Short Takes: ‘The Holiday Exchange’ (2024) ★ 1/2

Does anyone really care whether rich people find love? Like, has anyone kept up at night worrying—about bills, about work, about the next four years—ever spared a thought about Peter Thiel’s love life? I know I haven’t. Though, now that I’m thinking about it, is Peter Thiel even capable of love?* 

Anyway, because Christmas—or rather, because there is a dearth of LGBTQ+ holiday TV movies this year—I decided to check out The Holiday Exchange, which re-teams two of the stars from Shoulder Dance as two rich, attractive gay men who exchange houses when faced with the prospect of spending the holidays single, which, in the world of TV Christmas movies, is tantamount to a pancreatic cancer diagnosis.

In Los Angeles, we have Wilde, played by Taylor Frey, who has recently broken up with his actor/screenwriter boyfriend Sean. Across the pond, Oliver, played by Rick Cosnett, a well-mannered and well-off divorce attorney, has just found out that the man he hoped to spend the holidays with has other plans that pointedly don’t include him. Fortunately, there’s an app to the rescue: Grindr mister B&B. Wilde treats himself to a holiday vacation, and rents Oliver’s cozy manor house in the fictional Brilfax. After a quick FaceTime call, Oliver decides to rent Wilde’s garish Los Angeles mansion. Wilde’s U.K. vacation is interrupted by Oliver’s movie actor cousin Henry (Daniel Garcia), who shows up needing a place to stay after the pipes at his house freeze. Oliver, on the other hand, ingratiates himself with self-help author Julius (Samer Salem) at a book signing. Low-key conflicts arise (Julius is butt-hurt when he learns Oliver is a divorce attorney; Wilde jumps to conclusions when he sees Henry at a pub with another man), but love, Christmas, etcetera.

I promised myself going in that I would give The Holiday Exchange a chance, even though it is directed by Jake Helgren. There’s a scene early on, when Wilde’s ex Sean (Kyle Dean Massey) shows up to discuss their breakup, that has the expected energy of holiday rom-com, as does a later scene featuring Ashley Fink as a spunky bookstore manager. But these moments are mere teaspoons of rum in a what is otherwise a full glass of egg slog. Most attempts at humor fall flat, such as Wilde being locked out of Oliver’s house after a snowstorm, wearing just a scarf and plaid boxer shorts, his motivation for going outside in the first place not readily apparent. Some actors, such as Kyle Richards (as Wilde’s overly supportive mom Lola) and Camila Banus (as Julius’s publicist/friend Naomi), deliver sit-com style performances, talking really fast and loudly, with nothing funny to say. Richards’ performance in particular leaves the impression that Lola is the type of mom who tried to bond with her son by sharing her cocaine.

The Holiday Exchange is more concerned with the rom than the com, anyway, but even there it falters. Cosnett’s Oliver is blandly charming and there is some chemistry between him and Salem, but Frey’s Wilde is spoiled and smug to the point that I was more invested in him getting punched in the face than kissed. However, this holiday lump of coal isn’t entirely Helgren’s fault. He didn’t write this fucker, his leading man Frey did. However, characters doing an ad read for mister B&B? That has Jake Helgren all over it.

*Thiel has a husband, BTW, though being married isn’t the same as being capable of love, so that question remains unanswered.

Off-the-Rails Takes: ‘The Merry Gentlemen’ (2024)

Netflix decided to spice things up for Christmas 2024 and drop a couple “sexy” holiday movies on its platform. One of them is The Merry Gentleman, in which Ashley (Britt Robertson), after being fired from her gig as a lead dancer in a Rockettes-at-half-price revue, the Jingle Belles, returns to the small town of Sycamore Creek where she grew up, discovering that the bar owned by her parents Lily and Stan (Beth Broderick and Michael fuckin’ Gross of Family Ties and Tremors fame) is in serious trouble, like $30,000-in-debt kind of trouble. Were it not for Luke (Chad Michael Murray, his hair almost as hard as his abs), the hot contractor making repairs at the bar out of the kindness of his heart, and Danny (Maxwell Caulfield, having a very different career than his Grease 2 co-star), a retiree spending all his money and free time at the bar, the business would’ve closed its doors months ago. But they can’t hold off property manager/landlord Denise (Maria Canals-Barrera) forever. When she tells Ashley that she’s got a juice bar lined up to move into the space Jan. 1, Ashley says not so fast, her parents will cover the debt with all the money raised from the all-male revue she’s producing, the Merry Gentlemen!

Denise wishes Ashley good luck with that and is off to wait for Ashley’s scheme to fail. “I’ll show that bitch,” Ashley snarls through clenched teeth. “I’ve faced off against tougher rats than her in my Hell’s Kitchen apartment.” She quickly enlists Luke, her brother-in-law Rodger (Marc Anthony Samuel), the bartender Troy (Colt Prattes), and cab driver Ricky (Hector David, Jr.) to help her with her scheme.

