It may surprise you to know that I still give Cris Pablo the benefit of the doubt every time I walk into a theater playing one of his films. While he’s never produced anything more than flimsy excuses for projecting nubile young male bodies up on screen, I figure that no one can be so immersed in filmmaking without gaining some sort of respect for the craft. Even if no talent is present, some respect for the craft of filmmaking often results in something that’s at least watchable. Add to that some yearning to tell a personal story, and you’ve got a recipe for a film that might have a unique insight into this world we’re living in.

Of course, when I’m inevitably disappointed, I have no one but myself to blame. Campus Crush proves to be yet another flimsy excuse to project nubile young male bodies up on screen, with no care or respect provided for the craft of the art form that he’s working in. I really ought to know better by now. I guess I’m just an optimist.

To be fair, this film is shot better than any of his previous films. It still isn’t great, but at least some thought appears to have been put into the composition and depth of his shots. That’s the extent of the praise that this film deserves. The rest of it is just as terrible as anyone would expect. There isn’t much point to harping on the technical deficiencies of this film, but it must be said that when you can hear the director’s instructions to the actors on the sound mix, that isn’t a technical problem anymore. That’s just incompetence.

There’s an inkling of a narrative here, something about a bunch of hunky college boys taking a bet for their school’s equality week to see who can make the biggest loser the happiest. There’s a young nerdy gay boy named Cris (played by Joeffrey Javier) who gains the attention of his longtime crush, Edge. It might be noted that this all seems like a Mary-Sue fiction, the main character (named Cris) a paragon of virtue in a world where every man can be bought for the price of an iPhone. His mother accepts his lifestyle and he gets the guy he’s in love with. Along the way, many naked bodies are seen, much oral sex is given, and no one acts in any way a real person would.

Everyone’s allowed to indulge his or her fantasies, of course, but it rarely makes for good cinema. Bringing those fantasies into the cinema with no care for the craft and expecting people to pay for it is kind of obscene. Of course, the argument will be made that Pablo is simply playing to an audience, one whose wallets spring open at the mere mention of naked young men. The strange, narcissistic dimension to his stories indicate otherwise, but if it is true, then the film is even more worthy of disdain.

Because while we might enter the cinema expecting the best out of people, Pablo makes films with the worst of us in mind, his films barely stuck together with spit and tape, and a sense of aggressive condescension towards his audience. With every film he makes, he spits in the eye of his audience, telling them that they deserve no better than the garbage he creates. Because it doesn’t take much to make sure that you can’t hear people talking off screen. Or to have a measure of continuity between shots. Or to get actors to talk like human beings. But that is too much effort for what he’s making. Cut to some naked buttocks. Let some guys take a shower together. That’s all you really need. My Rating: