A couple try something that, instead of opening up their relationship to new possibilities, ends up creating a distance between them, becoming hard to think won’t become permanent. When they return from a trip out of New York, they drift apart and one of them tries to unravel their feelings.
A trip to Vermont haunts a couple. Everyone keeps asking how it went, if the scenery was beautiful, if the atmosphere was romantic, if it was fun and relaxing. The two boys give short answers. Clearly something happened in Vermont, but it hardly matters. Joseph Barglowski, the director, is more interested in the emotional consequences of that supposedly idyllic weekend and how, from then on, a friction is generated in that relationship that throws each of the boys in different directions (and into different bodies). The sudden instability of that moment, which is not one of rupture but of torsion, allows Barglowski to build a portrait of a city (New York), a community (queer) and an environment (tense and cold). Vermont is therefore a gloomy urban symphony, in which 16mm photography (and reminiscent Super-8 sequences) merges with anti-psychological acting direction (there’s something of Robert Bresson’s “models” here) to produce a melancholic portrait of a generation. (Ricardo Vieira Lisboa)
