In the history of independent queer cinema, films about sex workers or male prostitutes, sometimes called hustlers, have been aplenty. There has certainly been no shortage. From Gus Van Sant's My Own Private Idaho (1991), to Gregg Araki's Mysterious Skin (2004), to Justin Kelly's King Cobra (2016), to the recent British film Sebastian (2024), films about boy prostitutes aren't difficult to find. John Schlesinger's Midnight Cowboy (1969) won the Oscar for Best Picture. In fact, Q. Allan Brocka's Boy Culture (2007) even made a joke about it. In the script of Brocka's film, the protagonist basically says that one can guess that he's a prostitute because he's gay and a movie was made about him. A queer film about a male sex worker is almost cliché.
What perhaps sets this film apart from all the rest is that this one centers on what's called a "camboy." A camboy is a sex worker who uses live-streaming video to broadcast himself to people. It's like pay-per-view, but exclusively on the Internet. It's like doing online porn but the person is solo and performs solo sex acts. Yet, there's at times interactive aspects to it. It's mostly live, full-frontal nudity or live masturbation that people can watch on their computers or mobile devices. The Canadian series Cam Boy (2021) on OUTtv explores the phenomenon better. This film isn't really about understanding camboys. It's about something else.
Kieron Moore (Boots and Vampire Academy) stars as Aaron Eagle, a camboy living in Los Angeles. He's described as a fetish camboy. His fetish might simply be money, but he could also be put in the category of BDSM. He leans more into the Dominant-Submissive portion of BDSM where he's a dominant that demands gay men give him money, as he humiliates them by calling them homophobic slurs or threatening certain forms of violence. Yet, Aaron isn't just a camboy. He's also a prostitute in that he leaves his house to go have sex in-person with a guy for money. He probably doesn't do so often and he isn't cheap. He ventures out in this film for the promise of $50,000 in cash.
Reed Birney (The Blacklist and House of Cards) co-stars as Hank Grant, a former teacher from Bedford, Maine. Now, he works at a grocery store because he served seven years in prison. The reason he was in prison was due to the fact that he's a pedophile. He was convicted after he attempted to rape a 12-year-old student in the bathroom of his middle school. If you've seen queer films about prostitutes like Boy Culture or Boulevard (2015), starring Robin Williams, or Retake (2016), starring Tuc Watkins, then often it's an older guy with a much younger guy.
The age-gap is more acceptable if the younger person is at the age of consent in terms of legal status. Gus Van Sant recently made May December (2023), which was about a teacher who begins an affair with a boy before he was at the age of consent. That film was about how the relationship continued after the boy was old enough. That film questioned if the pedophile at hand had genuine feelings of love for the so-called victim. Van Sant's film didn't necessarily try to imbue much sympathy for the pedophile or argue that the pedophile could be redeemed through some remorse or advice. Arguably, Todd Field's Little Children (2006) attempts to build some sympathy for the pedophile in that narrative, but the book on which Little Children is based still depicts the pedophile as a monster. The book and Field's film are more about how a group of suburban people react to this pedophile. It's more about critiquing suburban culture than redeeming the pedophile. This film, written and directed by Elliot Tuttle, seems to have within it a need to redeem Hank, the pedophile here, or have him be some kind of savior for Aaron.
It's a strange film to come out in the wake of the national headlines about Jeffrey Epstein, and the release of the Epstein files in November, 2025. Epstein was a well-known and powerful pedophile. To have a film that's trying to sympathize or redeem a pedophile in the wake of Epstein feels very bold, if not very awkward in its timing. There was an Oscar-nominated documentary called Deliver Us From Evil (2006) that featured a pedophile and involved listening to him talk about his crimes and affliction. It was in part about understanding the pedophile, but it was making a grander point about how the Catholic Church was complicit in those crimes. I'm not sure what the grander point that Tuttle is making here.
Birney is a Tony Award-winning actor, which helps here because the whole thing feels like a play. It takes place in one location, and it basically features these two guys talking. At times, it feels like a therapy session where Aaron is the patient and Hank is the therapist. Hank appears to be critical of Aaron's career of being a camboy, which he suggests is the result of Aaron being lonely. The film doesn't show us much of Aaron's life outside of his sex work, so there's no way to confirm, but Aaron doesn't deny it. Hank also suggests that Aaron has lost his innocence or some childhood qualities that Hank thinks are better, which coming from a pedophile feels more creepy than insightful. It's okay if Aaron has lost his innocence or some childhood qualities. That's what growing up and maturing are. He also shouldn't be shamed for being a camboy or any sex work, especially after Aaron describes a BDSM experience that seemingly opened him up to being a camboy.
Harry Lighton's Pillion (2026) was a recent film about the BDSM community and a relationship in it. Aaron could be considered as a part of that community and he perhaps shouldn't feel shame about it. There's a bigger conversation about the negative effects of online interactions or online activities and how that is affecting people in a broader way, but this film isn't about that conversation. It's implied that Aaron had a passion or interest in singing as a child that he lost. The film even ends on a note of Aaron singing, but it doesn't feel like this film is about Aaron reigniting a passion for singing. It feels like a fantasy about infantilizing a young man.
Not Rated but contains nudity, explicit sexuality, smoking, and language.
Running Time: 1 hr. and 25 mins.
Available on VOD.
