Worth: $14.50
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Various
Intro:
…persistently empathetic…
Breaking out from his editorial role in the latest incarnation of Queer Eye, Terrence Crawford’s directorial debut is a look at a drug problem in the heart of America. No, not the opioid crisis, but the prevalence of methamphetamine addiction within the gay community of New York City, a place so densely-populated that it’s a regular touching point for cinema as a microcosm for the entire country. Beyond just being informative, the way that it depicts its subject matter is remarkably nimble, knowing how much disinformation continues to cling to this subset and this form of addiction.
Crystal City follows the traditional drug movie formula, its pacing can be measured as the high, the come-down, and maybe the road to recovery for the more optimistic. Here, the high is shown as the community’s cultural vulnerability and how crystal meth itself served as ‘a back-door out of reality’ for the already-marginalised. What’s more, the hesitance of the subjects to even approach treatment is coiled around the stigma not just surrounding substance abuse, but of the LGBT community at large.
It’s an easy thing to forget in the age of social media, where the face of activism largely consists of drawing attention to the problem in vitriolic fashion rather than present any solutions to it, but shame isn’t the ideal way to help others. Through Crawford’s persistently empathetic eye, he shows how union, not demonisation, can have a profound effect on one’s road to recovery.
Even beyond its communal specificity, Crystal City touches on accurate statements surrounding addiction, recovery and relapse. Namely, how boredom is an addiction’s best friend. It’s the state that can lead to initial substance use, and its prevalence can make the road to relapse even shorter.
Whether it’s delving into artistic pursuits like painting or taking up a public service like dog-walking or subway patrolling, the subjects are shown partaking in activities not just to show their individual personalities, but also to highlight how much other pursuits are needed to kick a habit. It also serves as a healthy counterargument to how drugs are a seeming prerequisite for art, showing how sobriety brings the subjects to clarity in their creativity.
More so than anything, the documentary’s mission to highlight a specific side of the epidemic results in its own form of microcosmic commentary. We see the subjects divulge their reasons for starting their use, from addictive personalities to childhood trauma, to liberation from the oppressive sensation of everyday life, even a ‘nothing left to lose’ scenario where they don’t see a reason not to. And in the process, it highlights how the gay community may have been targeted for the proliferation of crystal meth, both past and present, and the reasons they were targeted aren’t that different from the rationale of the straight community, even outside of the specificity of methamphetamine.
Much like with Ellen Burstyn’s portrayal of a diet-pill-addicted shut-in in Requiem For A Dream, echoed here through the brief inclusion of ‘Mother’s Little Helpers’, drug use is shown simply as a part of the human condition. It highlights a problem in the gay community, with enough footwork to avoid adding fuel to the Gay Panic fire, and makes a quite effective plea to the masses to look past the surface and help one another. Because underneath all that flesh, their blood runs as red as anyone else’s.