“But I can’t dance,” Luke protests.

Ashley laughs derisively. “You think people will want to see you dance? Silly bunny, you won’t be up on that stage to show off your footwork.” Her eyes travel down the length of his body.

Troy pipes up. “Actually, I can dance.”

“Me too,” adds Ricky.

“I’m sure you boys can,” Ashley says with just a trace of condescension. She takes a seat in front of the stage and lights a cigarette. “But”—she raises her voice in a line delivery almost worthy of Christopher Walken—“this is not DANCING WITH THE FUCKING STARS! Now I want you boys up on that stage, mouths shut and cocks out! I need to see what I’m working with.”

Rodger protests, reminding Ashley that he is her brother-in-law, but Ashley is unmoved. So, Rodger heads for the door. “You leave, and I’ll tell Marie (Marla Sokoloff) that you fingered me in the bathroom during your wedding reception,” Ashley says, coldly and calmly. Her words stop Rodger in his tracks. “You know that’s not true!” he gasps.

“Marie doesn’t. And who knows, play your cards right and we might make it true,” Ashley teases. It’s at this moment that Rodger realizes he never really knew his sister-in-law and it’s that not knowing that makes him fearful. He acquiesces to her demands.

The men disrobe and Ashley walks around each one, giving her assessment (“Got a bit a dad bod there, Rog, but some people like that, and the booty is still lookin’ good. Ricky and Troy, no notes. And Luke, talk about poles. Looks like it’s already starting to point north.”)

The rehearsals and scheming then begin. Luke may have two left feet, but he proves to be a useful co-conspirator, telling Ashley that before he moved to the sedate town of Sycamore Creek he lived in Chicago. Or, more specifically. MCC Chicago. “I did five years for drug trafficking. I learned a lot during that time. I learned how not to get caught.”

“And now you’ve caught me,” Ashley swoons, and the two kiss, then make sweet, sweet love atop the bar’s faulty freezer that Luke hasn’t gotten around to fixing.

The opening night arrives. Ashley had encountered some resistance when promoting the show as an all-male revue, but the moment she tells customers the Merry Gentlemen are a troupe of male strippers, everyone’s lining up—some townspeople getting outed in the process. (“Danny, I never knew!” exclaims Marie when she sees the DILF in line at the bar’s front door. “Honey, you think I was coming here for that piss your parents call beer?” Danny scoffs. “I was hoping Troy might find his inner bisexual. I think tonight’s the night!”)

The lights go down and a remix of Cher’s “DJ Play a Christmas Song” begins to play. The men appear on stage, dressed in Santa costumes. At the song’s chorus, the men strip off their red coats. The ladies (and Danny) go wild. A few dollars are thrown onto the stage, but it isn’t until the DJ—Ashley’s dad Stan—tells the crowd that “the more you throw, the more the guys show,” does the audience truly make it rain.

During the performance, Ashley circulates around the bar, offering interested audience members a little snow to go with the poles, a side-hustle proposed by Luke (he’s a keeper!). It’s while she’s selling blow to giddy housewives that Ashley realizes the most enthusiastic member of the audience—more so than Danny, even—is Denise, who frequently rushes the stage to stuff Luke’s shiny red thong with ones and fives, copping feels in the process.

Denise’s fervor gives Ashley an idea, and at intermission she confers with the Merry Gentlemen to solidify her plan. Her plan in place, she finds Denise, a little tipsy from her third mojito, and asks if she’d be interested in meeting the guys backstage. “You can get to know them in a more…intimate setting,” Ashley says, her voice brimming with innuendo. “Will I be alone with them?” Denise asks. “Of course,” Ashley says, fighting back maniacal laughter. This is just too easy!

After the final act, a disco-fied Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer number that concludes with the men stripping down to light-up jockstraps, it’s time for Denise’s private meat n’ greet with the Merry Gentlemen. There’s a brief kerfuffle when Danny tries to crash, but Ashley quickly averts that by offering up Troy. “But I’m not gay!” Troy whines when she pushes him into Danny’s waiting arms. “But you like getting your dick sucked, don’t you?” Ashley snaps. “Just close your eyes.” With the Danny appeased, Denise can enjoy her private time with the three remaining Merry Gentlemen.

Sadly, most of the action happens behind a closed door, with only the occasional filthy whisper or loud moan indicating the action on the other side. The audience isn’t kept outside for long, however, and neither are Ashley and her family, who throw open the door to catch Denise in a very compromising position. Most of the action is out of frame for the sake of the children, but we see enough to figure out who’s sticking what where. (Spit roasted and DP’d. Impressive!). “We have our Christmas card photo!”  Lily singsongs as she walks in recording the action on her smart phone. Denise screams, disentangling herself from the remaining Merry (and Horny) Gentlemen. Marie rushes to her husband Rodger, who’s immediately defensive (“I only let her blow me!”), but Marie puts his fears to rest. “You did it to save my parents’ business, and that’s the best Christmas gift of all.” Meanwhile, Denise, rushing to get dressed, is alternately cursing Ashley and her family and begging for them to destroy the photos. Stan considers Denise’s pleas. “We could do that, for a price. Say, $30,000, with the next six months free?” Denise tearfully agrees.

