Cruising (1980)

New York City detective Steve Burns Al Pacino receives orders from Captain Edelson Paul Sorvino to solve a series of brutal murders in the gay community. Steve scours the gay bars that caters to same-sex sadomasochism in a desperate attempt to solve the crime. As he infiltrates the scene, he slowly comes loose from the moorings of his own reality, and an innocent victim is tortured by the cops in an effort to exact a confession. The story is based on actual murders that took place between 1962 and 1979. The film gained considerable publicity because of the controversial subject matter while censor argued between an X and R rating for the feature.

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Review by Brian J. Dillard 

Although it was greeted with scorn by gay-rights groups and other critics upon its 1980 release, this Al Pacino thriller isn't coherent enough on any front to be viewed as a deliberately anti-gay screed. Less a police procedural than a queasy psychodrama set against the backdrop of New York City's leather scene, Cruising simply doesn't function very well as a mystery. Red herrings are one thing, but writer/director William Friedkin's script is so full of holes, ambiguity, and misdirection that it confounds any sort of literal interpretation. As a gritty fever dream about masculinity and sexual anxiety, however, this dank, dark, unpleasant picture is memorable indeed. His weary, hollowed face bathed in shadows, Pacino navigates the world of gay S & M like it's a perversely fascinating theme park -- one he's uncomfortable admitting that he's grown to love. No greased-up arm, no bobbing head, no desperate tongue kiss is too hyperbolically sleazy to escape the notice of his character -- or the camera. One infamous scene, involving an oversized African-American man in thong underwear and a cowboy hat inexplicably conducting an interrogation, provides only the most obviously over-the-top example of masculinity magnified until it's a parody of itself. Cruising may not be much of a thriller, but it's still a fascinating piece of cinematic voyeurism with an enduringly hard-to-pin-down subtext.