This one’s probably not going to work for everybody. It’s definitely artsy, but weirdly enough it also ends up feeling pretty calming, and it’s full of these little surprises and moments of delight, kind of mirroring the sexual experiences it’s showing us, or honestly just experiences we’ve all had ourselves. What you get is a bunch of snippets from different midnight hookups, some of it feels real, some feels more like fantasy, and it’s not always clear which is which. There’s even a question of whether the film’s playing with time in reverse, showing you how things came to be, but that’s something you’ll have to watch and figure out yourself.
The story follows Adnan, a grad student studying art who’s apartment sitting for his uncle in Williamsburg through the summer while also interning at a small gallery. The film breaks itself into three parts, each one built around a different guy Adnan’s been involved with. First up is Yariel, a delivery driver, who Adnan meets when he drops off food, and then runs into again later at a park, where things heat up and there’s clearly something real between them. Yariel later shows up at Adnan’s gallery with food, looks like he’s trying to set up a date, but Adnan’s swamped with work, so instead Yariel ends up coming over to Adnan’s apartment with friends for a hookup that plays out across different angles almost like it’s staging art in multiple poses. There’s a hint that Yariel might actually be some kind of writer or artist himself, low key about it. From there the film jumps back to show how Adnan first crossed paths with an older artist whose show he’s currently working on putting together. That artist is Sal, known for BDSM inspired needle art, and Adnan met him the previous summer up in the Hudson Valley. Adnan’s out biking when his tire suddenly blows, and an older guy stops to help him out, which eventually turns into them sleeping together. Afterward they end up talking about art, and about grief, and Sal opens up about the partner he lost. This is where fantasy and reality start blending together in a way that feels really specific to this movie but also just works. The third chunk goes even further back, showing Adnan up in the Hudson Valley with his longtime boyfriend Iggie, the two of them hoping for some quality time together. Things have been rocky between them, they haven’t slept together in half a year, ever since someone in their life passed away. There’s clearly still love there, but the closeness between them has faded. Adnan decides to take his bike out, a small moment that ends up setting off the chance encounter with Sal. The director weaves all three of these threads together almost like memories folding into each other, treating time less like a straight line and more like layers stacked on top of one another. By the end, things get grounded again, Iggie shows up at the art exhibit, and he and Adnan share this quiet, lingering hug before going their separate ways. It’s a small, quiet moment, but it fits the tone of a film about gay relationships perfectly.
This is a soft, understated queer film that’s about love and sex, sure, but it’s just as much about friendship, loneliness, and how hard it is to hold onto something lasting in a world that often doesn’t understand or take these relationships seriously. In the first storyline desire is at its rawest, in the second affection turns into something wiser and more reflective, and by the third, that spark has started to fade. There’s a real poetic rhythm running through the whole thing, which is exactly why I said upfront it might not click for everyone. Visually it’s stunning too, not only the outdoor scenes but even the apartment Adnan’s staying in looks gorgeous. The actor playing Adnan is really the standout here, he’s got this effortless good looks and delivers a genuinely strong performance. His chemistry with Yariel comes through as both physical and tender at the same time, which is a real contrast to the strained, more complicated dynamic he has with Iggie. At its core this film is about all the things that never really get closure, about the people who drift into our lives and then drift back out, and about how memory ends up holding onto every piece of that. There’s no judgment anywhere in how it’s shot, just empathy and honesty, and a real understanding of how messy gay relationships can actually be. Drunken Noodles is asking us to slow down and really pay attention, to ourselves, to the people around us, and to the small quiet moments that usually go unnoticed. It’s gentle, thoughtful, and comes from a genuinely sincere place. (7.5/10)
