Two men, sculpted, stand in a bedroom together. They exchange their weights and compliment each other’s discipline and diet, each one’s hands run over the other’s pecs and delts. They know, and the audience knows, what they came here to do, but they really can’t do it. They fumble awkwardly together; there’s so little passion or excitement in the way they clutch at each other it makes you want to look away from the screen. For these two who have spent so much time and energy achieving a form of physical perfection, they don’t know what their bodies are good for.
Aesthetics Without Action: Queer bodies, Marvel movies, and the 2023 Yankees
