Saw But I'm a Cheerleader (1999), a very fun, campy film about a cheerleader who is sent off to a gay conversion camp to learn to be straight. Despite the grim premise, the film quickly reassures us by having the conversion camp be some kind of brightly-colored, plastic-wrapped bizarro-land that can only mean a satire. Sure enough, the male camp counselor is in love with the handyman, the son of the woman who runs the place prances about in a tank top and booty shorts, it's a romp!
I found the film really touching. The central cheerleader girl doesn't even realize she's gay at first. Over time she comes to accept herself and develops an adorable crush, with sidelong glances and tentative hand-touching, it's all so sweet!
And although it is sweet and funny, the film makes no bones about this being the best of a shitty situation. These poor kids are being forced to fake a life they have no interest in for the worst reasons: satisfying overbearing parents, shame, guilt. They are clearly not happy with themselves or the roles they are being forced to play. We see glimpses of gay life outside of the camp and it's more free, but even this is a ghetto, populated by disowned children and elder gays who are making do. The beauty of the central romance and the fragility of it make it feel so poignant to me.
I've said before that gay romances feel a little too personal to me, a little like the volume is up too high. I think this is one of those cases. This is a fun, campy comedy which touches on real issues, but not in any very upsetting ways. But watching it, I felt like love and romance is already difficult enough. Why do these poor kids have to have such roadblocks thrown in their way? It makes me melancholy.
