"Beefcake," Thom Fitzgerald's (The Hanging Garden) provocative blending of fiction and documentary, tells the story of Bob Mizer, the pioneering founder of the Athletic Model Guild, a company which produced still photographs and short films extolling the beauty and chiseled physiques of men. The fiction story follows photographer and enterprising businessman Mizer, who teamed up with his mother in 1945 to film his beefy star-wannabes around his sun-drenched pool. It is here that Neil, a naive, right-off-the-bus teen is lured into using his handsome looks to become a model. The wide-eyed Neil soon learns about the world of sex and prostitution. But a police raid and ensuing criminal trial soon threaten both of the men's worlds. Interspersed with the story are rare archival footage and interviews with former co-workers, customers and models.

Canadian filmmaker Thom Fitzgerald made his name on the gay film scene with his dramatic fantasia The Hanging Garden, but with Beefcake he captures a more lightheartedly dreamy tone: The film takes its lead from Valentine Hooven's lip-smackingly compulsive coffee table tome of the same name. We're offered a teasing, pseudo-history of mid-century pop male photography, featuring quaint muscle-mag shots and nude "studies" of, among others, a hungrily seductive young Joe Dallesandro (before he made his name in underground Andy Warhol flicks like Flesh). Dallesandro's here to talk, along with other "models" who mostly supply commentary on Bob Mizer, the enterprising founder of the Athletic Model Guild. Fitzgerald blends the real-life documentary material into his fictional confection concerning a sexy bumpkin who falls into Mizer's AMG set-up (it produced America's first closeted gay erotica publication, passing itself off as an innocently obsessive guide to health and fitness). The campy original story--the hero's Valley of the Dolls-inspired name is Neil O'Hara--is a bit dumb, actually, mostly because it's not even half as interesting as the real deal. Lots of innocently nude frolicking doesn't hurt, though, and the film engages when it manages to be as naively sweet and erotic as Mizer's bygone magazines. --Steve Wiecking