After Denise leaves weeping into the night, Stan and Lily each put an arm around Ashley. “This is what Christmas is all about: family,” Lily says wistfully. “Now, is there any of that ‘snow’ left?”

OK, I made up most of that shit, but you knew that already. (As if Netflix would spring for the rights to a Cher recording for this thing.) When so little imagination went into The Merry Gentlemen, I just felt compelled to imagine my own movie. Robertson, Samuel, Sokoloff and Caulfield (not playing gay, BTW, because this movie would never dare be that interesting) project the right spirit, but it’s Murray, with his resting my-career-has-come-to-this face, who better embodies the experience of watching The Merry Gentlemen. Despite its “sexy” theme, it’s a by-the-numbers TV holiday movie that’s just going through the motions. ★ 1/2

The Merry Gentlemen is strictly TV-14, but Chad Michael
Murray teases us with some NC-17 bulge.

Throw it Back on the ‘Gaystack’

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Queer Christmas 2022 Gets Sweet n' Sticky

It probably has nothing to do with conservatives getting all worked up over LGBTQs—especially Ts—in 2022 (it’s 2004 all over again!), but there was a dearth of queer-themed holiday movies this year compared to last. Though I only reviewed Single All the Way, 2021 also had The Christmas House 2: Deck Those Halls; Under the Christmas Tree; The Bitch Who Stole Christmas; Love, Classified; Christmas at the Ranch; Christmas on the Farm; and A Jenkins Family Christmas. Christmas 2022 has a paltry three LGBTQ-themed holiday movies (four if you count Falling for Christmas, Lindsay Lohan’s attempt at a soft comeback on Netflix, which I do not).

Though Merry & Gay provided an opportunity to shine a spotlight on some lesbian holiday action and A Christmas to Treasure, a Lifetime movie directed by Jake Helgren, provided low-hanging fruit ripe for picking, I decided to check out Hallmark’s THE HOLIDAY SITTER, starring The Christmas House’s Jonathan Bennett.

But then I learned about another queer holiday movie, Falcon Studios’ CUMMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS. Though I really didn’t want to subscribe to another streaming service, I figured, what the hell, it’s Christmas. Besides, Falcon was having a sale on memberships. How could I resist?

The two movies do have a lot of similarities. Both feature main characters who lead very hectic lives in New York City, played by men who nicely fill out a pair of slacks, though I suspect only one of them is wearing any underwear. In Sitter, Sam (Jonathan Bennett) is a financial adviser to the super rich. “Right now, I’m trying to convince one client not to buy a social media company,” he tells a date at the beginning of the movie. In Cumming, Dan (Dan Saxon) is an attorney working “twenty-four-hour days.” Maybe that’s why he’s so sleepy.

Jonathan Bennett (right) of The Holiday Sitter and Dan Saxon
of Cumming Home for Christmas play very busy men, though
only one appears to be handling the stress well (#edibles).

The characters in both movies visit families living in smaller towns for the holidays, albeit on different coasts and for different reasons. Sam originally planned on spending his holidays in Hawaii, but as he’s packing for his trip, he gets a call from his sister Kathleen (Chelsea Hobbs), asking for a favor. The surrogate with whom she and her husband Nate (Matthew James Dowden) are having a baby has gone into labor a week early. Could he watch his 13-year-nephew Miles (Everette Andres) and 8-year-old niece Dania (Mila Morgan) while they go retrieve their newborn? He’s not their preferred choice, but Mom’s in Italy and Dad’s up at the hunting cabin in Vermont where there’s no cell reception. Sam may be career-obsessed and self-absorbed, but he’s not an asshole, so he reluctantly agrees to watch his niece and nephew, postponing his trip to Hawaii and heading for the New York suburbs.

Dan, on the other hand, travels to sunny California where his brother Trevor (Trevor Brooks) lives in the family home with his partner Dakota (Dakota Payne), simply because he wants to visit. So, clearly, Dan doesn’t need to be guilted into spending time with his family. Maybe that’s because his family, unlike Sam’s in Sitter, doesn’t give him shit about putting so much energy into his career.

Jonathan Bennett smiles bravely as he walks through hell.

Of course, the families in both movies have gone all out for Christmas. Sitter’s fictional suburb of Brayden has an edge simply because it has snow and almost all its residents—all as white as the snow blanketing their town—seem to always be fighting back an urge to sing carols. In sharp contrast, there are hardly any other residents in the un-named town where Cumming is set, and the ones we do meet, while a bit more racially diverse, all appear to have a take-it-or-leave-it attitude towards the holiday, which I fear unfairly plays into conservative beliefs that the godless liberals of California have outlawed celebrating Jesus’ birthday and are mandating gay marriage between the races. However, the people populating both movies—none of whom appear to earn less than six figures—have appropriately and tastefully decked their halls, though the holiday décor of Cumming appears to be a little more upscale, like a Neiman-Marcus Christmas display. The holiday decorations of Brayden, on the other hand, are accessible to any Target shopper.

Jason (George Krissa) kisses his Mr. Right in The Holiday Sitter
while Dan Saxon kisses his Mr. Right Now, Cole Connor, in
Cumming Home for Christmas.

But while everyone in both movies appears to have ample income, not everyone enjoys financial security. Jason (George Krissa), the attractive contractor in Sitter who lives next door to Kathleen and Nate (not Kate n’ Nate, though that seems too precious for Hallmark to pass up so maybe I’m misremembering), is doing alright, but he’ll need additional funds to cover attorney fees if he goes forward with plans to adopt a child in the coming year. This need for extra cash is why Jason accepts Sam’s offer to hire him as a “co-nanny. Or manny.” Also, Jason has a bit of crush on Sam, the power of boners making him deaf to cringe portmanteaus.

The financial concerns are a bit more dire in Cumming. Trevor tells Dan that the family bakery is not doing well and could close its doors for good if business doesn’t pick up before Christmas. A bigger, corporate bakery is already angling to buy them out, cheap. As in Sitter, help comes from outside the family unit, in the muscular form of Dan’s high school boyfriend DeAngelo Jackson, played by—you guessed it—DeAngelo Jackson. Though Dan is initially reticent about getting back together with DeAngelo, he soon lets him back into his life. When Dan tells DeAngelo about the plight of the family bakery, his former-soon-to-be-current beau offers to help, arranging a meeting between DeAngelo’s friend Isaiah Taye, who “runs a bunch of restaurants in the area,” and Dakota.

Dakota is a shrewder negotiator than Trevor.

The kitchen figures in the narratives of both movies as well. Sitter establishes that Sam is not much of a cook, the movie frequently referencing the last time he babysat Miles and Dania and nearly burned down Kathleen and Nate’s house (he burned a fucking omelet, but that was enough for Kathleen and Nate to file an insurance claim, apparently). However, after Jason, who’s a fabulous cook, teaches Sam how to squirt Redi-Wip on pancakes, Sam’s suddenly whipping up a whole breakfast buffet, complete with vegan options.

Which is about as believable as the movie’s assertion those
muffins are homemade.

Meanwhile, in Cumming, DeAngelo assists Dan in the kitchen when (spoiler alert!) Isaiah Taye orders a thousand holiday cookies to serve in his restaurants. Why is the attorney being tasked with fulfilling this order and not his brother or Dakota—you know, the guys who actually run the bakery? Well, because Trevor and Dakota “have some making up to do in the bedroom.” This casual disregard for overseeing operations gives the audience insight as to why their bakery was failing to begin with. Alas, leaving Dan and DeAngelo unsupervised further jeopardizes the bakery’s future. At least when Sam finally declares his love for Jason, he has the courtesy to do so in a fashion that does not get pubes in his family’s Christmas morning breakfast.

The lawsuits alone will finish this bakery once clients discover
where the butter has been.

Who Christmases Best?

TV holiday movies are so formulaic that whether they feature CisHet or queer leads, Whites or people of color, you pretty much know what you’re in for and The Holiday Sitter and Cumming Home for Christmas are no exception. Both exist in a fantasy world where all problems, be they personal or financial, are easily solved with a Christmas miracle. The Sitter at least takes a moment to acknowledge the realities of gay life, albeit mildly, as when Sam tells Kathleen about why he’s never considered fatherhood: “You’ve known your whole life that marriage and kids were at least an option. That hasn’t been my experience.”

Yet, while Falcon gets props for casting people of color in Cumming Home for Christmas, it makes no mention of LGBTQ’s historic struggles to get the rights to marry and to adopt, instead perpetuating the myth that the only hardship a gay man faces is having to decide which hot guy to fuck and when. Well, that has not been my experience, Falcon Studios. On the other hand, it was refreshing to see a queer storyline in the 2020s that didn’t feel beholden to hetero-normative values. As John Waters once observed, not having kids is one of the privileges of being gay.

The subtle acting style of Jonathan Bennett.

Both The Holiday Sitter and Cumming Home for Christmas have strong production values, with Sitter feeling a bit more TV bound (please don’t judge the cinematography on the shitty SD stills in this post) while Cumming directors Steve Cruz and Ben Rush give their movie a more vibrant, cinematic feel. Alas, when it comes to acting, Sitter is the hands-down winner, though only Bennett truly shines (Bennett also has a story credit and was one of The Holiday Sitter’s executive producers, so this may be by design). He mugs shamelessly, but he still makes for a charming lead. Though there are a couple standout performances in Cumming Home for Christmas (Dakota Payne and Cole Connor, in a bit part as one of Dan’s hookups), most of the cast are so wooden you could use them for tentpoles. Dan Saxon has beautiful eyes and a sweet smile, but you’ll never believe for a moment that he has a job that requires an advanced degree.

Cade Maddox and Taylor Reign make
ATM festive (but no less disgusting)
for the holidays.

Of course, how can audiences expect Emmy (or Grabby) winning acting when both movies trade in cliches, with characters so blandly written that you barely remember them (this might be why Cumming’s screenwriter Rush just has the performers’ names double as character names). There are a few attempts early in Cumming to suggest it will be campy fun (Dakota: “I thought the main characters couldn’t even kiss until the last frame of these holiday greeting card movies.” Trevor: “But did anyone ever say no anal in act one?”), but that’s quickly dropped once the fucking starts, and then it’s the same ol’ “suck that big dick” drivel we’ve heard time and time again. That said, I would adopt a child just so I could sacrifice it if George Krissa were to gasp, “Oh, I love your hole,” before burying his face in Bennett’s ass, just as Dakota Payne does before giving Trevor Brooks a toe-curling rim job in Cumming.

Ultimately, for all their similarities, The Holiday Sitter is the better of the two queer Christmas movies. However, Cumming Home for Christmas does set itself apart in one important way: it’s likely one of the few Christmas movies you’ll see this year to feature candy cane butt play.

Your move, Hallmark.

A Gay Glucose Drip for Christmas with a Booger Sugar Chaser

My husband had this to say about Christmas movies: “You can go schmaltzy or take the piss out of the holiday. Neither the twain shall meet.” Though there have been a few exceptions (A Christmas Story, kind of), he’s right. As far as holiday movies are concerned, Christmas is a time of either sugary sentimentality or unbridled debauchery (or terror), no mixing.

Now that holiday movies are trying to be a little more inclusive—and I stress a little— studios might also want to try to combine sappy and the cynical. And who better to tie the nice, the gaudy and the naughty into one fabulous bow than the queer community? I’d hoped that maybe, just maybe, the Netflix movie SINGLE ALL THE WAY would be the one to break down this barrier between the sentimental and the salacious.

I took the inclusion of Kathy Najimy and Jennifer Coolidge in Single All the Way’s cast as a good sign, and though I’ve been burned by Netflix queer content before (the platform’s 2019 version of Tales of the City qualifies as a hate crime, against Laura Linney if not LGBTQs), I held out hope that since Netflix wasn’t bound by the same restraints as the Hallmark Channel, its queer holiday movie would at least spike its eggnog.

The opening scene suggests this gay Christmas might be
a little sexier.

Netflix decided to go another way, which is to say they decided to go the same way: same as Hallmark, same as Lifetime.

Michael Urie tries his best to act against
Tim Lund’s wig-like hair.

Peter (Michael Urie) lives in Los Angeles where he works for a social media marketing company though his true passion is plants (he has a separate Instagram account dedicated to them). For the first time in a long time Peter is genuinely excited about visiting his family in New Hampshire. Why? Because he’s finally bringing home a boyfriend—a doctor no less (“What do I have to do to get cardiac arrested?” swoons one of Peter’s colleagues when the doctor makes his entrance to a plaid-themed Christmas party). But marriage to the doctor is out of the question, especially once Peter learns the doctor is already married. To a woman. Now Peter will have to return home single once again, and after he’s hinted to his family that he’s bringing back a “surprise.”

Instead, Peter convinces his roommate Nick (Philemon Chambers) to come home with him and pretend to be his new beau. Nick is understandably reluctant, first claiming he’s looking forward to having a Christmas staycation, then saying he doesn’t want to dip into his savings to buy a plane ticket (both valid reasons). Peter counters with rapid exposition: he doesn’t want Nick to be alone with his memories of his recently deceased mother, and as for Nick’s finances, he has the money he got from publishing a children’s book about his dog, Emmett. “Now you have all this money in the bank that you’re saving for a rainy day. And look—” Nick gestures at his own anguished visage—“it’s pouring.”

Philemon Chambers mimics my reaction to Single All
the Way’s dialog.

Movie premise established, Peter and Nick head to New Hampshire, where they’re greeted by Peter’s mom Carole (Najimy, doing her best with what’s she’s given), who not only insists on being called Christmas Carole for the month of December but also occupies herself making signs with cute/inspiring sayings, the kind that are derided in Progressive commercials.

Kathy Najimy’s face hidden to protect her dignity.

Before Peter can spring the news that he and Nick are a (pretend) couple, Carole (I refuse to call her Christmas Carole, and Netflix can’t do shit about it) springs a surprise of her own. It turns out her spin class instructor James is gay and single, so she has set the two up on a blind date! Peter is understandably horrified, but that’s before he meets James, who is played by Luke Macfarlane.

