By comparison, the romantic interests are far richer, and the house they have makes Erin’s comfortably lived in one look like a tin roof shack. Noah and his crew save their pennies for this once-a-year event, which is partially made possible by the house Erin bought after winning a personal injury lawsuit. Kim Booster, who also wrote the sharp and funny screenplay, fleshes out several Asian queer characters, juggling issues such as racial fetishism with the class conflicts that populated the novels of his source material’s era. They are often ten times worse than straight romcoms and feature endless clones of slightly-bearded White men who look like the cast of the Doonesbury comic strip relocated to Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Despite that, “Fire Island” is a refreshing, racially balanced corrective to the usual queer romcoms. Unfortunately, he gets far less screen time than the more stereotypically bodied men with their speedos and their six-packs, as if the film is hiding him. “ Represent!” I yelled at my computer screen upon seeing Max’s thick bod. He’s physically built, unapologetically slutty, and the de facto leader of the multiethnic crew that includes the raunchy, boisterous duo of Luke ( Matt Rogers) and Keegan ( Tomás Matos), and the playfully judgmental Black intellectual Max ( Torian Miller). Much of Yang’s expected brashness is transplanted to Noah. It’s excellent work that earns the hilarious and grandiose gesture the film gifts Howie with during the climax. Those familiar with the brash characters Yang portrayed on "Saturday Night Live" will find a more subdued, introspective performance here, one that doesn’t scrimp on the sharp quips yet grounds them in a sincere longing for romance. I over-exaggerate, to be sure, but it may explain why my interest gravitated toward Howie’s insecurities. If I dared venture there in my current 52-year-old dad bod condition, the island would sink itself in the Atlantic before I got there. And this was my twentysomething, in shape, muscular body. When I went to Fire Island for the first time over 25 years ago, no fewer than eight people stopped to explicitly tell me I was too fat to be there. I’m glad someone mentions it, and that the film ruminates on the real and perceived shallow optics inherent in that statement. “No fatties, no femmes, and no Asians,” someone says, describing a mantra seen in some gay spaces.