J. C. is a loner with a boner, a drifter who arrives in metropolitan San Francisco to flit about from man to man to woman to man...etc. His virile young body his only means of survival, this creature of the street boffs an assemblage of sluts, perverts, and letches for pay while intermittently flashing back to the sad days of his childhood...a time when his scumbag father and harlot mother played around on each other, leaving the poor boy to observe from the shadows.
Lurid sexploitation is deficiently nouvelle vague in exposition, but for all its specious arthouse ambitions, it's grindhouse fodder, full stop. It's dreary, uneventful, and centered on an exanimate character who's little more than a zombified screwing machine. THE MEATRACK is a trashy little libido spur from a time in America when the gay community lived by its own rules, and as such should be a hell of a lot more interesting, and at least a little bit more shocking.
3.5/10...just another piece of meat.