Gay Movies Blog

Posts Tagged ‘Frank Schmitt’

I’ve Got A Serious Fever For Fire Island

Monday, June 8th, 2015

Fire Island Fever: A state of perpetual horniness accompanied by a total lack of scruples.” This is the premise of the iconic film bearing the same title, Fire Island Fever. Premiering in 1979, the picture would catapult the fabled isle into something more than just a destination, it would cement itself into the gay lexicon, and it would change the way we watch pornography in many, many ways.

The season has started; now it’s time to pack it in early for those long weekends away from the office and the city. As the temperatures rise and the canyons of concrete, glass, and steel become unbearable, we all long to get away. Up to the woods for a bear rendezvous? Down the shore for a little gambling? Out on the lake for some boating and fishing? Perhaps the river where one can make a splash from a rope swing, or drift lazily on an inner tube? Then again, don’t you just wish there was a magical island overrun with ready and willing men?

Well, it still exists, and it can be found just beyond New York City. Fire Island has been a summer Mecca for the gay community, perhaps the first of the seasonal playgrounds such as Guerneville on the Russian River in California; Provincetown in Massachusetts; Rehoboth Beach in Delaware; and countless other smaller yet just as charming locals for decades; a place where men can be free from the constricting conformities of society to play and frolic in a world of their own.

If you have never watched Fire Island Fever, you should; if you know of it and have brushed it off, shame on you; if you remember it, revisit it. From the moment the credits began to roll, I knew this classic was going to be a cinematic gem. The soundtrack that manages to meld both the swinging jazz of a bygone era (think credits from an old rom-com starring Carey Grant, or Myrna Loy) with thumping disco beats. Beautifully directed by Jack Deveau, the film takes us on a glittering journey through New York City at Christmas time before we meet the narrator of our show. Garry Hunt plays the part of Jeff, a young man whose career has just taken a turn for the better as a set designer on Broadway. Prepare yourself, there are quite a few references to the bright lights and show tunes. We get the complicated Fire Island lowdown at Frank (Frank Schmitt) and George’s (George Sardi) “Annual Pines Christmas Party” announced by legendary cabaret pianist Johnny Savoy.

Now that we’ve introduced a sampling of the cast, let’s get down to the getting down. Reminiscing about the previous summer, Rick (played by John Carlo) begins the story. He, his boyfriend Ron (Larry Paige), and Jeff have shared a house for the season from Memorial Day through Labor Day. (Seriously, who can afford to spend that much time on an island? Don’t these people have jobs?)

It’s a great house they’ve rented out, pure seventies. I cannot describe how much I enjoy the wood paneling in this place, the spiral staircase, and don’t even get me started on that pool. So a little back story: this was not any easy peasy summer that one would dream about; open relationships spoil like milk in the sun, someone is always fucking around, and then there’s the celibate abstinent third mate. Rick and Ron had started out as a fresh happy couple when they arrived on Fire Island, but soon enough it’s Ron who can’t seem to keep his shorty shorts on! Can’t he see he’s breaking his boyfriend’s heart? Did I mention the soundtrack is amazing? Well, it is.

I’m going to tell you that if one thing in this great big gay world that will never change, it will be brunch. Yes, the time old tradition of the Sunday brunch as perfected by the homosexuals. Paying your weekly devotions to the mimosa gods is also the place to show off last night’s trick, dish about last night’s sexcapade, or work on curing whatever might ail you (wink). It’s also the place you might just find for some afternoon delight. I am not talking about the desert, what I am talking about is Rick getting a little action for himself, and why not? Terry (Chris Michaels) the waiter  is fine, young, fit, and handsome. Go get him, tiger!

Rick does get his wish and as he showers that dirty little spider Ron, in his jealous spitefulness, flushes Ricks supply of “smelling salts.” These were the kind that came in capsule form to prevent breakage and spillage. I thought for sure that box would clog up the pipes.

Needless to say, what will happen next is pretty predictable. Rick dashes off to find more “smelling salts,” leaving the fox to watch the hens literally. Terry is on his way! So it’s no surprise that when Mister Boy Toy arrives, Ron strikes like a hungry tiger. The pair have quite the interlude by the poolside, sucking and fucking with abandon. I am not about stealing other guys’ play things. It’s just not my thing.

Blissfully unaware of what is going down at home, Rick makes his way back on one of the island’s adorable boardwalks. After taking a quick breath of the newly acquired “smelling salts,” he’s ready to go, (take a moment to really appreciate the crescendo in this segment of soundtrack) but when he pears over the balcony he sees just what kind of snake Ron really is. Talk about dramatic. With a “Fuck you, I’m going back to New York!” Rick pushes past the thief in a haughty performance Scarlett O’Hara would be proud of. THIS girl is gone with THAT wind.

But why the hell does Ron get to have all the fun?

Rick finds himself in the shrubbery. You know, one of those fun little thickets full of sandy trails and teaming with wildlife? Well, the wildlife happens to be a sexy, sunglassed stud just waiting in a little alcove for some sizzling summer action. This is a sport not everyone is accustomed to-the cruising of outdoor trails, hiding in the brush (I know I am, and it is a whole new level of slutting it up). Rick and his partner eagerly get to it and soon enough Anonymous blows his load in Rick’s greedy face hole. There is a lot of slurping and gulping in this scene, so if that’s not your thing I suggest turning down the volume. So, turns out this guy is Greg (Hugh Allen) who has no place to stay. So what does Rick do? Invites him to stay with him. Triumphantly, the couple returns to the house where Rick lays down the law. End scene.


