**WARNING: SPOILERS ABOUND!**<br /><br />I had a very strange reaction while watching 'Hellbent' last night: I was kind of excited to see a horror movie that was made by an openly gay director, and had played to some fanfare on the festival circuit. But that excitement deflated faster than the Hindenburg when I realized 'Hellbent' was no better than the average flick that arrives direct to the shelves of Blockbuster with alarming frequency. 'Hellbent' is not good horror and it is not good Queer Cinema (although I'm the first to argue that there is very little quality Queer Cinema). To make matters worse, the movie does absolutely nothing to dispel the myth that gay men are bed-hopping, pill-popping alcoholics who suffer from a deadly combination of low self-esteem, shame and guilt.<br /><br />Plot: Four gay friends attend the Carnival in West Hollywood on Halloween night. One of them, a would-be cop who lost an eye in an accident (how that tidbit plays in at the end is both perfunctory and a distraction), plays the "straight" role, while the others comprise the obligatory group of slaughter fodder: the stud, who needs to lay everything with two legs and a heartbeat; the shy kid who just wants to get the phone number from that one guy; and the model who's so tired of being judged by his looks that he decides to go out for the night in drag just to prove to everyone that he's not as shallow as he seems. They're pursued through the streets by a mad-dog killer dressed as a--well, I don't know exactly what he's dressed like, some kind of devil, which could carry its own social message about the ills of illicit drug use and sex. They die, and that's pretty much it. There's also an unnecessary subplot that involves a budding connection between the one-eyed nice guy and a "biker with a heart of gold," and writer-director Paul Etheredge-Ouzts does all he can to mine sympathy for the shy guy and the model before he kills them off.<br /><br />In reality, Ouzts has done nothing socially conscious, or even new by replacing a bevy of horny heterosexual teens with a bevy of horny twenty-something 'mos and putting them in the same old predictable situation where they can be picked off, one by one, by a masked killer. Haven't we seen this all before--and done far better? Ouzts' digital camera work is stilted and lazy, his cinematography dark and dank in all the wrong places. He uses unnecessary and extreme close-ups ad nauseum; most of the time they're so improperly framed that the top of the actors' heads are cut off. And Ouzts commits the cardinal sin of casting a leading man so bland that he's upstaged by his supporting cast. There's some nice work Bryan Kirkwood as the edgy biker, and Hank Harris as the self-conscious Joey, who meets a too-early end. But even they aren't enough to conceal the fact that this really isn't a very good film. (And please, spare me the gaggle of wrong-sighted support for the film simply because it was made by a gay man and involves gay characters. Social exposure, on its own and by its mere existence, doesn't automatically make for good cinema.) So what does this all add up to? Not much. There's very little suspense, and the decision Ouzts makes regarding the killer's identity borders on criminal, considering he's given us nothing to care about up to that point. Dodging a pay-off is all well and good so long as there's justification in the build-up.