Night after night, Pablo descends the stairs of his local gay adult cinema. His quest is familiar to many of us, I suppose -- a longing for sex, affirmation, acceptance and love all at the same time and in the same place. A tall order, especially if you are a young, struggling HIV-positive writer living in a cramped apartment with your crazy aunt in Buenos Aires.

At a time in which almost all substantive references to HIV have been erased in gay-themed films, the real-life story in Anahi Berneri's intimately beautiful first feature, "A Year Without Love," is bold, thought-provoking and quietly moving.

Winner of the Teddy award at the 2005 Berlin Film Festival, "A Year Without Love" unfolds as Pablo Pérez (Juan Minujín) writes his diary and endures the mysteries of his illness and its effect on his life. The film combines the living with the writing as he captures his ongoing quest for love over the course of a pivotal year.

In increasingly poor health, Pablo decides as many gay men did -- remember, the film is set in pre-cocktail 1996 -- to avoid AZT, which he fears is toxic.

Pablo lives with his smothering, unstable aunt in an apartment paid for by his father. His only income is giving French lessons and doing a few translations. It is from this confining environment that he seeks out companionship and safe sex -- in carefully crafted personal ads (after all, he is a writer), on the streets and in the adult cinema.

None of these experiences gives him what he is after -- the feeling of still being really alive -- until he decides to answer an ad from a local S&M; master who is looking for three-ways. It is in the course of this relationship that Pablo meets the object of his desire, an S&M; leather clad muscle-man named Martin (Javier Van De Couter).

Pablo's obsession with the young man -- believing that they could become lovers when, in fact, Martin is only bent on sexual conquest -- is an engaging subplot in the film.

Director Berneri (a woman) understands the mental subtleties of S&M; sex; how the feeling of pain and pleasure can inexplicably make one feel alive. She does a tasteful and believable job of handling the leather sex scenes as well, capturing the intensity of the situation between the men without allowing it to become gratuitous.

Although this film may sound depressing, it is not. Nor is it primarily about S&M; or even sex at all. Rather, it is the true story of how a young man faced with the possibility of a premature and horribly lonely death uses his art to chronicle his time here.

In real life, as in the film, Pablo Pérez published his diary -- a testament to his resilience and to the power of love, and to a man's desire to feel alive when nearing death. It is these themes, expertly presented, that make this fine film the most moving and challenging gay movie of the year thus far.

-- Mark James