But she's serious.

Director Jamie Babbit pokes fun at "ex-gay" rehabs in But I'm a Cheerleader but she's intent on exposing their dangers

"I never thought of myself as a lesbian in high school, but everyone else thought I was," recalls Jamie Babbit, the director of the new absurdist comedy But I'm a Cheerleader. Babbit, who grew up in Ohio, says her image of lesbians never transcended athletic, butch dykes who excel at softball. Of course, Babbit didn't think she was one of those. In fact, when she came out in college, her baffled mother said, "But you were never good at sports."

Sitting outside a Los Angeles cafe, her blue eyes intense and focused, the 29-year-old Babbit displays a confidence that belies her youth. She was just 25 when she came up with the idea for But I'm a Cheerleader after reading an article about a man who had gone through a "homosexual rehab" program. The experience had left him seething with self-hatred. "I wanted to criticize this phenomenon but in a comedic way," Babbit explains. "Using a rehab program to help a drug addict is one thing, but a homosexual? I thinks it's an artist's job to poke fun at social issues."

Babbit also had firsthand knowledge about rehabilitation programs. Her mother ran a halfway house for kids with drug and alcohol problems. In fact, she grew up with the 12 steps posted on the wall above her bed. Fascinated by the theme of repression, Babbit decided to develop the idea into a feature-length film. A friend hooked her up with openly gay screenwriter Brian Wayne Peterson, who had recently graduated from the University of Southern California's film school, and the two began to develop the story. Eventually Andrea Sperling, an independent film producer and Babbit's partner of five years, raised the money and produced the movie.

Natasha Lyonne plays Megan, a good girl who's more obsessed with her cheerleading squad (and their bright orange sports bras) than with her football star boyfriend, who insists on marathon French-kissing sessions. When her friends and family stage an "intervention" to confront her about her latent homosexuality--they suspect her because she eats tofu and has a Melissa Etheridge poster--Megan replies in disbelief, "I'm not a pervert; I'm a cheerleader!" Her parents ship her off to a homosexual rehabilitation camp where--surprise--she discovers she is a lesbian and falls in love with an acerbic fellow camper named Graham (Clea DuVall).

When Lyonne first read the script, she didn't even know about homosexual conversion camps, many of which use the 12-step model. "When I found out that there were really these places, it was beyond my comprehension," Lyonne recalls. "Drug addiction is a problem. But homosexuality? Give me a break." DuVall, an old friend of Babbit's who turned Lyonne on to the project, says, "I think it's really important to make people aware these places exist. So few people know what's really going on."

But Babbit decided to let people know what's going on by taking it to a surreal, Technicolor level. The sets are candy-color creations perfectly suited to the camp director character played by a hyperfemme Cathy Moriarty--who describes her role as "Sandra Dee on crack."

"I'm really into constructed reality worlds," Babbit says. "I wanted to make the world of the movie very artificial and polyester. I think it's a great comment on the artificiality of gender identity."

Even though Peterson, who has been out since high school, was named one of "ten screenwriters to watch" by Variety and Babbit is developing several new projects to direct, But I'm a Cheerleader has met with mixed reviews. One critic from Variety felt the characters were one-dimensional stereotypes that did little to illuminate much about the depth of the issue.

But Babbit disagrees. "Brian and I are a new generation of gay people," she explains. "The older generation are critical because our vision isn't politically correct. We want to be able to poke fun at our own community. Gay men can be faggy, and gay women can be butch, but it can be done in a way that's not offensive."

Peterson concurs. "We wanted to show how ludicrous the idea of changing someone's sexuality is," he says. "But you can't make fun of other people unless you're willing to make fun of yourselves, and that's a huge problem in the gay community. We didn't want to preach to the choir, and we didn't want to do another soft coming-out after-school special."

Babbit says she's not worried that being openly gay will affect her career. "This is a film about stereotypes. And ultimately, in the movie and in real life, I believe if you're OK with your homosexuality, then others will be as well. I just want to make movies, and I don't care if they're gay or straight."

Stukin also writes for Harper's Bazaar and Us.