For better and for worse, the gay teen thriller Ganymede manages to capture the bleak horror of having to listen to a frothing anti-gay rant from some amped-up street corner preacher, or loud-mouthed bully. The kind of slur-filled noise that transmits fear and hate, and not a hint of Christian love.
Too many queer and questioning teens — like the film’s protagonist, high school wrestler Lee Fletcher IV (Jordan Doww) — are subjected to that barrage every day, at home, at church, at school. Lee’s small-town life is one long sermon on traditional values, ministered by his strict religious parents, and hellfire-spouting church pastor, all of whom are aware that the boy is battling certain so-called demons.
Lee is battling those demons literally, not just internally. In his nightmares, and in his waking life, he’s physically stalked by a hideous, skull-visaged creature that creeps out of his closet, or rises from the shadows in a corner of the room.
Conjured by Lee’s fragile, tortured psyche, the Creature (performed, with the aid of prosthetics and makeup, by Lucas Turner) is his sexual confusion and “reprobate thoughts” given physical shape. And, it seems, the Creature is especially triggered by Lee’s attraction to fellow senior Kyle (Pablo Castelblanco), who is gay and out, and totally into Lee.
Thankfully, Kyle is written with emotional complexity to go along with his crush on the good-looking jock. Portrayed with wit and confidence by Castelblanco, Kyle recognizes that Lee is suffering and confused, and not exactly boyfriend material, but he can’t help falling for the wrestler’s kind soul.
In a sweet heart-to-heart, spoken in Spanish and English, between Kyle and his supportive mom, Kim (Sofia Yepes), he confesses his feelings for Lee. His mom warns him to be careful about this boy.
In a different scene, and for completely different reasons, Lee’s mom, Floy (Robyn Lively), warns her son to be careful about Kyle. The cracked mirror images of maternal concern mark one bright spot of understated storytelling in a film — co-directed by Colby Holt and Sam Probst, from a script by Holt — battling its own demons of overacting and over-the-top psychodrama.
Lee’s parents don’t just preach and lecture about their traditional values. Floy and Big Lee (Joe Chrest) — as in “Bigly,” ha ha — shout and weep over their son like the world has ended, or their kid has died. Floy screams her frustrations into the bathroom mirror. Big Lee breaks down sobbing.
These responses might be psychologically valid in a real-world context, but as depicted here, they just look unhinged. Floy screaming to Lee that Kyle is evil because he flaunts his gayness is both high camp and utter drivel: “He’s a little Flaunt Leroy!” That’s an actual line.
“Mom, stop,” pleads Lee. And, he’s right. Please, stop. But then the family’s church leader, Pastor Royer (David Koechner), also calls Kyle a “little Flaunt Leroy.” That’s before the preacher whips out his makeshift electroshock machine for some unsanctioned conversion therapy.
Yet, conversion therapy, and attempts to pray away the gay, only leave Lee even more disturbed, and vulnerable to attack by his demons. Hence, Lee is constantly being scared awake by supposedly frightening, usually imaginary, brushes with the Creature.
He’s holding hands with Kyle, but suddenly, it isn’t Kyle, it’s a demon. Cut to, Lee waking up screaming. A girl at school plays footsie with Lee under the cafeteria table, but it isn’t a girl’s foot, it’s a demon! Lee screams.
Again and again, the film goes back to the same underwhelming well of scream cuts, stirring in blood and body horror, but never evoking the terror that truly grips Lee: his fear of himself.
Ganymede (★★☆☆☆) is available to streamon cable and digital VOD, including Apple TV, Fandango at Home, and Prime Video.
From the outside, Broadway's Hudson looks like every other historic theater in midtown Manhattan. But purchase a ticket for the new revival of Once Upon a Mattress, currently running here, and you'll hold the key to a kingdom of happiness.
The classic comedy has become a favorite among high school and community theaters, and for good reasons: It's cute, it's wholesome, it has a simple plot, and its relatively modest number of characters makes it easy to cast.
Although one might not consider it one of the greats in the canon of musical theater, it has certainly endured -- and it's also an important show for the sole reason that the entire score was composed by Mary Rodgers, not only noteworthy for the fact that a woman made her mark on Broadway in a male-dominated 1959 environment, but also because the daughter of Broadway royalty Richard Rodgers proved that she was an incredibly talented composer in her own right.
Beware the handsome tech billionaire who whisks you away on a jet to his private fantasy island claiming, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Because, no doubt about it, at some point, what you don’t want to do will be the only thing on the menu.
Yet, bright-eyed cater-waiter Frida (Naomi Ackie) and her co-worker bestie Jess (Alia Shawkat) simply can’t resist such a tantalizing impromptu invite from King Tech CEO and famous party boy Slater King (Channing Tatum).
They meet the garrulous mogul at an event where they’re supposed to be working, but instead charm their way into kicking it with King in VIP. Soon they’re jetting to paradise alongside him and his eclectic crew of buds, including right-hand man Vic (Christian Slater), stoner chef Cody (Simon Rex), hanger-on Tom (Haley Joel Osment), and various other young party people.
The whole truth is unknowable, and the evidence largely circumstantial, but Abraham Lincoln left ample reason to believe that he often found warmth and companionship in the arms of a man, according to several sources, including the compelling if somewhat scattered documentary Lover of Men: The Untold History of Abraham Lincoln.
Directed by Shaun Peterson, the film assembles a roster of esteemed (mostly LGBTQ) experts on Lincoln’s life, his letters, and his loves to sketch an intimate portrait of “far and away our most important president.” Before presiding over a nation at war with itself, Abe was just a bookish young man born in Kentucky, raised in Indiana, who had his first great romance in Illinois.
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