Another Gay Sequel: Gays Gone Wild (TLA Releasing, NR)

film_gays.jpgRacism and bitchiness aside, Another Gay Sequel seems to lose itself along its thin premise, offering instead a cornucopia of annoying film references.








In Todd Stephens’ Another Gay Sequel: Gays Gone Wild, he once again takes the audience to gay fantasia, a world that exists without heterosexuality and thus disqualifying the very notion of "the other." In replacing American Pie with Beach Blanket Bingo as its structural arena, we find the quartet of fags from the original (three of which replaced by different actors) making their pilgrimage to the Mecca of their world, Fort Lauderdale, for the annual spring break Gays Gone Wild festivities, hosted by Tyrelle Tyrelle (played by RuPaul, who’s starting to look a bit like Angela Bassett these days) in which all the hairless twinks compete to see who can collect the most Fuck Stamps (it means exactly what you think it does). Much to everyone who chooses to watch Another Gay Sequel‘s displeasure, the boys are accompanied by the deplorable Perez Hilton, playing himself suffering a bout of amnesia after getting hit on the head while blowing a priest. The incident, which unfortunately didn’t keep him out of the rest of the movie, sparks a religious conversion within the gossip blogger and allows for the occasional tongue-in-cheek-but-terribly-unclever interruptions of some of Gays Gone Wild‘s finer activities, such as human shuffleboard and wet underwear competitions.

Like the previous Another Gay Movie, this trifling sequel only manages to offend in ways it doesn’t intend to. Part of the first film’s kiss of death was Stephens’ inability to elicit satire out of his material, therefore blindly rejecting and condescending the entire path that would have lead to this gay fantasia. Here, he tries a bit harder and ends up failing just as miserably. When the faggiest of the four, Nico (Jonah Blechman, the only actor to return from the first), wakes up from his opening sequence nightmare, there’s recognition that his friends sure don’t look anything like they did previously, to which his mother quips, "because some people’s agents think doing two gays movies in a row might actually make people think they’re really gay." The hardened truth of that statement turns instead to sounding like a case-in-point of Sharon Tate’s line in Valley of the Dolls, one of the few iconic gay films not spoofed in this movie, "you know how bitchy fags can be." Even when one of the prizes for the Gays Gone Wild contest is revealed (a trip to some rundown city in New Jersey), RuPaul’s delivery of "it’ll be great once the gays can get rid of the blacks" loses all of its edge when you realize, "oh, shit, RuPaul is the only black person in this entire film."

Racism and bitchiness aside (and I didn’t bother to go into the film’s sexual politics which are just as damning), Another Gay Sequel seems to lose itself along its thin premise, offering instead a cornucopia of annoying film references from the likes of Heathers, Splash, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane, 10, Dawn of the Dead and even a laughless Busby Berkley-meets-Singin’ in the Rain musical tribute to water sports (no, not the Michael Phelps brand). Stephens wears these "tributes" like badges of honor but never really provides any solid laughs even if a guy getting fucked in a pool and flopping around like a dead fish à la Elizabeth Berkley in Showgirls might sound funny on paper. More than just 95 minutes wasted, Another Gay Sequel, like its predecessor, finds satisfaction in crude offensiveness, completely naïve of the plaguing, almost harmful worldview it presents. It’s not opportunistic Katy Perry gayness; it’s just new-fashioned, close-minded fag ignorance. | Joe Bowman

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