Is this technically a gay show? Even after getting through the whole thing, that's still kind of tricky to answer. There's never any physical intimacy shown between the two leads, not even a single kiss. What it gives you instead is something that goes way deeper than that. It traces an emotional bond that spans a full decade between two guys who are both dealing with their own baggage, and what they share basically amounts to being soulmates. The story moves across Japan, South Korea, and Berlin. Honestly, whether people want to call what they have a romantic relationship or not doesn't really matter to me. A relationship doesn't need a label like boyfriends attached to it to actually mean something. And closeness doesn't need to be physical to feel genuine. What this show captures is something quieter but way more powerful, a bond rooted in understanding, respect, and just showing up for each other. Across eight episodes, each running 35 to 45 minutes, this is one...
20-year old Yuri has been living in the protective village environment raised by his aunts. He is quiet and shy, with the social skills of a toddler and some visible learning difficulties. Yuri becomes fascinated by the cocky Agostino, around 10 years his senior, with formidable piercing eyes, flame-red dyed hair and the perfectly chiseled face. He lives in a camper van and barely scrapes a living by conducting children’s birthday parties. The highly seductive and manipulative male invites Yuri to join him on his mobile home, promising him that they will eventually escape to Patagonia (where “natural beauty is unaffected” and “everyone only cares about being happy”). Instead, they move to a precarious trailer campsite surrounded by scraps and inhabited by young people constantly throwing drug-fuelled parties. It’s a decision which becomes synonymous with independence as well as discovery: the latter in terms of his identity and sexuality, but also the role he wants to play when performing in a duo with Augusto, as well as on the cruel stage of life. Yuri and Agostino soon become an unlikely pair who embark on an ambiguous and stifling relationship revolving around power games which slowly grow in intensity, cynicism and cruelty.
The homoerotic tones soon begin to flourish. Is there an attraction between the vulnerable and insecure teen and his older friend, or is this an abusive relationship with very peculiar parameters? Patagonia exude a sexuality, force and a sizzling youthful energy which is truly stunning. There is very little doubt that Yuri is gay. On the other hand, Patagonia keeps audiences guessing whether Agostino is a closeted homosexual, an opportunistic straight man or a careless bisexual. As I mentioned before, this is not your typical gay story. Yuri’s transition to adulthood is neither beautiful nor pleasant, and his sexuality in never romanticised. Instead, the most intimate moment is entirely anti-erotic, exposing the machinations of psychological domination. Yuri is relegated to a menial household tasks. Agostino constantly preaches “freedom”, but keeps Yuri emotionally tethered. The film doesn't judge ether of its main characters, but at the same time, not making their relationship clearer frustrated me as audience. We’re shown their bodies close, we’re teased by the arrival of handsome blond animal-loving raver, and we see Agostino and Yuri apparently naked holding each other in bed. Kissing? No. Sex? Who knows, except one scene of Agostino jerking Yuri off and another of an explicit water sports scene is about power and humiliation, not sex. The two actors do a splendid job and the film shot in 35 mm does a good job of cinematography, but I think I needed bot more clarity to completely be able to connect to the characters to be able to empathize with them. (5.5/10)
Comments