"Jeffrey," the pleasing new film based on Paul Rudnick's popular play about gay love in the age of AIDS, is a gentle yet deceptively dangerous film. At least where movie critics are concerned. Critics usually don't agree on many things, but there's one area on which we all safely concur: You can't win when you review a gay-oriented film. If you like one -- such as Maria Maggenti's recent "The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love," for example -- you get calls and letters labeling you "disgusting" and other more unprintable things. If you're the least bit negative about one -- such as, say, "The Sum of Us," directed by Kevin Dowling and Geoff Burton -- you're immediately branded a homophobe.

"Jeffrey," which could be a breakthrough for gay films, could also be a test for audiences. Adapted for the screen by Rudnick (author of the riotous "Addams Family Values") and filmed by its original stage director, Christopher Ashley (making his film debut), the movie is like one of those fancy tropical cocktails, full of forbidden alcohol to get you reeling but balanced with a lot of soda, foam, cherries and tiny paper umbrellas to make it seem harmless. It comes with a superficially sunny sitcom adorableness that -- like the seemingly wildly disparate ingredients of those summer beach coolers -- mixes well with Rudnick's smart, scathing, urban and very dark one-liners.

The story, which is simple enough, is fleshed out by extended skits, the aforementioned one-liners and Rudnick's keen observations on people and their foibles in times of trouble. Jeffrey is played winningly by Steven Weber (of TV's "Wings"), an inspired and absolutely crucial bit of casting in that Weber is extremely likable and easy to relate to -- an Everyman. Jeffrey is a nerdy, Woody Allenesque kind of guy who keeps monitoring and analyzing himself. He always seems to be taking his pulse. He's an actor, but he works as a "caterer waiter" (which Jeffrey says "is like the gay National Guard"). Although he's lonely, Jeffrey has sworn off sex -- not so much because he doesn't want to take the risk, what with the threat of AIDS all around, but because he doesn't want to see someone he loves suffer and die. He's a genuinely nice guy. You want the best for him -- even if the best comes in the form of another sweet guy who is HIV-positive. It's typical of Jeffrey's luck that he meets Steve (Michael T. Weiss) on the very day he's gone off the sexual wagon.

The movie is a prolonged debate, staged in both reality and fantasy, about the importance of love in our lives and the strength of real commitment. Lovelorn Jeffrey doesn't always get the most sound advice. "HIV-positive men are the hottest!" one goofy friend says. Among those who chime in are Sigourney Weaver, who does a wicked send-up of new-age spiritualist Marianne Williamson (replete with Kathy Najimy as her sycophant); Nathan Lane as a cleric who takes a liking to Jeffrey ("Catholic priests fall historically between chorus boys and florists," Lane says); Christine Baranski ("Cybill") as the hostess at an "AIDS Hoedown"; and Olympia Dukakis as a mother devoted to "my post-operative transsexual lesbian son."

Best of all, there's Patrick Stewart, glorious as Sterling, an interior decorator whose own lover, a chorus boy named Darius (Bryan Batt), has AIDS. Darius is happy, though. He's achieved his goal in life -- a role in "Cats." When Jeffrey tells Sterling that he's had dreams about Mother Theresa and that she looks great, Stewart intones, "Oh, she's had work done!"

Rudnick and Ashley mix in a Gay Pride Day parade, represented humorously by groups with names like "Dykes With Bikes," "Concerned Asian Bisexuals" and "Gay Black Republicans," and a TV show called "It's Just Sex" (hosted by Robert Klein) where the winner is the one who gives "the most stylish reply." And when they show two guys kissing, they cleverly jump to a movie audience watching -- and responding predictably -- to the same moment. It takes the pressure off us.

In the world of gay cinema, most straight audiences tend to accept only the unthreatening caricatures found in films like Edouard Molinaro's "La Cage Aux Folles" (1978) -- "Look at those homosexuals! Aren't they cute?" Gay audiences, meanwhile, prefer something less stereotypical and more in touch with their experiences, films along the lines of Norman Rene's sad "Longtime Companion" (1986) and Paul Bogart's funny-serious "Torch Song Trilogy" (1988). "Jeffrey" falls somewhere in between, which means it's capable of satisfying both audience segments -- or satisfying neither. The letters and calls on this one should be interesting.

Joe Baltake, 8 September 1995