One film that was not crying out for a sequel was “Eating Out,” the 2005 indie stinker about a straight dude pretending to be gay so he could score with a f*g hag chick. But in a huge surprise, “Eating Out 2: Sloppy Seconds” is the ultimate rarity: a sequel that is miles ahead of its predecessor in every imaginable department.
This go-around, gay college kid Kyle (Jim Verraros) has just broken up with his boyfriend Marc (Brett Chukerman). Kyle wants to land the new hottie on campus, Troy (Marco Dapper), and this new slab of beefcake has also caught the eye of Kyle’s pals Gwen (Emily Brooke Hands) and Tiffani (Rebekah Kochan). But is Troy gay or straight? He confesses to be sexually confused, which somehow winds up with Kyle pretending to be Tiffani’s boyfriend and taking Troy to a campus ex-gay support group as a means of getting closer to him. This gets Marc upset, so he tries to make his move on Troy as a means of getting back at Kyle.
Confused? Yeah, the film makes zero sense. But if logic is absent, it has more than enough laughs and charm to keep things humming along. Even when the movie gets stuck two-thirds of the way through in sitcom-worthy shtick, there is still plenty of cheerful vulgarities and lethal double entendres to stretch the lips from smirks into genuine laughs. Barbs are aimed at both the homo crowd and the hetero set (I especially love Tiffani’s proclamation “From the waist down, it’s all clit!”).
The film also takes to task (albeit in a warped manner) the genuine trauma of young people coming to terms with their sexuality and coming out to those they love. And this is also the rare gay-themed film that actually gives a thumb up to bisexuality (which gets a big laugh when both gays and straights initially declare in shock: “There’s no such thing!”).
The ensemble is in top form, diving into their material with a full-throttle abandon reminiscent of the old “Carry On” comedies from England. The aforementioned actors are all fine, and special kudos are in order for Michael Serrato as a suspiciously non-hetero art teacher (his repeated mentions of a wife never quite hold value), Adrian Quinonez as Octavio, the love-struck Latino who repeatedly has to explain the correct pronunciation of his name, and John Waters’ regular Mink Stole as Kyle’s excessively supportive mother.
Special praise is also in order for Phillip J. Bartel, who makes his directing debut here. If this is any indication, he has a bright comedy film future ahead of him.
