Oh, Sam Mraovich, we know you tried so hard. This is your magnum opus, a shining example to the rest of us that you are certainly worth nomination into the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences (as you state on your 1998-era web site). Alas, it's better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt. With Ben & Arthur, you do just that.<br /><br />Seemingly assembled with a lack of instruction or education, the film's screenplay guides us toward the truly bizarre with each new scene. It's this insane excuse of a story that may also be the film's best ally. Beginning tepidly, the homosexually titular characters Ben and Arthur attempt to marry, going so far as to fly across country to do so, in the shade of Vermont's finest palm trees. But, all of this posturing is merely a lead-in for BLOOD. Then more BLOOD, and MORE AND MORE BLOOD. I mean, there must be at least $20 in fake blood make-up in the final third of this film.<br /><br />The film in its entirety is a technical gaffe. From the sound to the editing to the music, which consists of a single fuzzy bass note being held on a keyboard, it's a wonder that the film even holds together on whatever media you view it on. It's such a shame then that some decent amateur performances are wasted here.<br /><br />No matter, Sam. I'm sure you've made five figures on this flick in rentals or whatever drives poor souls (such as myself) to view this film. Sadly, we're not laughing with you.