Charming and brutal

At first rather annoying in its heavy emphasis on reenactments, this movie ultimately proves fascinating, simply because the complicated, highly dramatic tale it tells still almost defies belief.

This movie tries so hard to be funny, yet it falls flat every time. Just another example of recycled ideas repackaged with women in an attempt to appeal to a certain audience.

The movie's not perfect, but it sticks the landing of its message. It was engaging - thrilling at times - and I personally thought it was a great time.

Flesh is about a bisexual prostitute who spends a day trying to make enough money to pay for his wife's girlfriend's abortion. It's cheaply shot, cheaply edited, and cheaply produced, so some extra attention has to paid to the dialog because sometimes it's a little difficult to hear, though the imagery is straight-forward enough. The actor who plays Joe spends about half of the screen-time completely naked (and yes, Morrissey doesn't shy away from showing everything), and basically through a series of scenes and conversations in the streets and cheap apartments of New York you get a pretty interesting though somewhat dragged-out portrait of the sexual underground, populated entirely by passive, unintellectual people who live John to John and are ultimately unable to even think about what they'll need in the future. Though the acting is poor (and made worse by the editing, which cuts off some of the dialog in parts), there's a sense of realism here that goes beyond the likes of Midnight Cowboy and Dog Day Afternoon, more mainstream movies that can use the crisp production values and stronger acting as a sense of removal and distance between the subject and the audience ("after all, it's just a movie"). The dialog, in its meandering and mumbling glory, is actually really well written, making it a shame that it's so poorly delivered because it really does provide a gateway into understanding these characters. In the end, though, if this movie doesn't shock you it might not be that effective otherwise, because it is, after all, a story about bored people with no motivation.--PolarisDiB

A heap of human flesh lies asleep on a red pillow. This is the hunk of naked meat that is "Little Joe", a New York hustler who lives with his bisexual wife and baby child. The film follows a day in his life, after he's woken from sleep by his wife demanding that he go out and do the traditional male thing - be a breadwinner. But the use she wants to put the bread to is to pay for her new girlfriend's abortion. We certainly aren't in the traditional family unit here...After playing with his child, Joe hits the streets to cruise for johns. The clients come thick and fast: the ordinary gay man who wants to meet him again because they "work well together", the old English classical scholar who pays $100 to see Joe pose like an ancient Greek athlete; the female topless dancer who blows Joe then boasts about being raped; the ageing gym bunny who doesn't think that what he and Joe do together is queer. After a hard day's work, Joe returns home exhausted, only to be put down by his wife and the girlfriend. He goes back to sleep as they harp and undermine him.Flesh is fascinating as it takes what is a traditional classical mainstream structure - it has an inciting incident (the money for the abortion) and set-up, a confrontation and a resolution (albeit a very downbeat one), even a protagonist with a strongly motivated goal, and then proceeds to concentrate on the details of the day to day routine of these people who are perfectly ordinary to themselves but extraordinary to most "mainstream" people. It all seems very authentic and natural - it's hard to see the acting, the actors are so fully being their roles - but yet the whole thing is a piece of cunning artifice - a beautifully drawn portrait or an intricately carved statue. Director Morrissey carefully plants every incident, every encounter around his theme of human flesh become packaged commodity but with such cunning slight of hand that you almost don't notice him doing it. The wife "packages" Joe's sexual organ, the old Englishmen laments a long gone order of classical beauty which created art and poetry from human fleshly beauty, the transvestite friends of the stripper package themselves as women whilst reading a Hollywood magazine in which "real" women are packaged as products; the gym bunny buys Joe's friendship and affection, thinks artificial porn is real and can't tell, as we can't, that Joe is performing his friendship and intimacy for the cash. The film itself presents itself as the ne plus ultra of cinematic realism but what we might as well be dealing with here is fine art or an early example of concept art.The genius - a word not lightly used - of Morrissey was to find a way of taking Warhol's arty pretensions to film-making, which were interesting sure but boring as hell, and making them into saleable products which remain amongst the most intriguing works of cinema art ever made - commercial cans labelled "Flesh" and "Trash" and "Heat" with a product label - "Andy Warhol" - which sells an idea about the product as much as the product itself. Yet just as you reel from Morrissey's cynicism, you are spellbound by his ability to still maintain the highest of standards and depth of meaning. The constant what seem like camera flashes continually draw attention to the filmic nature of what one is witnessing, yet you get drawn into the illusion all the same - Flesh is surely one of the most extraordinary pieces of cinema magic to ever spellbind an audience.

