House Of Boys

I felt somewhat conflicted by the time the credits rolled. Because the AIDS crisis has been depicted on screen so frequently, complete with all its inherent dramatic weight, a film must offer a fresh perspective to truly distinguish itself. While I recognize this is an older production, it fails to provide much in the way of new insight. Once act two begins, the writing descends into heavy melodrama, creating a shift so jarring that it feels as though a different movie has taken over halfway through compared to act one.

Starting in 1984, the narrative follows Frank, a confident teenage boy who is openly gay and perpetually seeking sexual encounters. After his father demands he remove the gay stickers from his car, Frank decides to pack his bags and move to Amsterdam with some friends. He is abandoned by those friends almost immediately, leaving him both homeless and penniless, until he discovers House of Boys, a club where the performers reside on the premises. Thanks to his swagger and physical appearance, he secures a spot there; as he begins performing, he finally experiences a sense of belonging. While he is attracted to nearly every man in the house, it is his roommate Jake who truly captivates him, despite Jake’s constant insistence that he is straight and has a girlfriend back home. Frank continues to perform while circling Jake, and the dynamic changes after Jake’s girlfriend steals his money and leaves him devastated. Frank provides comfort during this time, and as Jake slowly begins to open up, the two eventually become a couple. Everything changes abruptly when Jake is involved in an accident, is hospitalized, and emerges with an AIDS diagnosis. Because the club asks him to leave, he and Frank move in together, and the latter half of the film focuses on Frank caring for a rapidly declining Jake, supported throughout by a devoted doctor and nurse. Their circle of friends eventually rallies around them as well, showing up to support Jake and stand by Frank. The story concludes with Frank traveling to Morocco—a destination Jake always wanted to visit—to scatter his ashes into the sea at sunset.

The issue with this movie isn’t that either half is inherently bad; rather, the tonal disconnect is so severe that it feels like two distinct short films glued together instead of a single, cohesive story. The entire production is carried by the actor playing Frank, who radiates presence on screen with a charismatic, sexy, and energetic performance that is simply fun to watch. Jake, conversely, did nothing for me, leaving me struggling to understand what Frank saw in him, even if both the character and the performance were fine. I also don’t see the purpose of setting this in Amsterdam, as the story could have taken place anywhere in the US without any changes, especially since every character speaks flawless English. Ultimately, the screenplay is the real problem, as it is stuffed with the same one-note gay stereotypes seen a thousand times, with every beat underlined by clunky dialogue. For a story like this to land, you have to actually feel something for the characters so that the death at the end actually hits, but that connection never materialized for me. It ends up playing like a passion project made for TV—full of heart and ambition, but lacking the budget or skill to pull it off. (5/10)