Three Months

Three Months is such a sweet, touching little film that it makes me wish the script didn’t force the protagonist, Caleb, to ride around solo on a tandem bike. Sure, Caleb has an emotional attachment to the thing (it belonged to his dead father), it comes in handy to the plot now and then (in a ‘hey, I have an extra seat in case you need a lift’, or ‘oops sorry, there’s three of us and only two seats’ sort of way), and it doesn’t even look like it’s that much harder than riding a normal bike — but still, the whole idea smacks of a desperate cry for attention; writer/director Jared Frieder’s way of making sure we know how quirky his main character is supposed to be. A movie can be, and this one otherwise is, original and spontaneous without making its main character look dumb or crazy, neither of which Caleb is; as a matter of fact, he more often than not comes across as a very intelligent young man — so much so, indeed, that it’s hard to justify his preferred mode of transportation. He certainly makes other questionable choices, but these stem more from a careful observation of human nature than from the plot’s requirements. Fortunately, Three Months is, more so than the destination, about the journey — even if the journey partly takes place on “a gay two-man bike” (by the way, the film contains a nicely understated sense of humor) —, which seemingly starts out as a queer version of Clerks, but will eventually distinguish itself through a knack for the unexpected. There is romance in it — and some of the most moving moments involve Caleb’s tentative, puppy-love relationship with the popcorn-loving Estha (the popcorn thing is also gimmicky, though nowhere near as much as the tandem bike) — but it’s not a romantic comedy; similarly, the action revolves around Caleb’s wait for a future revelation, but by the time the titular three months are up, the nature of the knowledge he has been expecting is rendered moot, superseded by the wisdom he has gained along the way