Some segments of this work brilliantly. The opening, for instance, is ten minutes of watching Joe Spencer shower while he often knowingly glances at the camera. Warhol truly understands how to photograph the male form without making this smut. The following segment, twenty minutes or so of men trying on clothes, is every bit as devious and delightful. But when the film takes a more talky, narrative approach, it's substantially less involving. Since that's well over an hour of the rest of the film, this feels like a missed opportunity where it might've been a masterpiece.
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