In 22 minutes LOVERFILM passes review over twenty years of sexual experiences and over one hundred different partners. Brynntrup notes that the idea for this film developed out of ALL YOU CAN EAT. There are numerous points in which the films resemble each other visually. LOVERFILM presents pictures, films or videos of the lovers’ faces while Brynntrup narrates their names in a monotone voice. There are also other images; apparently when no photo of a former partner was available, Brynntrup inserted a sequence like that found in EAT. Primarily, though, the images are of former lovers as they look into the camera. They pose and address it as one would when being photographed by a friend and lover. Robin Curtis describes the experience of the film as similar to “flipping through a friend’s photo album.”29 While this is true, the emotion system established here is not an intimate mood. The monotone quality of the voice establishes a sort of cognitive dissonance between the image and a certain expectation of emotional attachment established by the title, LOVERFILM. The voice is not the studied voice of a Straub/Huillet film, it is more an echo of Warhol’s famous indifference. It passes review without an inflection of love, fondness, or concern.

In addition to the images through the voice we are given bits of further information from Brynntrup’s diaries, like when he got herpes, or who was his first Asian or African, or the results of his HIV tests: “1989, It’s August 20th; I’m still negative.” This information contributes to the sense of dissonance. Curtis further observes in this regard that the “passages from the diaries describing the trials and tribulations of particular relationships are contrasted with the imperatives of the medical discourse that views each individual with respect to the AIDS virus, in the language of epidemic modelling, simply as either ‘infected,’ ‘susceptible,’ or ‘dead.’ This is underscored by the fact that some of the protagonists from LOVERFILM, such as Baldiga or Ovo Maltine, are now also subjects of memorial works by Brynntrup.” Hovering over all these images without being stated explicitly is a revision of gay sexuality in the era of AIDS. It asserts a non-monogamous sexuality of the kind eschewed in the era of safer sex and sexual respectability. Of interest here though is the monotony of the voice listing the names and stating intimate facts frequently related to health. This voice jars vis-à-vis the often innocent and even naïve pictures. The monotone does not sensationalize, rather it holds up for consideration. It conveys a confusing sense of coldness, investigation, concern, listing, and even surveillance.

Beyond the framing of the images within the litany of sexual partners, the film warns the spectator that “those photographed have not been notified that their likeness is being used in this context, nor has their permission been approved.” This notice underscores, in contradistinction to EAT and the pornographic source of the footage, that these images come from a private and even intimate sphere and were not intended or released for appropriation into a public and sexualized sphere. It further provokes with “Warning” title cards and at two points either delays or stops the review of names and faces by instructing the spectator in 1950s stylized lurid language of the social problem film that “the viewer is also responsible for images made public. Be aware that when you watch the following film, you will infringe upon the privacy of those persons who have been photographed. You have one minute to decide if you really want to see this film. Don’t hesitate to leave the theater with a clear conscience if that be your choice.”

The face here is the face of the lover with personal information attached. The emotional register explored, however, is not that of a melodramatic register, or even that of flipping through a friend’s photo album. In contradistinction to EAT, the face is identified and the question of permission draws up a sense of ownership and (failed) agency over the image. This is an unusual state to describe as emotional, and again with Brynntrup we reach the limits of the expressible in words.