Peering through a crack in a heavy door like a little voyeur or the viewer of Degas’s bathers if Edgar did homoeroticism, Barry Keoghan’s laughably Dickensian (or Roald Dahl-ian)-named Oliver Quick watches from behind as the golden-bodied object of his affection/obsession/envy, Jacob Elordi’s Felix Catton, jacks off until completion in an opulent old bathtub, placed … Continue reading →