There's a reason he has to make this mistake: a reason too close to those old "daring" "madcap" movies of the 30's-40's where a man and a woman have to share an apartment. Ho! Ho! It was easy to do this in the 40's farces where there was a housing shortage in places like Washington D.C.

Now it's a Man (hetero), having to live with another Man (and he homosexual).

The situation could possibly be funnier if it were an Out of Town Kid from a world in which homosexuals never existed and from a culture where one man never, ever kissed another.

But Italians?

The writer and director of Kiss Me Guido—Tony Vitale-- is Italian, born and raised in the Bronx. He knows better. Every Italian family ( and every Greek, Jewish, or Armenian family) has a gay member. Let's forget that 10% extracted from the Kinsey report. That's for "white" or "gentile" people.

Next: the title: True, indeed, that out-there in whitebread America, and out there in Afro-American macho culture, as well as out there in macho Hispanic culture one man doesn't kiss another.

But it happens in Italian, Iranian, Jewish, Armenian culture. Anyone who has lived in these countries (or their enclaves in New York City and its five boroughs which include the Bronx) can see men-kissing-men (not as much anymore and now limited to the older less- assimilated generations, but it continues.)

At the end of many a family party, writer/director Vitale must have heard the imperious voice of an Italian-American mother insisting "Kiss your cousin" (the cousin being one of the same sex). Today it's a kiss on the cheek, often, but in the past (as in the Russian world of Turgenev novels) it was lip to lip.

The title's made for "whites" ("gentiles", non-Italians) and the movie's made for whitebread America.

The poorly crafted script insults gays, Italian-Americans, and--Jewish woman (singular). If you are gay and involved in theatre you may watch the film covered with embarrassment. It's like seeing all the old cliches about homos, brushed up in Technicolor and presented as--G-d help us--fact.

Let's have it: all homos drape sweaters over their shoulders, and would drop their true loves for moguls with money, or purveyors of opportunity. They'd blondine their hair, and would be unlikely to exhibit enthusiasm for good plays or an interest in live theatre. Right? Right!

Now Italians: they all wear gold chains, the men are skinny with good physiques and dongs that work overtime. The women are stupid and have round heels. Right? Right!

Now Jews: (small sample, one Jewish woman): She's really stupid but (how?) has lots of money and runs a business (how can she be both stupid and successful in business?) Get over it. Jews have money. They—like Italians-- are also crazy to get married, and will gladly leave family, faith for Italian sausage. Right? Right!

No, not right.

Vitale, who must have looked over the publicity release which quotes him, equates the gay hero with Harvey Fierstein (spelled "Firestein" through the release.)

Mr. Fierstein, who wrote Torch Song Trilogy, based partly on his own life, is an original.

Mr. Vitale is not an original.

In spite of all his talk about being an Independent, this film is all Dependent: on images of John Travolta from Saturday Night Fever and Harvey Fierstein from Torch Song Trilogy.

This films in a pale reflection of material that's still around waiting to be tapped.

Condolences to misused actors Nick Scotti, the "Italian" Frankie and Anthony Barrile, as Warren, the gay man who gets a straight roommate.

The only actor who escapes with something to show: Molly Price, playing the Jewish landlady, hot to trot. She's greater than her part with its stupid lines, managing, magically, to walk away with the film, engaging audience sympathy.