If I were able to look at Dallas Buyers Club on its own, devoid of so so much outside context, I probably would have had an easier time swallowing down its story of the AIDS epidemic filtered through the eyes of an aggressively heterosexual prick who sees the light only from the lowest low place, with a little help from the magical transsexual who has to die (if that is a spoiler then you've never seen a movie) so that he can become the big man with the wheezing heart of gold. Consider it Schindler's AIDS. Matthew McConoughey works very hard, body and soul (mostly body), and is pretty much very good. There's a heart-breaker of a scene late on with Jennifer Garner where his machismo slips and you're just smacked upside the face with this man's desperation for a return to what was, to a semblance of normalcy in a sea of sickness and death.
It's just that though - the film's beating heart sitting over there on a absent sense of what was normalcy, that gives me the willies about the movie though; all the ho ho ain't he something's, the disastrously misplaced cue-the-laughtrack rom-com rumblings dropped in the middle (I love you so much Jennifer Garner, but get the hell out of this movie) like sugar sprinkled on bed sores. Here we are twenty-odd years on from Philadelphia and Hollywood's still shaking in its boots at gay stuff. Yeah sure Ron Woodroff's a real person and some version of all of this really happened - it's just that this is the only story seems anybody will throw any money at to get made. The semi-redemption of this callous motherfucker can only really feel like an affront when there are a million stories of my brothers and sisters rotting in their graves.
Problem is, and problem remained once the credits rolled - I just really don't give a shit about your story anymore, Ron Woodroff. I've had it with your story. The plight of the poor poor man who cannot put his penis in a vagina any more, the movie. And I resent the movie for trying to make me. I mean it's a mostly finely made movie (with a few tonal issues). Perhaps this movie is just for somebody else. That's fine. Somebody who needed to think to themselves, oh gosh AIDS sure sucked, didn't it? Even for a poontang-addicted asshole like me! Well ship this movie to Bumfucke and leave me be - I don't wanna know those people, and I don't want to sit beside them and hold their hands through this difficult time of theirs. Fuck their difficult times.