Back at the party you might recognize who the waiter and bartender are now. That’s right: Terry and Greg. What I also notice about this wonderful holiday get together is the camaraderie of the group. More and more I read about the widening estrangement between older and younger gay men as friends. I love so many of my friends and they all range in age from eighteen to eighty, but there are some ageists out there who only stick with their set. Sad. In Fire Island Fever we catch a glimpse of a time when men mingled as a tight knit group of friends and lovers in a way that we do not see so much of lately. I’d like to see more of that these days.

We travel back to that summer to remember; only it’s Ron’s turn to tell a story. I’m already not a fan, so let’s just see what he has to say. Well, well, well, looks like Rick isn’t such the nice innocent guy he has himself believing he is. Turns out Mister Oh Woe Is Me is a jerk. He’s got the nerve to cut ahead of a couple waiting for a table, behave rudely to Terry, act skeezy when it comes to propositioning him too, and on top of it all, he’s the one who accidentally flushed his own “smelling salts.” I was very impressed with John Carlo’s acting in this scene. Quite frankly, as it added a whole new richness to such a great film.

Terry still showed up (I know I wouldn’t have) and yes, he does end up making it with Ron, but just not the way we think. Ron isn’t really into Terry’s come on’s at first, however, with the sun, a pool, and a waiter this cute, the inevitable is inevitable. The sex is wonderfully shot. No bells and whistles, just sex. Terry straddles Ron’s dick and explodes all over his chest just before the stud pulls his raw cock out to blow. Three words: pretty fucking hot.

Rick must be on something because he never did catch the two in the act, and Terry himself is kind of a bitchy queen himself.

Ron laments about how the parties in Cherry Grove are going to be too camp. I love the lingo being thrown around in this scene. C’mon “Cloche Encounters” as a party theme? Love it! To sum things up: Greg is a douche and Rick is a sucker for him. Terry is going to move in with Ron. Lord, this is pretty weird… I think they might all have been high.

Punctuated again by the incredible soundtrack we move on to our third vacationer: Jeff (Garry Hunt).

Suddenly Jeff has acquired four roommates. As the plot thickens, we find out that both Greg and Terry are moochers and the reasons they hooked up with Rick and Ron were for shady courtesy fucks. Eventually they’re turned into house boys to take care of the cooking and cleaning and such. Something has been on my mind the whole time this has all been going down. How can you afford a whole summer?

Terry quit his job and surprise! he and Greg are fucking now! How sordid, the drama. More slurping, but the incredible little waltzy cha cha music is infectious! The guys do look good in bed 69ing and emptying their balls. Who has laundry duty?

Midway through the summer Jeff is losing it! He keeps sketching the same hard bodied hunk over and over, mysteriously inspired by a poster of Matt Harper (aka Will Seagers) in his room. He ends up jacking to a fantasy of Matt on the sand dunes furiously pumping to an intense disco beat! Matt is a fine looking stud (he even does some weird gum thing? Don’t know….). Soon enough Jeff is splashing himself in man juice. Will does some weird shit with bubble gum and has been stroking himself in the fantasy as well. The men cum simultaneously after which  Jeff licks up some of his own cum pretending that it’s Matt’s.

Trippy, psychedelic things just got weird. Terry has laced the iced tea with a little something something that may or may not come on a small square of paper if you get my drift. In this short segment we see lots of flashy colors and cool sand pyramids. This is some interesting camera work and shots going on I dare say. Jeff has quite a trip. I don’t know if a dip in the water is such a good time.

Having been so overworked prior to his vacation, Jeff is finally learning to have fun again. Time for the last big blow out of the season-Tea Dance! Terry and Greg, having not been invited, take this alone time as an excuse to have some raunchy sex.

Fire Island Fever is really coming together. I’m so impressed with the story, the acting, the quality of the film, and its direction, but things must come to an end.

In our final scene back at the house, Rick and Ron have an altercation and realize that they have been trying to get back at each other all summer and it’s time to make up; they’re still in love. The best part is that as the couple are making up Terry and Greg are listening through the door! Ha, they mention Bette Davis! Are they really going to fuck on the same sheets that Terry and Greg just had?

The couple have some serious hate fucking to do! Which is pretty hot. Rick’s furry hole swallows Ron’s nicely sized prick. Greg and Terry are still listening, and it’s a sexy, realistic scene. There aren’t any insane positions or moves as these guys renew their passion so that the audience can have the closest genital close ups available. It’s a simple, hard, afternoon fuck. Rick grabs hold tight of Ron’s bubble butt as he pushes in and out even faster. This was the scene we have been waiting for! Two big creamy cum shots from two very exhausted purple cocks. Fuck yeah.

Having emerged from their hiding place to witness the epic finale, Terry and Greg pronounce that they are done and that they are moving out! So sad. Bye, ladies.

So summer has ended, the holidays are upon us, and there is just one more burning question I have. Why couldn’t Jeff have had a real life encounter on Fire Island? Well? I’m going to have to leave that a mystery because there is one more surprise at the end of this film you just have to see for yourself.

Annnnd we end on a beautiful rendition of “Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” I would imagine by The Gay Men’s Chorus.

Get on over to and watch this amazing classic, seriously, you will not be disappointed. Remember to keep cumming back here and follow me on Twitter and Tumblr!

Catch ya later cum catchers,

The Otter


Blog Theatre