“I don’t care if my mom is standing there, I will suck your cock
right now!”

But while Peter is rapidly warming up to being a real boyfriend to James, his teenaged nieces (Madison Brydges and Alexandra Beaton, their performances actually more palatable than I expected them to be) think he and Nick are a better match. Peter’s dad (Barry Bostwick) would also like Nick as a son-in-law, though I suspected he might prefer keeping Peter’s hot roommate to himself. Seriously, I think Peter’s dad wants to fuck Nick, though I may be reading too much into Dad’s cajoling Nick to go down into the basement with him to fix a pipe.

OK, he meant that literally, but I still felt the heat
between these two.

The nieces—with the help of their parents (Schitt’s Creek’s Jennifer Robertson and Victor Andres Turgeon-Trelles) and, of course, Grandpa—make it their mission to gently sabotage Peter’s relationship with James. They needn’t bother, as Peter seems to be doing a good job of auto-cockblocking, fending off James’ invitations to go back to his place because of lame plot contrivances. 

Regretfully, Single All the Way doesn’t take this opportunity to
make a facial joke.

Meanwhile, there’s a subplot involving a Christmas pageant written and directed by Aunt Sandy (Coolidge), an actress whose career high was being Ellen Greene’s understudy in Little Shop of Horrors. It’s this pageant, weirdly, that bridges the dueling efforts to meddle in Peter’s love life, shoveling the snow off the movie’s path as it slides toward a predictably happy ending.

I spent the first thirty minutes of Single All the Way groaning and rolling my eyes at the obvious jokes (old people struggling with their smartphones; referring to HGTV as the “Homosexual Gay” network; “Christmas Carole”), but the movie eventually won me over as it went along. 

The moment I was won over.

The movie is basically a feature-length syndicated sit-com, and most of the performances are pitched accordingly, meaning most of the cast displays Kelly-and-Ryan-on-meth levels of enthusiasm, though a few (Chambers, Macfarlane, Bostwick) favor of a more grounded approach. Coolidge, as always, is in a class by herself, but her scene-stealing potential is squandered by a script that is too beholden to a TV-PG rating, reducing her Aunt Sandy to little more than a sight gag.

And Bette Midler impersonator.

Netflix gets points for casting gay actors (all three male leads are out IRL), as well as presenting interracial dating as the non-issue it should be. Had it remained a gay version of a Christmas fake engagement movie (and, goddamn, are there a lot of them), Single All the Way might have held its own. But it more closely resembles Lifetime’s The Christmas Setup, and it suffers from the comparison, failing to have half the charm of that movie. While Single All the Way is a pretty good approximation of a Hallmark/Lifetime Christmas movie, considering all the holiday movies those two channels churn out one would think Netflix would want to do something different to distinguish itself. Oh, well. At least we can watch it with our parents without fear of any uncomfortable conversations.

“What is felching?”

Straight Christmas Cynicism

After watching Single All the Way, I immediately wanted to watch something cynical to cut the sweetness, so I watched Zach Clark’s 2013 black comedy WHITE REINDEER. 

Single All the Way also gave me a strong desire to subscribe
to Noir Male, but I guess that’s not Christmas-y
enough for this post.

Jeff gives Suzanne an excuse to buy Hawaiian
Christmas CDs.

Washington, D.C.-area real estate agent Suzanne Barrington (Anna Margaret Hollyman) loves Christmas in a way only a woman with the middle name Noel can. And at the start of White Reindeer, Suzanne’s Christmas is set to be an especially merry one: she sells a house in her neighborhood to a charming young couple, George and Patti (Joe Swanberg and Lydia Hyslop), then, after a pre-dinner fuck, her TV weatherman husband Jeff (Nathan Williams) surprises Suzanne with the news that he got a job at a station in Hawaii.

But Suzanne’s dreams of a holiday luau end abruptly when she returns home from Christmas shopping to discover her home ransacked and her husband’s brains splattered across the floor. She’s still in the early stages of grief when one of her husband’s colleagues, wracked with guilt, reveals that Jeff was having an affair with a stripper named Autumn, who worked at a club near the TV station.

Autumn meets her lover’s widow.

Suzanne goes to the club confront Autumn (Laura Lemar-Goldsboro in her only film role), except their interaction isn’t confrontational. Suzanne is more curious about the other woman than angry with her. Suzanne quickly bonds with Jeff’s lover, joining her and the other strippers for coke-fueled nights clubbing and going on shoplifting sprees at Macy’s during the day. They even get close enough for Autumn to share her real name: “Autumn is my stripper name. My real name is Fantasia.”

The high holidays.

Partying with strippers isn’t Suzanne’s only diversion from her grief. She spends thousands of dollars shopping online. She also angles for an invite to George and Patti’s housewarming party and attends even after she learns it’s not your typical holiday soiree.

Unless you’re Thomas Middleditch.

