APRIL'S SHOWER

The fact that April's Shower, a tedious, middling "romantic comedy," not only made the cut for this year's Lesbian & Gay Film Festival, but was featured as a centerpiece (i.e. the token girl-movie showcase) shows what a crappy year it is for lesbian cinema. I was ready to give up after my eyeballs rolled across the floor in the first ten minutes. But no, I bucked up and weathered the storm to give you all the scoop.

In two words: Skip it.

The setting is a wedding shower in generic suburbia. All the friends of the bride, who are of course a motley group of "characters" (including the token gay male) are waiting for the woman of the hour, and in the meantime backstabbing and gossiping. Alex, the hostess, seems unusually preoccupied and maybe even a little distraught, hosting this party for her best friend. Or should we say "friend," because you know there are things that have been left unsaid, that April (Maria Cina) will arrive, there will be a big announcement throwing the whole wedding in jeopardy, and all hell will break loose. Raucous partying ensues, people make out with each other hither and thither, the party is crashed by hunky firemen (among others), and you are not quite sure who will end up with each other when the credits roll.

But as interesting as that may sound on paper, I DIDN'T CARE. The acting was average-to-unbearably-forced. The dialogue was stagey and unmemorable. And of course despite the fact that the film was supposedly a comedy, there was too much of the requisite emotional touchy-feely to appeal to the soul-searching that is a seeming requirement of lesbian-penned stories. Blah.

The thing is, I would not be surprised if a lesbian audience will eat this one up. There is such a dearth of lesbian movies, not to mention GOOD lesbian movies, that the community adopts even the most wretchedly dull movies as their own, and praises them to high heaven. But girls, just because it is a gay movie doesn't mean it needs to be embraced. Demand more! Demand better! Throw this one back.