denial

To describe a movie as including a ski mask, a camcorder and $50,000 in cash would certainly lead one to imagine a specific type of story. Add two men and sex work and the brain might roll around more pointed scenarios.

But none of that can prepare you for what micro-indie “Blue Film” has in store. The nexus of perversion, pain and sexual purpose driving writer-director Elliot Tuttle’s dark, discursive chamber drama is of a stripe rarely attempted in even the most self-consciously daring movies. Should you need a self-imposed break afterward from intimate two-handers, even Tuttle might understand, then wink in the general direction of his Pasolini posters. (I’m guessing at this provocateur’s wall art.)

Is it clear yet that “Blue Film,” set primarily in a house in Los Angeles over the course of a revelatory night, isn’t for everybody? Some of that “everybody,” incidentally, includes the festivals and distributors who rejected the queer filmmaker’s debut feature, despite having critical buzz, Tony-winning actor Reed Birney as one of its stars and indie guru Mark Duplass as a mentoring producer.

But certain subjects (spoilers ahead) are bound to trigger a different kind of scrutiny. Initially, our attention is on macho-posturing tattooed camboy Aaron (“Boots” star Kieron Moore), graphically boasting to his followers online of the big payday he’ll receive that evening from a submissive client. What he later encounters, however, at the door of a Craftsman on a quiet street is a masked, polite, older host (Birney) with a camera and, once it’s turned on, a lot of personal questions, the kind that begin to crack the facade of a young man used to being in control of his transactional life.

Then his client’s face is revealed and Aaron recognizes it’s his middle school teacher Hank, a convicted pedophile who once coveted him. Hank, who completed prison time for the attempted assault of a different boy, has made a cross-country trip to seek out the adult version of someone who could have been his first victim. He is still processing what he is, wondering if desire, even love, is available to him anymore.

The question is, will you care? Even viewed through Aaron’s cautious, clear-eyed empathy, it’s a steep ask. But you should. Tuttle’s fearless inquisition won’t insult your intelligence, ask your mercy or hogtie your feelings. Honestly, it’s refreshing to be repulsed and intrigued by a movie willing to plumb these psychological depths when Hollywood won’t. In its commitment to unvarnished talk — even if that leads to a clunky staginess — “Blue Film” has thoughts about identity, choice, sin and salvation. There’s a sincere engagement with humanity’s more difficult realities.

Needless to say, this type of graphically articulated exchange wouldn’t work if the performances didn’t land. Thankfully, Moore’s affecting portrayal of jumbled masculinity mixed with situational curiosity is well-calibrated, while Birney, a pro with a challenge, eases us into Hank’s weary self-possession (if not always the nauseating facts of it) before coloring outside the lines with a believably interesting philosophy about reckoning.

But “Blue Film” is tough, make no mistake. Awkward and searching, it exists in a filmic space that you could argue was opened up by last year’s courageous documentary “Predators.” And sometimes that gaze is just discomfiting, full stop. Tuttle wants that. He has room to improve but he’s someone to watch, plumbing the hard-to-fathom.

For weeks, salacious talk swirled in campaign circles, ricocheted through email chains and was served up, like a buzzy side dish, over gossipy lunches from Sacramento to San Diego.

The talk revolved around Eric Swalwell, the 45-year-old congressman from the East Bay and one of the top Democratic contenders for California governor. The rumors involved allegations of inappropriate behavior with young staffers.

Pressed by rival camps, pursued by the political press corps, the claims were largely confined to unvetted corners of the internet until this week, when Swalwell’s campaign — knowing the whispers were getting louder — issued a public statement denying any wrongdoing.

The move was a prebuttal. Strategists figured it better to get out front of the chatter and address the online innuendo, even if it meant exposing the allegations to a much wider audience. The campaign’s statement was followed hours later by a categorical denial from the congressman.

“It’s false,” Swalwell told reporters Tuesday night in Sacramento. He said he never behaved inappropriately with female staff members or had a sexual relationship with any staffer or intern. There were no quiet legal settlements, he said. No hiding behind nondisclosure agreements.

Then, on Friday, the San Francisco Chronicle published a lengthy report — filled with highly specific and graphic details — quoting a woman who worked nearly two years for Swalwell, stating she had sexual encounters with him while he was her boss. Twice, she alleged, he sexually assaulted her when she was too intoxicated to consent.

The woman, who is 17 years younger than Swalwell, said the congressman began pursuing her within weeks of her hiring at age 21 to work in his district office in the East Bay Area. That was in 2019.

