Who's the guy who plays the boxer in this music video? He's pretty hot. We're not really given a good look at him because of the tired old MTV cliches of shifty lens focus and rapid cutting. But we do get an impression of an extremely physical dude with nice muscles and nice skin. The video is handsomely designed to look like Depression-era America, and there's some plot involving a woman who ends up in the arms of another man, but all I ask is one lingering look at the hottie, dammit. It ultimately made me want to comfort the sweaty boxer with a loving embrace.
The important distinction is that "Hubad" in the title is a verb, not an adjective; it means "to strip" and NOT "naked". Plenty of bumping and grinding here, but none of it gets to the point of full exposure.
Such a premise is doomed to be disappointing. Thus, the video hardly satisfies, even though it shows us quite a lot: skin upon skin of about eight lean dancing men spreading themselves all over the floor, turning and twisting, with some great, unprecedented dick-to-dick touching -- under the briefs, of course. In the final segment, there's a quick peek-a-boo of a hefty shaft followed by some charcoal-dark pumping, but it's too little, too late for a climax.
Essentially, Hubad is a conceptual dance performance. Divided into three "lessons" on the how-to's of stripteasing, a group of men will first demonstrate the dance onstage, followed by story-type suggested "applications" for real life -- one application is man-to-man (such as a man seducing a stranger on the alleyway via striptease), another is man-to-woman (such as an office guy seducing an office girl during a slide presentation), but both portions are quite gay anyway. What keeps the stage show less-than-explosive is how mechanical the performances can seem. Because everyone onstage is doing the same thing at the same time, the action doesn't gather primal steam. Robots aren't as sexy as, say, an unpredictable, spontaneous animal moving about as if possessed by his raw instincts. A truly moving sexual dance number seems to require a different kind of energy.
At least there's wall-to-wall eye candy. Johnron Tanada is a star, though his basket appears more menacing (read: big) in the Kanto Boy segment of Provoq than here. A couple of the dancers could be stars too, but this is not the video to do it for them. A star is created by packaging a solid personality, as in the strategy of Provoq, last year's video that launched instant sex idols.
The behind-the-scenes DVD bonus is dirtier and more delighftul. Models rubbing their crotches to get them hard. The camera tracking too close to a model's bulge that it actually hits it. A production staff going "Sarap!" It's the turn-on I was looking for.
I spent the entire film intently observing the teen gorgeousness of Gerald Anderson: the fine hairs of his arms and legs, the (fake) sweat stains on his T-shirt, that disarming face, and for too shortly, nipples that fight through wet T-shirt; it's criminal he doesn't remove that shirt while wading in a pond. The young actor seems to be growing on the skinny side, but he's also approaching the look of an active, brooding hardworker, and I think even without the beef, he's hunkier for it.
The movie hangs on the bullshit conflict of how parents' ancient love affairs threaten the romance of two teenagers linked by college applications, anime, and bicycling. If Gerald Anderson doesn't tickle your fancy, then there really is no point.
Seems my favorite magazine can never go wrong, even though it seems to be running out of fresh concepts. Fine, put coverboy JV Roxas and Marco Gonzales in corny T-shirts, but it's frustrating to not see more of their bodies; I don't care if the boys are a little flabby because that's kind of appealing too. Most of the models in this issue are the youthful winners of the Search For Mr. Valentino 2007 contest, though by now are not exactly new faces anymore. I wish they'd been more imaginative and daring in their poses to compensate.
Speaking of the contest, there's a recap here that makes me drool for more photos or videos of the event. I'm definitely buying whatever is released. Hint, hint.
The centerfold is a nice addition. I'm hungry to see more of the guys' goods though. I wonder why Valentino can't push towards a more all-out direction, instead of settling on a safe, stale plateau. And whatever happened to Coverboy Magazine? Didn't it used to be the "twink" sister of Valentino? I hope it didn't die yet. This twink edition hardly replaces.
What a great trailer. Technically, though, it's not a trailer; it's a "preview clip" or a "teaser" -- whatever difference that makes. But it does the job of a good trailer in a single well-made, abruptly-truncated scene, packing intrigue and mystery and a whole lot of gay sexiness, with a delectable underwear bulge and armpits (by Janvier Daily) and cute twinkish horny-confused reactions (by Jay Aquitania). The scenario is so familiar, it practically taps into a universal homo consciousness. The official trailer (below) is less effective, muddled, and focuses more on the female title character. Boo. If the movie doesn't turn out to be the pulsating modern sexual thriller it promises, at least the teaser is already classic.
Sorry about the blurry picture. This giant billboard, spotted at the South Luzon Expressway, doesn't show skin, but it's all about sex anyway. The model's face -- who is he? -- is pure sex. His grin is seductive but playful. And erect hairstrands inserted through an inverted basketball hoop is also sex. I love it.
In Moreno, Cris Pablo, that trailblazing godfather of gay digital movies, finds the connection between the real-life plight of T'boli women in South Cotabato and the fictional story of one man who suffers from a boyfriend with an itch for multiple sex partners. What's the connection? Polygamy. On a socio-anthropological level, Moreno is an inquiry into the nature and effects of man's mysterious need for more and merrier.
The strange mix of documentary-style ethnographic study and gay domestic melodrama makes for an uneasy viewing. The parallelism remains cerebral and remote. We never do get to see how polygamy in tribal tradition informs modern gay mash-ups or vice versa. The lead character Cris, a scorned lover played warts-and-all courageously by the director himself, journeys through all that trouble only to prove himself righteous in matters of fidelity. The tone is middle-ground too: cold and a little too academic. I do wish it were a sexier film, considering the ready-to-bare actors already on board. Who knew a movie about multiple gay boinking could be so sterile? I guess that's brave, but also a let-down. Maybe the X-rated original version, disapproved by the MTRCB, is a livelier film?
Even with a boom in small, gay-themed films, from Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros to Ang Lalake Sa Parola, and the studio-financed same-same in between such as Zsa Zsa Zaturnnah, Cris Pablo seems to be the only filmmaker today who tackles the "alternative" in alternative lifestyles. As in his first feature Duda, the dillemas in Moreno are the difficult round of gay conflicts. It's not a romantic fantasy in which boy-girl has simply been substituted with boy-boy. The questions -- about open relationships or "May bakla bang monogamous?" -- are mined deep from a very specific gay experience. So far, Cris Pablo is the lone voice of gay dysfunction in urban Philippines. Moreno may lack appeal or entertainment rewards, but in the future, when aliens seek to learn about what plagues homosexual relationships in Metro Manila in the 2000's, we'll point to Duda, Bath House, and this.