I guess only a selected number of audience members really had any interest in watching how a male hustler in New York operates but I'd be willing to bet that even these brave souls were turned off by the irritating patchwork technique and deliberately muffled sound recording on display here; the fact that these inherent 'defects' were a direct result of the film's low-budget/underground/experimental nature is, I'd say, beside the point. Anyway, for those so inclined, the film features extensive male nudity and Joe Dallesandro, understandably, became an underground – and gay – icon! The episodic structure showing the day-to-day routine of the hustler protagonist offers a couple of mildly interesting scenes: his meeting with (and eventually posing for) an eccentric elderly artist; the one where Dallesandro expresses his views on his unusual line of work and delineates his particular modus operandi to a couple of prospective 'colleagues' including perhaps the unlikeliest of hustlers – a bespectacled nerd! Perhaps mercifully, the film ran for only 89 minutes against the IMDb's claim that its complete length is 105 (but the latter could well be a mistake)! I had watched a few other of Warhol's 'movies' and this one is decidedly not as satisfying as the most tolerable example I've run into yet, BAD (1977), and only slightly better than the likes of MY HUSTLER (1965) which were mostly a strain to sit through. The fact that this was only the first part of a trilogy did not augur well but, as the saying goes, you gotta to do what you gotta do and the other two 'chapters' had to follow in quick succession... Despite my generally negative reaction to it, FLESH is nevertheless still valuable as a 1960s time capsule and as a prototype of the Underground scene of that era, both cinematically and in real life. For the record, an image of Dallesandro from this film adorns the sleeve of The Smiths' self-titled 1984 debut album and transsexual Candy Darling (who appears here rather unremarkably) was immortalized in "Candy Says", the opening track of The Velvet Underground's eponymous 1969 album. Although the latter band is my all-time favorite, and one of the reasons for this is that, through their sheerly unique and ground-breaking music, they described a lifestyle so utterly different from my own, this is truly a case where I'd much rather experience something aurally instead of visually!

Snap, crackle, pop! The jarring sound of every change in camera angle. And that's not to mention the white flashes and the clipped endings to almost every spoken sentence. What on earth were they up to in the editing room? Or could it be that this approach was intentional? Surely not. What purpose could it serve? Despite all its technical short-comings, this is an interesting film depicting a day in the life of Joe, a hustler, determined to earn $200 for his wife's pregnant girl friend. Joe Dallesandro is outstanding as the easy-going, passive, laid-back young man who is willing to let the other person do most of the talking while he listens with a faraway look in his eyes.The story is meagre and sketchy, documenting the uncertain life led by a man who relies on casual street sex to support his young wife and baby. One thing is certain, Joe is uninhibited when it comes to disrobing for sex or posing for an artist. Understandably so, for he has a handsome face and and equally handsome body.There is a scene in the film that is remarkably effective. There is no sound, no dialogue. Joe stark naked is crouching on the floor feeding crumbs of cake to his little baby. There is a beautiful serenity and tenderness captured in these quiet moments.Another scene of amusing interest is the one in which Joe desperately seeks a loan of $100 from a gym friend, coming to the point of asking in a very circuitous approach.Joe tries to look interested but is hesitant in his conversation when an artist gives him a non-stop resume of Greek and Roman art. It's a preliminary to another occasion when Joe divests himself of his clothes and poses as the discus thrower in true classical style.At the end of the film we gain the impression that we have got to know Joe pretty well. After all he has uncovered more than his soul.