Though she’s game, sex with strangers isn’t as much fun as Suzanne hoped it would be. I’ve never been to a swingers’ party, but I suspect White Reindeer’s portrayal, which includes guests standing naked around the kitchen discussing one of their children’s struggles with little league, is closer to the unsexy reality.

The party always ends up in the kitchen.

But getting pounded by George while blowing a roly-poly guy with erection issues isn’t Suzanne’s rock bottom. No, what sends Suzanne crashing back to earth is discovering her credit cards are maxed out from her indiscriminate spending.

Though a few other things happen on the way down.

Hollyman is perfect as Suzanne, portraying her character with the right mix of optimism, despair and cluelessness one would expect from an upper-middle class white woman whose world is crashing down around her. Likewise, Lemar-Goldsboro’s Autumn/Fantasia is quietly tough, a woman who has dealt with enough shit by her early twenties that she’s unfazed by whatever shitstorm comes her way. The two actresses play well off each other, both deadpan but far from wooden. 

Suzanne is determined to have the best Christmas
money can buy.

White Reindeer is, as far as I’m concerned, a holiday classic. It fits neatly in the empty space left when I had to banish The Ref to the same purgatory where all the other Kevin Spacey movies I’ve enjoyed now reside. White Reindeer is a bit rough around the edges due to its limited budget, and some of its humor can be a bit cringey (Suzanne to Autumn/Fantasia’s mother: “Oh, you look pretty healthy for somebody on disability”), as well as kind of juvenile (Suzanne sniffing her own fart), but it always had me laughing. Given the past couple of years, I found it much easier to relate to Suzanne processing her grief in unhealthy ways than Peter’s deciding which hot man he wanted to be his boyfriend. I’m all for holiday escapism, but maybe next year Netflix could give us something we could watch with Family instead of with our families.

In this Case, ‘Watchable’ is High Praise

Don’t be dissuaded by the text, “A Rob
Williams Film.”

I wanted to churn out one more post before the year ended*, so I went on Tubi and entered the search term “New Year’s.” From those results I picked the 2013 indie horror movie, Antisocial, about a group of college students attending a New Year’s Eve party just as an epidemic is sweeping the globe, like, all of a sudden. The virus was of the zombie-creating variety because 2013, but otherwise a movie about a New Year’s celebration derailed by an epidemic seemed ideally suited for 2020. Also, the title spoke to me.

Then I checked out the external reviews on IMDb and saw that plenty of other people had already reviewed this movie, and that my lil’ ol’ blog would likely get lost in that long list of other blogs. So, I passed on zombie horror in favor for the gay holiday comedy SHARED ROOMS, a choice made with such haste that I didn’t even notice that I’d selected a Rob Williams movie. Well, I knew this day would come eventually.

In all fairness, Rob Williams isn’t the worst writer-director to pick up a digital camera. Even his weakest movies aren’t as bad as the works of Jeff London, or that Tommy Wiseau of gay cinema, Sam Mraovich (that said, Ben & Arthur is a must-see for fans of bad movies, regardless of how one identifies sexually). But his earlier movies — Long-Term Relationship and Back Soon — left me hoping that before Williams made any more films he might consider taking some classes in how that’s done.

Well, maybe he did. Williams showed marked improvement with his 2010 romance Role/Play, and Shared Rooms is better still. Keep in mind, though, that the bar Williams needed to clear is pretty low. 

Shared Rooms follows the three different sets of gay Los Angelenos during the week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve of a much happier time (2016, presumably, the same year this movie was released; alas, we still can’t escape a reference to the soon-to-be-former-President of the United States). The movie opens with Cal (Alec Manly Wilson) and his screenwriter husband Laslo (Christopher Grant Pearson), making catty comments to their dinner guests about mutual friends who have adopted a baby. “They go from gay dates to play dates,” Cal quips. Their guests, Blake and Ivan (respectively Eric Allen Smith and Christopher Patrino, both men mugging so hard they risk popping blood vessels) then sheepishly announce that they’re having a baby through a surrogate. (“We’re pregnant!”) 

The nuanced acting of Eric Allen Smith and
Christopher Patrino. 

 

 

Woodstock becomes a real boy!

Later that evening, Cal and Laslo reaffirm their commitment to remain childless. “But,” Cal adds, “we can keep trying the old fashioned way.” As fate and plot devices would have it, however, the couple must reconsider their decision to give fatherhood a pass when Cal’s 17-year-old gay nephew Zeke (twitchy Ryan Weldon) shows up on their front doorstep, kicked out by his mother for being an “abomination.” Cal, who’s sister’s homophobia lead her to cut him from her life before Zeke was born, feels the teen is owed a safe space. Plus, the boy can whip up an all-the-carbs-you-can-eat breakfast in no time. (Seriously, movie, coffee cake, stacks of toast and pillars of pancakes? Even Honey Boo Boo would consider that excessive.)

If your breakfast for three can’t be shown in a single
shot, you’re eating too goddamn much.

