The flaming Iron Ladies was a gay and transsexual volleyball team that took Thailand by storm in the late '90s. 2000's The Iron Ladies documented their success on home turf while its sequel accounts their failed attempt to conquer the international circuit and cope with the loss and inevitable return of one of their precious members. Both films don't exist to teach the people of Thailand that laughing at gays is not the same thing as accepting them, but to coax passive stereotypes into the country's daily way of life. (Someone tell the old ladies at the market square that it's not a compliment to tell an attractive a man that he's a "waste" for not liking pussy.)

Every bit as offensive and unnecessary as its predecessor, this minstrel show banks on its cast of squealing queens to make complete and utter jackasses of themselves. "Is your eyesight that bad? I'm using my mouth to speak! As for my ass, I'm saving that," zings the perpetually preening Jung (Chaicharn Nimpulsawasdi, possibly the most obnoxious human being on the face of the earth).

This spectacle of clamorous faggotry is pitched along the same lines as the original—instead of breaking their nails or giggling hysterically in the presence of sausage, the "girls" must figure out how to keep their shit together when they get stuck in an elevator—except now it's tempered by the straight man's attempts to prove to his wife that playing volleyball with faggots doesn't mean that he's also sucking their cocks. Queens living on Castro and Christopher streets will eat this shit up, but isn't this whole we-are-family claptrap getting kind of old?