If we’re going to be incredibly reductive, then Test is probably going to be known as the gay bodybuilding movie. Or at least the gay bodybuilding movie of 2026. Let’s face it. Muscular men posing on stage, covered in oil, is far more intertwined with queer culture than some people probably realize, especially when you put it that way. But Brock Yurich doesn’t settle for making a movie that’s content to exist because of its aesthetic. Drawing from his own experiences in the bodybuilding world, he wrote a screenplay that uses that environment as the backdrop for something much more personal.
Yurich plays Eddie, an amateur bodybuilder chasing the one thing that has eluded him for years: his pro card. At the start of the film, he’s managed by his mother, Joanne, played by Tammy Blanchard. The problem is that she’s an addict, an alcoholic, and has absolutely no clue what it actually takes to succeed in competitive bodybuilding. Every opportunity seems to slip away until Eddie finally decides to take control of his own future, seeking out veteran bodybuilder Mike as his coach. Mike understands the sport, understands what judges are looking for, and begins molding Eddie into the kind of competitor who might finally realize the dream he’s devoted his life to chasing.
That’s the central story, but it’s far from the only one. Eddie also works as a restaurant server while earning extra money as a cam boy. Interestingly enough, this is now the second film I’ve seen this year where cam work plays a significant role, and the third overall if you count Maximum Pleasure Guaranteed. While plenty of movies and television series have gravitated toward OnlyFans, cam sites seem to be becoming the profession of choice whenever filmmakers want to depict someone monetizing their looks. Given that Eddie is a bodybuilder, it’s hardly surprising that he has an audience willing to reward him generously.
His faith also plays an important role in his life. Matthew Morrison appears as Pastor Gregg, a steady reminder of the values Eddie was raised with, while Joanne clings to those same beliefs despite her own obvious shortcomings. That religious upbringing leaves Eddie struggling to reconcile what he’s beginning to understand about himself with what he’s always been taught he should believe.
One thing I appreciated is that Test doesn’t manufacture some giant coming out scene where everything suddenly clicks into place. Instead, it allows Eddie’s identity to remain a little uncertain. His ex-girlfriend Abby returns after moving to New York to pursue a dance career, and their reunion contains one of the film’s most sincere moments when Eddie admits that her leaving genuinely broke his heart. I believed him. Whether Eddie ultimately identifies as gay or bisexual almost feels secondary. My own interpretation leaned toward bisexual, because his feelings for Abby never came across as performative or dishonest, and the chemistry between them makes that emotional connection feel authentic.
At the same time, Eddie slowly develops feelings for Mike, and that relationship unfolds with a similar level of patience. Rather than treating attraction like a twist or a revelation, the film lets it develop naturally alongside everything else Eddie is wrestling with. It becomes another piece of a much larger puzzle about figuring out who he is instead of the sole point of the story.
Ultimately, Test is a film about identity in more ways than one. It’s about discovering who you are, certainly, but it’s also about deciding what kind of person you want to become. Eddie has spent years chasing an idealized version of himself, believing that becoming a professional bodybuilder will somehow complete him. As the film progresses, that dream becomes less about the trophy and more about understanding what he’s actually searching for underneath all that muscle.
If there’s one comparison that’s impossible to ignore, it’s Magazine Dreams. Jonathan Majors’ troubled film finally saw release in 2025, allowing audiences to judge it on its own merits despite everything surrounding its star. After all, he wasn’t the only person who made that movie. There was a director, a crew, and an entire cast, and the film itself had been completed before the incident that made many people unwilling to support Jonathan Majors projects.
The contrast between Magazine Dreams and Test is striking. Not because one explores LGBTQ themes and the other doesn’t, but because Majors’ bodybuilder is presented as someone whose mental state steadily deteriorates into something that feels almost Taxi Driver-like. Eddie, on the other hand, is surprisingly well-adjusted considering everything happening in his life. He’s dealing with family issues, financial struggles, questions about his identity, and the immense pressure of chasing an impossible dream, yet he remains someone you genuinely want to spend time with. For people involved in bodybuilding who simply want to see themselves represented on screen, that distinction matters. Whether or not they feel Eddie’s exploration of his sexuality reflects the sport itself almost becomes beside the point. He’s presented as a decent, stable human being, whereas Magazine Dreams intentionally presents something far darker. Representations have a way of shaping perceptions, and I imagine most bodybuilders would rather people assume they’re more like Eddie than Killian Maddox.
The standout supporting performance belongs to Tammy Blanchard. Her role is the flashiest by far, playing an addict and alcoholic who refuses to confront her own demons while demanding that her son become someone he isn’t. There’s a layer of hypocrisy there that’s fascinating. She worries about God judging Eddie for feelings he can barely understand himself, yet seems remarkably unconcerned that her own addiction and destructive behavior might warrant a little self-reflection first. Blanchard embraces every messy contradiction in the character without turning her into a cartoon.
At the moment, Test is still making its way through the festival circuit, where it’s been met with a mostly warm reception, and it has yet to secure distribution. I watched this screener without audio description, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it will stay that way. Sometimes these things change. As I was receiving my screener for Test, I learned that Marlin Kicks, which also lacked audio description in theaters and on premium video on demand, received an audio-described track once it arrived on Netflix. Sometimes these things just happen. Could Test eventually receive the same treatment? Maybe. I certainly hope so, because it’s a film I’d gladly watch again.
I think Test is a sincere and promising combination of queer representation and an underdog sports story. At its heart, it’s about someone chasing a dream that has consumed years of his life, and that’s a theme that transcends almost every genre. Anyone who’s ever wanted something badly enough to sacrifice for it can find something to connect with here.
Brock Yurich is an intriguing breakout talent, although he’s unfortunate enough to be arriving in the same year as Indy Navarrette in Obsession. Sometimes a single performance dominates the conversation so completely that everyone else ends up standing in its shadow, much like Chase Infinity did last year after One Battle After Another. Even so, I hope Test opens more doors for Yurich, not only as an actor but as a writer. After all, this story exists because he was willing to tell it. And yes, it’s cheesy, but I can’t resist saying it anyway. Test passed the test.
Fresh: 8.3/10
