Story or even some of the terrific exploitation romps like Naked Instinct or Petticoat Planet, that he was directing under his nom de plume Ellen Cabot, is more than a tad disheartening. Is there no way for him to reach a middle ground? Would it really be so horrible for him to titillate and deliver?