Director: Christopher Ashley
Stars: Steven Weber, Michael T Weiss, Patrick Stewart
Sex was never meant to be “safe” or “negotiated” – or fatal.
- “Jeffrey” (Steven Weber)
You can count on one hand the works of art, music and literature crafted since the invention of fire that haven’t been inspired in some way by the negotiations that have attended sex since mankind crawled out of the swamp. It’s hard to imagine how any kind of sex could occur without some form of negotiation or the presence of some kind of risk.
Even virgin teenagers, with their unwanted public erections or cramping menstrual experiences understand the elemental, primal power of sex often long before they’ve even experienced it. Somewhere along the road to adulthood, however, many gay men seem to lose this knowledge.
For, only in the solipsistic, reality-starved, vacuum-sealed echo chamber of gay ghetto culture, the setting for the pathetic Jeffrey, could the idea that sex is naturally uncomplicated and should come with no consequences be expressed so guilelessly.
Jeffrey is, easily, the worst gay-themed film ever made. Given the generally low quality of gay-themed, films, that might seem really something, but Jeffrey easily qualifies. It is staggeringly bad.
Director: Q Allan Brocka
Stars: Scott Lunsford, Jim Verraros, Ryan Carnes, Emily Stiles
Eating Out has a plot that might sustain a half-hour episode of a Z-grade sitcom, so its running time of 84 minutes stretches the material way beyond breaking point.
Caleb (Scott Lunsford) likes dominant women. He has the hots for Gwen (Emily Stiles) but she wants to watch him to do it with another guy. Gwen lives with Marc (Ryan Carnes) a gay pianist who in turn is the apple of Caleb’s roommate Kyle’s (”American Idol” contestant Jim Verraros) eye. Kyle cooks up the plan: Caleb can pretend to be gay by going on a date with Caleb, thus winning the affections of Gwen then sending a prick-teased Marc to return home horny, straight into Kyle’s waiting lap.
“Haven’t you ever seen an electrical box? It’s rectangular.”
Does anybody know the name of this film? It must ring some bells somewhere, if only because it also contains this great scene:
ALL OVER THE GUY
Director: Julie Davis
Stars: Dan Bucatinsky, Richard Ruccolo
Available on DVD - order here
All Over The Guy is an utterly wretched film that – apart from a split second cameo from the talented Lisa Kudrow – scores zero or less in every area.
Eli (Dan Bucatinsky – also the screenwriter and the producer so the main person to blame, I guess) is a wordy, plain looking guy who’s best friends with Brett (Adam Goldberg) who’s straight. Brett starts dating brassy LA-chick Jackie (Sasha Alexander), whose BFF Tom (Richard Ruccolo) is a hard-drinking gay hunk. Jackie and Brett introduce their gay best friends but Eli and Tom get off to a rough start – Tom drinks too much, and doesn’t respond to Eli’s romantic advances.
For some reason, however, Eli thinks Tom is “the one” and won’t leave him alone, sniping at him for being unresponsive, and even stalking him, breaking into his apartment and subsequently spending the night in jail.
It all plays out like a filmed slush draft, a get-it-all-down hotch-potch of nascent ideas, rather than a script that’s been shaped into something meaningful during workshopping and redrafting. Maybe the creators of All Over The Guy were in a rush?
United States, 2007
Director: Spencer Schilly
Stars: Nick May, Blake Young-Fountain, Damián Fuentes, Tom Merlino
Ricky is the emo houseboy used for sex by a (slightly) older gay couple, and they’ve entrusted him to look after their house while they’re away on vacation. Bad idea, for after Ricky does his seventy-seventh bump of K, sucks off his five hundredth trick every last desperate house plant and goldfish has finally died as a result of his neglect.
Going out in sympathy with the plants, Ricky asks himself out loud for the umpteenth time if he should kill himself. Most viewers, who’ll be as catatonic as Ricky after their first fifteen minutes of The Houseboy, will probably be asking similar questions of their own to get out of sitting through the rest of this movie.
I was really enthusiastic about a film that looked like it might explore the refracted shards of emotion that must clatter between the participants of a three-way live in relationship. The trailer for The Houseboy (below) hinted that one of the older guys, Simon (Tom Merlino), was entertaining the idea of dumping the other, Dominic (Damián Fuentes) to take up with Ricky but this proves to be a complete red herring since neither Simon nor Dominic are developed as characters before they drive off ten minutes into the film and they return to no effect just before the final credits roll.
In between, Ricky lolls about sliding deeper and deeper into introspective depression and suicidal thoughts. No one loves him, including the father figure lovers he invites over continually. He thinks his life is a wreck and he has nowhere to go. I couldn’t agree with him more.
The best thing that could have happened during the making of this pitiful film is if a freak King Wave had struck without warning during the filming of a location scene and washed the cast and crew and all of the equipment out to sea. This would have saved us all the horror of watching the movie, which, at its absolute pinnacle, is the dreary tale of an uninvolving pansy vaguely pursuing the film’s trite tag line, “to find himself, he’ll have to risk it all”.
Tan Lines is, easily, one of the worst gay-themed films ever made and that is saying something.
Anyone who understands that gay sex does not necessarily indicate mental illness and does not necessarily produce disease and death - and that should include anyone born after Freud - will not know whether to laugh or cry at The Gift, a horrifying documentary about gay men who deliberately seek sex that will almost certainly result in them becoming infected with HIV.
Parts 3, 4, 5: