Kyle clare and Tye Olson in Watercolors

A trio of queer films—one of which played at last year’s Frameline Film Fest—open at the Roxie this week. Alas, the titles provide a real mixed bag of thriller, comedy, and drama. 

It’s damning with faint praise to say that the docu-drama Murder in Fashion, about Gianni Versace’s killer Andrew Cunanan, is the best of this mini-fest. Buoyed by an enthusiastic performance by Jonathan Trent (Boy Culture) as Cunanan, this luridly entertaining film opens with the serial killer’s suicide before flashing back to his first face-to-face encounter with Versace in a nightclub. 

In his mind, Cunanan considers himself to be model material, but this 27 year-old hustler who earned handouts by accompanying older, gay men, is, as one character tells him, “living in fantasyland.” Murder in Fashion ascribes Cunanan’s vanity and upbringing, celebrity/Versace worship and failed dreams as the reason for his cold, calculating, serial killer behavior. 

Yet this low-budget film is hardly a penetrating psychological profile of Cunanan; it’s enjoyable gaysploitation that best showcases Trent’s ability to be seductive and shirtless, and then every so often become wildly unhinged and commit murder. (The violence, like the sex, takes place largely off-screen)
The magnetic Trent seems to relish being both pretty and deadly. He even makes a desperate bit of pouring liquor on a magazine cover and licking it off oddly fascinating. Trent captivates in a “what will he do next” kind of way, and viewers are rewarded with ridiculous scenes such as one where a store clerk suggests plastic surgery to the thinks-he’s-fat Cunanan, who responds by doing a laughable series of intense stomach crunches in his hotel room. 

Murder in Fashion also features a subplot about Harry Spalding (James C. Burns), a retired serial killer expert hired by the FBI to find Cunanan.

Larry’s efforts lack any real tension—his character seems to have read ahead in the script to know what’s coming, rather than provide any real accurate profiling—but his scenes suggest the FBI was inept in their handling of the case. 

Such is the level of insight in this mostly unremarkable film.  In fact, were it not for Trent’s charismatic portrayal, there would hardly be much reason to watch Murder in Fashion. 

In the comedy Misconceptions, a devout Christian woman named Miranda (A. J. Cook) gets a message from God that she should be a surrogate mother for Terry (Orlando Jones) and Sandy (David Moscow), an interracial gay couple.  Oh, Lordy! Making matters worse, Miranda’s homophobic husband Parker (David Sutcliffe) is not aware of his wife’s plan, so his discovery of the situation particularly uncomfortable. Tensions may mount when Terry tries to monitor Miranda’s pregnancy, but alas, not humor. 

Misconceptions is about as subtle as well, an outspoken, gay, African-American choreographer in the Bible Belt. And herein lies the problem with this would-be crowd pleaser: the comedy is too broadly played, and the characters on both sides of the culture wars are conceived too simply to warrant any real feeling. Despite this Achilles’ heel, there are some nice moments of Terry bonding (separately) with Parker and Miranda, and the lessons of tolerance spoon fed to the audience are valid. Cook does her best in a thankless role, and Jones, when he’s not channeling Mesach Taylor, is affable as her coconspirator. 

Making an encore presentation in the Bay Area, Watercolors begins as a appealing if unlikely romance between two opposites—the gawky, nerdy, never been kissed David (Tye Olson) and the buff bad boy skater Carter (Kyle Clare) who is frequently in the buff. However, whatever sensitive bond exists between these two high schoolers—who share a secret passionate romance over a weekend together—is thrown out the window when classes begin again on Monday. 

Writer/director David Oliveras overstuffs his plot making Carter an epileptic, drug-abusing swimmer who gets suspensions, cheats on his homework, fights with his discouraging dad, and hides his homosexuality. Meanwhile, David is an overachieving worrywart artist, who gets gay bashed by bullies, comes out to his understanding single mom, and pines for Carter who pushes the effeminate boy away. 

Watercolors certainly captures the pressures teenagers face as they come of age, but Oliveras gilds the lily, giving these characters such trials and tribulations as to strain credibility. A fantasy scene in which Carter and David have sex and it rains indoors is as laughable as Karen Black’s scenes as David’s inspirational art teacher, or Greg Louganis’ acting in the role of Carter’s swim coach. 

Furthermore, the film’s melodrama reaches so many crescendos, it’s hard to take any one of them seriously. Alas, this film, in which the two boys’ parents are both in AA, would actually make a great drinking game—just take a sip every time Clare takes off his clothes or Olsen breaks down crying.