salSometimes the striped-down nature of indie filmmaking showcases genius. Case in point: Tangerine, one of my favorite films from last year. So I sat down to watch James Franco’s Sal hoping for a similar feeling. Instead I was hit with a flatness, an emptiness that couldn’t be avoided by any sort of splash, since there wasn’t any – just a raw script and a few actors. I’m fascinated with Sal Mineo. His abbreviated life. His acceptance of his sexuality in the mid-70’s – not an easy feat for someone with two Oscar nods. He was brave beyond his years. He figured out how to reinvent himself. And he didn’t seem destined for self-destruction like so many other tortured Hollywood souls. I was hoping for more of that from this sweet little indie. Instead I left feeling empty. 2 out of 5.


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