The Gay Bed And Breakfast Of Terror

Making their way to the biggest LGBT Festival of the year, five couples consisting of every gay and lesbian stereotype imaginable stop over at a creepy hotel for the night. Unaware that proprietor Helen (Mari Marks) is a God-fearing homophobic Republican intent on whittling down their numbers, the couples go about their bickering and bitching oblivious to the danger they are in. Helen also plans on de-homosexualising one of her male guests and marrying him off to her bug-eyed daughter Luella (Georgia Jean) – who has a deranged weakness for ‘pretty girls.’ Also contributing to the carnage is Helen’s monstrously deformed mutant son Manfred (Noah Naylor), who likes nothing better than to chow down on tender and nubile gay flesh…

As the title implies in a none too subtle way, The Gay Bed And Breakfast Of Terror is a cheap, exploitative camp-fest that revels in the mire of its own perverse charm. The opening credits sequence, featuring a blonde diva singing ‘Watch Out For The Straights’ sets the tone immediately, and before we know it 40 minutes and much winking and nudging have gone by while we are introduced to the glittering array of characters – distinguishable only by the stock gay/lesbian stereotype they each represent.

Much like 2004’s HellBent, The Gay B&B Of Terror rather fancies itself as being quite subversive in its approach to gay themed horror. Like the latter film however, and as irreverent as it is, B&B of Terror still sticks rigidly to slasher movie conventions. While all of the characters might be gay, they are still every bit as generic, obnoxious, vapid and thinly drawn as their usual heterosexual slasher-fodder counterparts. And just as susceptible to being gorily obliterated in increasingly tensionless set pieces.

A number of darkly comedic moments come courtesy of George Bush baiting jokes – the unhinged proprietor of the titular establishment even has a shrine to the man in her boudoir. In a crafty reference to the Nightmare On Elm Street series, Manfred is revealed to be "The Bastard Son of 100 Republican Convention Delegates" and a gross-out flashback gleefully depicts the conception in gory detail. You know, just in case you couldn’t quite picture it for yourself…

Yes, it’s a film that is all too aware of its B movie status and is all the more enjoyable for roiling in it; however, it doesn’t seem capable of going to any of the extremes it so often hints at and unfortunately never seems to hit its stride. Trying to be too many things at once, it is by turns a delirious camp-fest, an attempt at politically-barbed commentary and a Tobe Hooper-style trawl into backwoods schlock and sadistic mayhem. With added lip gloss and mincemeat muffins.

While there is not a shred of subtly in sight, the film never quite manages to reach the mascara-coated histrionics it strives for. Only Marks as the demented nut-job Helen really stands out and hits the right mark; teetering between genuinely unsettling and thoroughly over-the-top Mommie Dearest-theatrics.

A fun, schlocky romp that never takes itself seriously and does pretty much what you’d expect a film with this sort of title to do.