Barry Jenkin's' piece on the 21st century male, is about the state of a country's stance on identification.  Identification that isn't bounded by even the ones Jenkins' protagonist was born with. A boy whose bloody grip on the thorns of virility, is made more riveting by the crucial drops of nectar that is love. This is a masterclass on perspective, told with a dizzying camera and ethereal aesthetic. I'll have longer thoughts when I watch it again, but let me just say.