Elsewhere, Cal and Laslo’s accountant, Julian (Daniel Lipshutz), is entertaining lanky, salt-and-pepper stud Frank (David Vaughn). Frank is not Julian’s date, as it first appears, but a paying guest, renting Julian’s roommate’s room (unbeknownst to the roommate, naturally) while he’s out of town on business. That said, Julian is quite eager to provide Frank with some extra personal service, if Frank would just pick up on the signals.

Julian’s signals aren’t exactly ambiguous.

But then the roommate, Dylan (Robert Werner), returns much earlier than expected, complicating Julian’s plans to seduce Frank, to say nothing of his clandestine subletting scheme. Dylan’s pissed that his room is being rented to strangers (“You call them strangers, I call them customers,” Julian says), though not nearly as angry as he should be. It turns out Dylan’s harbored a secret crush on Julian ever since they moved in together. Being forced to share a bed with Julian for a week might be what it takes for his deceptive roomie to see him as more than one half of the rent payment. Personally, I found Julian’s charms to be strictly physical (as played by Lipshutz, Julian is so oily it’s a safe bet he’s embezzling from his clients), but then Dylan wouldn’t be the first gay man to let a nice ass cloud his judgment.

Dylan considers a midnight snack.

Finally, there is Sid (Justin Xavier Smith, delivering every line in a mocking drone), who has arranged a Christmas hook-up with Dylan’s ex, Gray (yet another actor with three names, Alex Neil Miller), through the Grindr-like app Manhandler (or is it Manhandlr?). Sid is so eager to get down to business that he greets Gray in all his full frontal glory, and quickly helps his sultry-voiced trick out of his clothes, giving us another penis to admire, albeit briefly. The pair remain naked for most of the movie as Gray stays for a second round, then a third, and ultimately until New Year’s Eve. When the couple isn’t fucking they’re discussing David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, (“I read every chapter, every footnote, every end note, and I can’t even begin to tell you what it is about,” says Gray), spirituality (Sid believes in God; Gray’s an atheist), and Americans’ hypocritical attitudes about nudity (Sid tells of an actor friend who refuses to do full frontal nudity for acting roles but posts dick pics on Manhandler). These conversations, plus more personal revelations, soon transform their impersonal sexual encounter into a full-fledged relationship.

Justin Xavier Smith and Alex Neil Miller go
full frontal early but not often.

The three storylines converge at Cal and Laslo’s New Year’s Steve-Not-Eve Party, where Williams doesn’t tie things up with a big red ribbon so much as slap one of those dollar store self-adhesive bows on top before wishing us a Happy New Year. 

Laslo and Cal toast the conclusion of Shared Rooms.

Still Room for Improvement

As I said, Shared Rooms is one of Williams’ better movies. Unlike the aforementioned Long-Term Relationship, Shared Rooms almost manages to pass itself off as a made-for-TV movie rather than the work of a beginning YouTuber. The issues with pacing, tone and acting that plague his earlier movies aren’t as abundant this time out. Though the movie has its sluggish moments, particularly during the Sid and Gray scenes, it makes more efficient use of its 75-minute runtime. There are fewer tonal shifts, too, though the Zeke storyline threatens to take this bubbly gay rom-com into turgid melodrama territory, but thankfully Williams settles on letting it become A Very Special Episode with jokes about butt fucking.

Alex Neil Miller’s hair is on purpose, apparently.

It’s the cast who get the most credit for making Shared Rooms pleasant viewing. Wilson and Pearson are well matched, making their characters believable as a couple as well as funny. Pearson’s mocking the script he’s writing for a Lifetime-esque Christmas movie is a particular high point (“And the award goes to…something other than this crap.”) Werner and Miller were also standouts, as much for their persistent bed heads as their acting. What did they do that caused hair and makeup to refuse brushing their unruly mops, I wonder?

Just because this is one of Williams’ stronger films doesn’t mean the director has fully overcome his weaknesses, however. Though his script has plenty of funny moments, it has just as many hack jokes (“That’s what he said.”) that even his best actors can’t save. Williams also continues to be way too reliant on contrived situations, being especially fond of characters withholding information for dramatic/comedic effect, e.g., Zeke’s inability to make direct statements about, well, pretty much every fucking thing, be it his identity or his underwear preferences (yet freely sharing that he’s a bottom). Williams isn’t the first screenwriter to resort to hack jokes and plot contrivances, of course, but they don’t do his movie any favors.  

This looks sweet, but it’s a totally impractical way
to watch a movie. Does Sid not own a TV?

Still, it’s good to see Williams is learning from his past mistakes. As it stands, Shared Rooms is a pleasant little gay rom-com, with enough laughs and gratuitous nudity to put one in a forgiving mood when confronted by its shortcomings. It’s not essential viewing, but it’s watchable, and for a Rob Williams movie, watchable is high praise.

*A goal I obviously failed to achieve. Happy 2021, regardless.