Warhol’s brilliantly bitchy masterpiece of voyeurism, desire, and boredom unfolds on a lazy afternoon on Fire Island, where a threesome of libertines competes for the attentions of a buff, dipped-blonde “Dial-a-Hustler.” Middle-aged “Queen Ed” plays resigned beach house host for a boozy impromptu gathering of his lithe neighbor Genevieve and the “Sugar Plum Fairy,” a storied hustler in his own right, who interrupt his plans for Paul America’s naive hunk out sunbathing on the sand. Perhaps Warhol’s most explicitly entertaining and accessible film work, My Hustler casts a sharp eye on gender, sexuality, and the commodification of desire while passing as lightly as a summer divertissement.