I never thought Matthew McConaughey held much weight as an actor.

That is, until he lost a lot of weight.

I never saw him as more than a guffawing burner who relied on his abs and his sex appeal. His acting skills were just passable.

Until he stood on his homosexual appeal.

We were roughly halfway finished with Dallas Buyers Club when my wife turned to me in befuddlement.

“Where’s Matthew McConaughey?” she wondered.

She was looking for the blonde mush mouthed stud who’d strutted through films like A Time to Kill and the unfortunate Failure to Launch. There was no sign of that Matthew McConaughey in this film.

And that’s a good thing.

Dallas Buyers Club sends McConaughey’s gaunt Ron Woodruff on a desperate international search for survivability. A womanizer, boozer, drug user, and incurable homophobe, Woodruff contracts AIDS. His drinking buddies turn on him. His country denies him the pharmaceuticals he needs to survive. Basically, he’s left with no one other than a matchstick sized drag queen whose immune system is winding down faster than a tornado over a mobile home park.

Woodruff gives the middle finger to the Food and Drug Administration, jetting off to Mexico and Japan to acquire life saving drugs. In order to finance his trips, he sells portions of his unapproved booty to a ragtag bunch who share his disease. In other words, his life depends on the very people he once cursed.

McConaughey’s performance is almost as good as that of Jared Leto, who plays the frail transexual Rayon. A fascinating chemistry develops between the two characters that is both touching and hopeful.

Dallas Buyers Club is depressing. It is frustrating. It has a David vs. Goliath quality as our heroes take on the FDA, the FBI, and society’s rejection of AIDS patients.

It has Matthew McConaughey, and this time, that’s all right, all right, all right, all right.