The woman said she largely kept quiet about Swalwell’s behavior out of fear she would suffer personal and professional consequences. She told the Chronicle she did not share her account with authorities because she was afraid they would not believe her. The newspaper said medical records show the woman obtained pregnancy and STD tests a week after one of the alleged assaults.

Swalwell issued another categorical denial.

“These allegations are false and come on the eve of an election against the front-runner for governor,” he said in a statement, somewhat overstating his status in the neck-and-neck gubernatorial race. “For nearly 20 years, I have served the public — as a prosecutor and a congressman and have always protected women.

“I will defend myself with the facts and where necessary bring legal action,” Swalwell said. “My focus in the coming days is to be with my wife and children and defend our decades of service against these lies.”

Even before the Chronicle published its article, once the privately bandied rumors were suddenly the open, you could almost hear the sound of a dam bursting. Swalwell’s competitors were quick to amplify the assertions, grappling for advantage in a race that remains stubbornly knotted up.

“Very, very troubling,” said fellow Democrat Katie Porter. “Deeply troubling,” echoed Betty Yee, another of the Democratic hopefuls.

A third Democrat running, Antonio Villaraigosa, was more inventive, accusing Swalwell “of skipping town” — he did not attend a Wednesday candidate forum in Sacramento — “as more and more women come forward with sexual harassment allegations.”

At that point no one with firsthand knowledge had come forward to contradict Swalwell’s denial of wrongdoing.

But with Friday’s article in the Chronicle, opponents escalated their attacks. San Jose Mayor Matt Mahan and state schools superintendent Tony Thurmond both called on Swalwell to quit the race.

One of his highest-profile backers, Democratic Arizona Sen. Ruben Gallego, withdrew his endorsement and expressed regret he had defended Swalwell on social media prior to the Chronicle’s account. Democratic Rep. Jimmy Gomez of Los Angeles also withdrew his endorsement and urged Swalwell to abandon his candidacy.

Behind closed doors, other major Swalwell backers were reassessing their support.

It’s understandable — and probably necessary — for the congressman to retreat, as he suggested, to spent time with his wife and family.

But in light of the Chronicle’s report, and its damning allegations, he’ll need to do more than issue strongly worded statements on threatened legal action if he has any hopes of salvaging his gubernatorial candidacy and political career. (Swalwell gave up his congressional seat to run for governor.)

If the allegations are false, he needs to refute each and every detail in thorough, incontrovertible fashion. If they’re true, then what could Swalwell possibly have been thinking — not just forcing himself on his alleged victim, but running for governor knowing what he’d done? Was he convinced his behavior would never come to light? Did he believe that adamant denials would allow him to brazen his way through?

Swalwell has a lot of explaining to do — about his behavior, his disclaimers, his judgment.

And even though the June primary is still many weeks away, he has very little time to do so.

WASHINGTON — A federal judge agreed Friday to block the Trump administration from enforcing a policy limiting news reporters’ access to the Pentagon, agreeing with The New York Times that key portions of the new rules are unlawful.

U.S. District Judge Paul Friedman in Washington sided with the newspaper and ruled that the Pentagon policy illegally restricts the press credentials of reporters who walked out of the building rather than agree to the new rules.

The Times sued the Pentagon and Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth in December, claiming the credentialing policy violates the journalists’ constitutional rights to free speech and due process.

The current Pentagon press corps is comprised mostly of conservative outlets that agreed to the policy. Reporters from outlets that refused to consent to the new rules, including from the Associated Press, have continued reporting on the military.

Friedman, who was nominated to the bench by Democratic President Bill Clinton, said the policy “fails to provide fair notice of what routine, lawful journalistic practices will result in the denial, suspension, or revocation” of Pentagon press credentials. He ruled that it violates the First and Fifth amendment rights to free speech and due process.

“In sum, the Policy on its face makes any newsgathering and reporting not blessed by the Department a potential basis for the denial, suspension, or revocation of a journalist’s (credential),” he wrote. “It provides no way for journalists to know how they may do their jobs without losing their credentials.”

The Pentagon did not immediately respond to a request for comment on the ruling.

It has argued that the policy imposes “common sense” rules that protect the military from the disclosure of national security information.

“The goal of that process is to prevent those who pose a security risk from having broad access to American military headquarters,” government attorneys wrote.

Times attorneys claim the policy is designed to silence unfavorable press coverage of President Trump’s administration.

“The First Amendment flatly prohibits the government from granting itself the unbridled power to restrict speech because the mere existence of such arbitrary authority can lead to self-censorship,” they wrote.

Kunzelman writes for the Associated Press. AP writer Konstantin Toropin contributed to this report.