House Of Boys
When I reviewed "House of Boys" last year, I was saddened by how underfed the actors were. For that matter, how underfed the script, sets, lighting and music were.
I’d love to say that this film, which follows the misadventures of a gay youth who gives the answer to anyone who believes that "pretty" doesn’t apply to the male sex, doesn’t break any ground is an understatement. It doesn’t even lay in a spade.
The youth is one of those from a solidly middle-class provincial family whose members love him, even if they don’t fully understand him. I would say cue Bronski Beat’s "Smalltown Boy," but I never got the reason why he ran away to the big bad city (Amsterdam, in a role as unsuitable to it as the rest of the cast).
He ends at the House of Boys, a male strip club that would be considered low rent in Manila. It’s run by a sinister woman who, I guess, is exploiting these poor kids. I say "I guess," because, like much else here, it’s not made clear. The worst aspect of the music is the really bad dancing by the boys. Considering the competition in Amsterdam’s infamous Red Light District, I’m glad at least that there are apparently a few dirty old men who like to watch shinny kids doing bad disco moves.
What I got was a screener copy, so there were no extras; not that you’d watch them.
House of Boys