Excellent, Without a doubt!!

Admirable film.

A Masterpiece!

The joyful confection is coated in a sparkly gloss, bright enough to gleam from the darkest, most cynical corners.

...and not the later "Serial Mom" stuff, but rather the much earlier, extremely low-budget schlocky shock-fare such as "Pink Flamingos". As has been stated here previously, whenever you have a writer/director/actor attempting to showcase their "talent" (see: lack thereof) you are usually in for some self-indulgent, cringe-worthy moments-- and LaBruce absolutely delivers. As this was done in the 90s before the advent of the digital media age, one can almost forgive the poor sound quality, "off" editing and low-quality shots in general...almost. Unfortunately there is no strong script, acting or dialogue to offset this "low budget" feel. The film almost seems like it was made as an inside joke for a close circle of friends of LaBruce, who consistently told him "you're so funny, you should totally make a movie about that!" Well...he did...and cinematography is all the poorer for it.

If you enjoy stories based on ridiculous premises; if you're a devotee of deplorable acting; if you get a kick out of seeing naked men who, for the most part, would be best filmed in really dim lighting, this is the movie for you. The lead character is reasonably good, but most of the supporting cast seem to specialize in over-acting while spending their time unsuccessfully searching for ways to speak that don't sound like Nathan Lane and Martin Short trying to be too camp.Reminds me of porn produced 40 years ago with modest improvements in the technical results.

A campy crime/love story intersects with random vignettes from the lives of various hustlers on Santa Monica boulevard. The protagonist, a pretty and altogether amoral dumbster hustler, robs a hippy trick and steals his car, running over and maiming a skinhead in the process. A prissy writer comes to the city and becomes obsessed with the same hustler. They get together, talk about the history of hustling on the boulevard and end up snogging on the beach (after a near fatal jacuzzi accident & miraculous resurrection). The surrounding vignettes are more outré, with a singing cowboy saddling and riding a young stud, s&m mortician snuffing out an amputee and a white twink "raped" by half a dozen hung black men. All in a day's work seems to be the moral.A postmodern plunge into some pretty disconnected lives, with references to Warhol, Baby Jane and Sunset Boulevard thrown in for good measure.

In HW, the always-entertaining Bruce la Bruce has produced his most appealing film to date by far. Model and former Madonna boy-toy Tony Ward is sweet and funny as Monty, the object of ice-queen film-maker Jurgen Anger's (played by la Bruce) instant love. The graphic, fetishistic sexual encounters of Santa Monica Boulevard hustlers and their johns are merely clever sidebars to the main story of Monty and Jurgen's collaboration and romance. HW is far too bizarre for mainstream moviegoers; a pity, as its themes are universal and their exposition right on target.