If you are wondering what ever happened to plain, wholesome, sardonic and bitchy camp, SPF 2000 is a beacon of hope. This flick could almost be the anthem for the so-called "post-queer" intent on recycling the myths of the Cold War HOMOsexual. When there is not impossible angst, there is always the unbearable lightness of superficial romance to fall back on. But it is difficult not to be seduced by this cross-dressing, homosexual reinvention of early-sixties Italian beach flicks. Let's see, is there enough of a plot to relay? This was the genre where style was everything and content tedious. Drag mama and her boy go to the beach. Or was "he" really a "she"? True love is just down the beach in the persona of a studly young man. Soon the courtship begins and mama is forced to deal with the existential angst of her little one leaving the nest. The rest is history - well sort of. But is this supposed to be the netherworld where romance and soft porn meet? SPF 2000's core statement is how this "location" (to use the cliché) is so flaccid as to verge on exhausting.