A horny WeHo party boy falls for a Mormon missionary in 2003’s wildly underrated queer classic Latter Days

Does this Mormon MLM movie hold up?

Welcome to Y2GAY, where we look back at the best (and worst, and in between) of early 2000s LGBTQ+ cinema. For our first week, a Mormon and a WeHo stud meet cute in this forgotten gem.

For a generation of teens, the early 2000s indie scene was a godsend. This was the moment when the world of queer, sex-positive stories opened up to the mainstream with shows like Queer as Folk and The L Word becoming crossover sensations. In 2003, you could go to the movies and see a terrible take on the Aileen Wuornos story (Monster), a bisexual teenage fantasy (Thirteen) or a harrowing new Gus Van Sant joint (the forever-relevant Elephant.)

How about we take this to the next level?

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But outside of the mainstream, in smaller, FUBU queer filmmaking corners, you could find stories that expanded your sense of what queer life could be. The closeted studio era was over, and the unfortunate wave of important but depressing big-budget AIDS dramas was coming to a close. What was left? Queer culture, without any pressure to conform to the expectations of straight audiences.

That’s how we got something like C. Jay Cox’s Latter Days, a rom com that equates coming out of the closet with finding your religion, and totally gets away with it.

Cox, who broke out with the Reese Witherspoon hit Sweet Home Alabama, sets the scene in West Hollywood. We meet Christian (Wes Ramsey), a young gay man who spends his time seducing “straight-curious” studs on AOL…and IRL. To Christian, sex is a way to pass the time between shifts at an upscale West Hollywood restaurant, where he and his fellow minimum-wage employees are waiting for their big break playing the “wacky gay neighbor” on some new sitcom. But when Christian meets Aaron (Steve Sandvoss), a young Mormon sent to LA to convert the demonic, hard-partying citizens of WeHo to the LDS church, his priorities start shifting.

It starts as a joke. “Wouldn’t it be funny if you coverted them instead of them converting you?” Christian’s best friend Julie wonders. Soon, Christian and his friends have money riding on it. But even though Aaron and Christian have chemistry to spare (evidenced in an extended jockstrap wound dressing scene!) it’s the start of a long road that will have both of them questioning everything they’ve believed in until now.

Latter Days impressed me in so many areas. The cast was diverse, the characters well-developed, and some of the writing was unexpectedly sharp. The phrase “”gayer than a box of birds” is an all-timer, and one exchange about an ex-boyfriend whose family sent him to a “Christian Change Ministry” had me screaming. “Did he change?” someone asks. “Did he! Miss Thang used to be a top!”

Latter Days, 2003

But what elevates Latter Days is its core thesis: for some, loveis a religion. It’s thrilling to see a young, tortured Mormon throw off the shackles of homophobic, hypocritical LDS doctrines in 2003. But there’s a deeper complexity to the journey both men make toward finding something real to believe in. “What if I’m the bright light?” Christian asks Aaron after following him all the way back to Salt Lake City.

For the first half of the film, we’ve heard Aaron’s criticisms of Christian as a “shallow” party boy only interested in getting off. Being told he’s no more than a “walking marshmallow fluff” gets under Christian’s skin to the point where he wants to start doing more with his life. He joins the ranks of Project Angel Food, the historic LA outreach service that started as a way to provide PLWH with access to ready-made meals. Despite Christian’s relationship with a one-dimensional AIDS patient being one of the story’s weaker aspects, it does bolster our idea of who Christian is and why he needs to change. Maybe religion isn’t going to give his life meaning, but at this point, something has to.

For Aaron, the journey toward meaning is rockier. When Aaron is outed by his fellow missionaries for hooking up with Christian, he’s forced out of the church and into a hyperstylized version of conversion therapy. But all he can think about is the man he’s left behind. Christian has come to replace the eroticized idea of Jesus he’s believed in all his life, but coming out is still a scary leap. When Christian and Aaron finally find each other again, the tension of who will “convert” to whose side finally dissolves. This is a love story where change doesn’t mean forgetting who you are. On the contrary: for Christian and Aaron, love is all the religion they need.

It might sound corny, but it doesn’t come across that way. Latter Days respects both characters enough to show the work it takes for them to be together. “I’m in hell,” Christian cries while trying desperately to contact Aaron. For Mormons, it doesn’t take much to be damned to hell in the next life. But in this life, it’s hard to imagine a fate worse than being kept apart from your soulmate, fire and brimstone notwithstanding.

Mormons, especially queer or “SSA” mormons, make for fascinating subject matter in any era. But Latter Days reminded me of how much it took—and still takes—for religious people to come out of the closet. “What if it’s not what I’ve done,” Aaron asks his mother during a painful argument, “what if it’s who I am?” Too often, queer people are told that who they are precludes their ability to belong to any house of worship. In 2003, this film was asking why queer people had to choose. Who says you can’t have both, and be both?

One character sums it up perfectly for my money. “Your church doesn’t believe in alcohol or homosexuals,” she says. “Guess I’m not joining. I can’t imagine heaven without both.”

Neither can I.

Latter Days is streaming on Tubi and YouTube.

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