Jade Castro’s entry into the increasingly crowded arena of gay zombies (cross-references below) is a deeply flawed comedy whose visuals (notably young hunk Mart Escudero as Remington) can’t abide the narrative’s message. Even turning the sound off won’t help due to the subtitles (in white, yellow and lavender for the so-called “gayspeak” lines).
As a young brat, Remington takes special pride in outing every queer in his neighbourhood including the parish priest—during confessional, no less. But enough is soon enough when a pissed off drag queen takes his/her revenge by placing—literally—a grave gay curse on the bad-mouthed boy. 15 years later (the same amount of time passed for a far better take on lives forever changed in The Place Beyond the Pines when friends discover their real truths—cross-reference below) Remington awakens with saucily tented yellow shorts and a sudden appetite for women’s clothing and male physiques, notably his best bud (hilariously named Jigs, as in up—played by Kerbie Zamora).
Remington’s apparent love interest comes in the generally icy form of Hannah (Lauren Young) who has returned home from the big city (Manila) to look after her perpetually grieving mother following the death of her dad. As her beau’s new predilection becomes more and more obvious, she makes the transition to fag hag with the greatest of ease.
To add a bit of makeup-mad spice to the mix, there’s a queer serial killer on the loose whose space age gun (think Taser in Technicolor) despatches only homos to the other side, giving them a deadly makeover in the process. Realizing that the current lust of his life could end up as dead as the other Friends of Dorothy if Remington and he consummate their passion (the one bit of humour stems from the initiate’s first feel of male chest and taste of eager lips), Jigs selflessly truncates their growing attraction.
After the now intrepid trio of teens track down the curse monger, it falls to a go-go boy infused séance to discover the antidote for Remington’s “poofterdom”: if a straight man will voluntarily convert to gay, then Remington can resume his wet dreams for the much more curvaceous sex.
Needless to say, the murderer gets his just desserts but not before his victims, er, rise from the dead and take a very slow walk on the wild side. Naturally, a volunteer emerges to embrace his feminine side, thus saving Remington from his own eternal damnation as one who prefers to feast on the same sex.
In 2013, this messaging—in a comedy or not—is just plain wrong. Homosexuality is not a choice: either you are or you aren’t. Masquerading as one to cure another is demeaning to all those who have already made the difficult decision to (ironically quoting the film’s tag line) “stand up and be counted for.” JWR