Homo hardcore versions of mainstream horror box office hits proved something of a mini trend at the turn of the millennium. Wes Craven's SCREAM begat both David Thompson's morbid MOAN and Josh Eliot's more upbeat THRILL ME ! Chi Chi La Rue's ECHOES effectively adapted David Koepp's cult sleeper STIR OF ECHOES and now THE RING arguably the starting point for the whole J-horror hype that has all but cannibalized its brain-dead US counterpart (though it, ironically, spawned one of few fine remakes, courtesy of the unjustly underestimated Gore Verbinski) has inspired the redoubtable Wash "West" Westmoreland towards laugh out loud farce with THE HOLE. A breakout feature for generally more niche-oriented company Jet Set Productions, whose popular lines include the likes of FETISH, SPARE THE ROD and BIG BLACK BANANAS for which little additional info's required, it's not quite in the same league as past West masterpieces such as NAKED HIGHWAY, ANIMUS or TECHNICAL ECSTASY, perhaps already signaling his approaching adult adieu already foreshadowed with his indie hit THE FLUFFER and only cemented by his festival favorite ECHO PARK, L.A., both co-directed with life partner Richard Glatzer. Not that this first all out comedy he directed under his own name (discounting his likably silly turn at the helm as "Bud Light" on THE DEVIL IS A BOTTOM) since his hilarious Jim Buck vehicle DR. JERKOFF AND MR. HARD could ever be described as a shameful failure. It just happens to be one of those adult films that succeeds so well in certain areas you wouldn't necessarily expect it to like screenplay and acting that you end up wishing it were better at those aspects where it falls relatively flat.
Premise has a video cassette (how retro !) that turns you gay within seven days. After all, once watched, a creepy-voiced phone call informs you as much ! The fun starts with how readily guys buy into this half-baked set-up, never questioning it as an obvious prank. Such is the fate of thick-lipped Jet Set contract boy Josh Hammer who receives a second call at week's end, helpfully telling him "you're gay" ! Best buddy Derec Lang's on hand to test his queerness, first by making him choose between videos of Judy Garland or battling cheerleaders (breathing a sigh of relief when he opts for the latter), then by pushing things further, stripping off his shirt for effect and, well, since his girlfriend's out of town for the night he might as well take advantage of his newly gay friend ! Too bad the ensuing sex between them is fairly routine, bereft of the electricity an actual first time homosexual experience might generate, clearly an instance of this being "just porn". Enter investigating journalist Benny Benson (Swedish hunk Tag Eriksson) who's familiar with the urban legend and jumps at the occasion of studying a test case first-hand. Tracking down the tape's origin to the cabin where all those afflicted appear to have seen it, he goes to view for himself, interrupting hunky owner Vince Taylor during a moodily shot self-pleasuring session. The video itself proves a clever and truly funny send-up of the ominous black and white footage intended to creep you out in an original it spoofs far more successfully than those increasingly tired SCARY MOVIES.
Following a first person account by Chris Klein lookalike Jason Adonis (whose sculpted bodybuilder physique was put to perfect use in Dennis Bell's AMG RESURRECTION), who watched the tape with "pussy hound" (their words, not mine) buddy Sam Tyson, which lead to a considerable deepening of their friendship in a scorcher of a scene, Benny and Josh join forces to solve the mystery before week's end and the scribe turns irrevocably homo, a prospect his partner admits he would welcome, so no prizes for guessing where this narrative's going. Tag performs a tremendous solo of sorts, jacking off in his motel room, tempted by both the male and female model (Adam Killian and T.J. Hart respectively) from the straight skin rag he employed for masturbation inspiration. This sequence shows West at his best, mixing the erotic with the dramatic as his protagonist deals with emotional conflict while fully aroused. Too bad then that the movie slips steeply downhill when a clue leads our heroes to New Mexico for a badly bungled group scene, spearheaded by dusky-skinned dreamboat Jeremy Tucker, devolving into a decent threesome with the rest of the gang listlessly looking on and stroking off. Fortunately, Tag's spirited crossing of the intimate identity line with the pleased as a puppy dog Josh and the cute little kicker that succeeds it end the movie on a high note.
