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.
In 1996, the original Twister stormed the summer box office, winding up as the year's second-highest-grossing movie (behind Independence Day). Directed by Jan de Bont, who was still riding high off the success of Speed, Twister was loud, action-packed, and, especially when viewed today, utterly of its time.
It's totally '90s Hollywood, from the treacly, faux-Spielberg score, to the glow of Helen Hunt's movie stardom, to the fact that the only non-white cast member among dozens of characters has just a single incidental line. There was plenty that filmmakers might do differently with a sequel.
President Joe Biden pardoned thousands of former U.S. service members who were convicted of violating a now-repealed military regulation that criminalized sodomy.
The law in question, Article 125 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, stated that any person who engaged in "unnatural carnal copulation" with another person, regardless of sex, was guilty of "sodomy," with any form of penetration being "sufficient to complete the offense."
Those found guilty of engaging in sodomy could be "punished as a court-martial may direct."
While the law technically outlawed military members from engaging in oral or anal intercourse with any partner, the law was primarily used to punish gay and bisexual men.
Studio Theatre has resplendently re-opened The Colored Museum, George C. Wolfe's biting survey of Black American history, myth, humor, and representation in art and culture.
The entrance and stage of Studio's Victor Shargai Theatre comprise the galleries, displaying artifacts on the play's themes, created by students from the Duke Ellington School of the Arts.
Works hung inside the theater, and even the seating, envelope the audience within Psalmayene 24's environmental production, shrewdly designed by Natsu Onoda Power.
The prime exhibits on view at the Colored Museum are eleven brilliantly-written sketches encompassing centuries of Black lives, since African ancestors arrived in America as cargo, up to the modern age of so-called liberation. On ages of perceptions and misconceptions, Wolfe's stories speak truth with lacerating wit, and subvert stereotypes with deceptive ease.
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