Gayhood among hustlers

There is unity in gaiety of the macho and pretty boy variety.

This is the premise not necessarily only of the narrative but more of the characters interplay.

It goes without saying that in the company of teenage masseurs spread out in the gross district of the city, there dwells an innate and genuine friendship among them exclusive circle until an outsider Zion (Miguel Odron)—a rich guy, a son of a military general who stows away for some sexcapades or what have you to come to terms with himself—appears one day in search of sexual pleasure inside a movie house where he meets, sits beside Uno (Jomari Angeles) who is always ready for a quick fix for a price, of course, taking advantage of his prey only to find himself falling for him.

The crux of the matter comes out, though, when fellow hustler Miguelito (Gold Aceron) is drugged to death by another gay client that turns the world of the pack upside down. Here Bayani (Argel Saycon) expresses his discomfort and suspicion over the greenhorn who just wants to belong and help but the biggest and sturdiest guy doesn’t easily give in, his distrust takes him to the backseat while giving shaken up camaraderie the frontline when Miguelito finally expires and needs to be brought to his province as desired. Gue’s dead body fits the rectangular bag that unleashes tension every minute of the day until it reaches Bayani’s town celebrating its fiesta only to be rejected by his family.

The ritual of brotherhood, nay, “gayhood” is the best symbol of unity—the finale of the movie after the four had thrown the bag of the corpse to the bonfire.

Like a streaming childhood memory where a playmate marks his tummy with a smoldering firewood as a passage of fraternal acceptance, Uno performs the same to Zion. 

Petersen Vargas has once again proven his binary as a filmmaker—the back-to-back expertise in making a visual project unified the indie and studio requirements with no difference at all.

Give Vargas any genre or material, serene gay or flaunting queer or the hetero love affair and he’ll give you a master plan, a masterpiece.

It’s high time his colleagues, veteran and new, young and old also learn from his diverse sensibilities to come up extraordinary in the ordinary.

The boys in the band are versatile and highly motivated, each scene is a masterful recreation whether sexy or unsexy, boy’s love or girl’s tone as long as the pursuit is solid and liberating.

No, “Some Nights I Feel Like Walking” isn’t a lavender field telenovela abridged or a female somnambulist in a nightie out in the streets but a unisex representation of love and affection. Boy Villasanta