With the exception of Taylor's single guy scene, all of the sex is blasted with bright lighting, virtually dissecting every physical detail to the detriment of the foreboding mood that is most definitely not ported over from the picture it seeks to pastiche. While this shows West's intimate knowledge of his intended audience, it also perhaps reeks of his impending disenchantment with same as limiting to his undeniable film-making talent which may ultimately incorporate him into the mainstream or at least the art-house equivalent thereof. Feeling a lot like his farewell fling to an industry he could no longer work up any enthusiasm for, it is by far the most conventional of his high profile hardcore offerings. That means it's still superior to a vast amount of what's out there even though it must surely rank as a minor disappointment within the impressive Wash West carnal catalog.
Premise has a video cassette (how retro !) that turns you gay within seven days. After all, once watched, a creepy-voiced phone call informs you as much ! The fun starts with how readily guys buy into this half-baked set-up, never questioning it as an obvious prank. Such is the fate of thick-lipped Jet Set contract boy Josh Hammer who receives a second call at week's end, helpfully telling him "you're gay" ! Best buddy Derec Lang's on hand to test his queerness, first by making him choose between videos of Judy Garland or battling cheerleaders (breathing a sigh of relief when he opts for the latter), then by pushing things further, stripping off his shirt for effect and, well, since his girlfriend's out of town for the night he might as well take advantage of his newly gay friend ! Too bad the ensuing sex between them is fairly routine, bereft of the electricity an actual first time homosexual experience might generate, clearly an instance of this being "just porn". Enter investigating journalist Benny Benson (Swedish hunk Tag Eriksson) who's familiar with the urban legend and jumps at the occasion of studying a test case first-hand. Tracking down the tape's origin to the cabin where all those afflicted appear to have seen it, he goes to view for himself, interrupting hunky owner Vince Taylor during a moodily shot self-pleasuring session. The video itself proves a clever and truly funny send-up of the ominous black and white footage intended to creep you out in an original it spoofs far more successfully than those increasingly tired SCARY MOVIES.
Following a first person account by Chris Klein lookalike Jason Adonis (whose sculpted bodybuilder physique was put to perfect use in Dennis Bell's AMG RESURRECTION), who watched the tape with "pussy hound" (their words, not mine) buddy Sam Tyson, which lead to a considerable deepening of their friendship in a scorcher of a scene, Benny and Josh join forces to solve the mystery before week's end and the scribe turns irrevocably homo, a prospect his partner admits he would welcome, so no prizes for guessing where this narrative's going. Tag performs a tremendous solo of sorts, jacking off in his motel room, tempted by both the male and female model (Adam Killian and T.J. Hart respectively) from the straight skin rag he employed for masturbation inspiration. This sequence shows West at his best, mixing the erotic with the dramatic as his protagonist deals with emotional conflict while fully aroused. Too bad then that the movie slips steeply downhill when a clue leads our heroes to New Mexico for a badly bungled group scene, spearheaded by dusky-skinned dreamboat Jeremy Tucker, devolving into a decent threesome with the rest of the gang listlessly looking on and stroking off. Fortunately, Tag's spirited crossing of the intimate identity line with the pleased as a puppy dog Josh and the cute little kicker that succeeds it end the movie on a high note.
With the exception of Taylor's single guy scene, all of the sex is blasted with bright lighting, virtually dissecting every physical detail to the detriment of the foreboding mood that is most definitely not ported over from the picture it seeks to pastiche. While this shows West's intimate knowledge of his intended audience, it also perhaps reeks of his impending disenchantment with same as limiting to his undeniable film-making talent which may ultimately incorporate him into the mainstream or at least the art-house equivalent thereof. Feeling a lot like his farewell fling to an industry he could no longer work up any enthusiasm for, it is by far the most conventional of his high profile hardcore offerings. That means it's still superior to a vast amount of what's out there even though it must surely rank as a minor disappointment within the impressive Wash West carnal catalog.