Love (2012): I Want Your

Mathews, who is gay, casts non-professional actors playing versions of themselves (Metzger and McDonald share screenwriting credit). This blurs autobiography into fiction, giving the film the texture of a home movie shot through with existential dread. These aren’t characters; they are people caught mid-life, unaware they are being watched. Upon release, I Want Your Love was banned or censored in several countries (including, briefly, New Zealand). It played festivals alongside shouts of "art" and "obscenity." A decade later, those debates feel tired. In a streaming era where queer intimacy is often sanitized for mass consumption or exaggerated for prestige melodrama, Mathews’ film stands as a stubborn artifact of honesty.

Born from a 2010 short of the same name, Mathews’ feature expands the narrative of Jesse (Jesse Metzger), a gay man in his early thirties living in San Francisco. He is facing a quiet crisis: his financial situation forces him to move back to the Midwest, away from the chosen family and lovers who have defined his adult life. Over the course of a long, languid goodbye, he navigates lingering feelings for his ex, Fer (Matthew F. Rios), and a hesitant, undefined bond with his best friend, Jason (Keith McDonald). The first thing any discussion of I Want Your Love must address is its sexual frankness. The film contains unsimulated sex acts, most famously a prolonged, three-way scene between Jesse, Fer, and another man. But to label it "pornography" is to misunderstand its grammar. Where porn seeks climax (both narrative and physical), Mathews seeks duration. The sex is awkward, tender, logistical, and sometimes funny. There is negotiation ("Is this okay?"), there is fumbling, and there is the quiet, unglamorous reality of bodies in motion. i want your love (2012)

In one devastating, quiet scene, Jesse and Jason lie on a mattress, fully clothed, talking about nothing. The camera holds. No sex. No drama. Just two people who know they will miss each other. It is the most intimate moment in the film. I Want Your Love belongs to a specific subgenre of queer cinema: the elegy for pre-gentrification, pre-Internet gay domesticity. Like Andrew Haigh’s Weekend (2011) or Ira Sachs’ Keep the Lights On (2012), it captures a moment when gay identity was still defined by physical space—the house party, the shared bed, the dive bar. Jesse’s impending move to the Midwest feels less like a geographic shift than an erasure of self. Mathews, who is gay, casts non-professional actors playing

Jesse is a protagonist defined by inaction. He loves his friends, but he is leaving them. He still desires Fer, but the relationship has curdled into a pattern of care without commitment. The film’s title becomes ironic: I Want Your Love is a plea, not a statement of possession. It is the ache of wanting something you already have but cannot keep. Upon release, I Want Your Love was banned

I Want Your Love is not a film about sex. It is a film about the space between sex—the moments after, the days before, and the love that lingers in the silence when no one is performing. That is far more uncomfortable, and far more beautiful, than any explicit act.