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I discovered Anna Span, touted as Britain's first Adult Cinema
director, long after her career seems to have evaporated, but my first
few video exposures to her work were impressive enough to hook me.
Unfortunately, most of her vignette output (currently available at her
website) is underwhelming, hardly living up to her "woman's
Case in point is this loser, clearly aimed like so much vintage Brit Porn strictly at the rather tiny limited local market, and not released in America (I import all this stuff).
It's sort of a youth exercise, employing many familiar porn stars but matching them up with such obscure players that I classify it overall as pro-am, though I suspect the "ams" are actually marginal industry models or perhaps male and female prostitutes. None of it is stimulating: not funny, engrossing or anything other than generic sex action.
So what of the Anna Span hype? Where are the feminist or at least equal time themes? Where are the touted camera angles she claims represents what women want to see during depiction of sex acts? All absent without leave, apparently.
What we do get are five dull vignettes, with plenty of unintelligible British muttering with impenetrably thick accents. Interracial sex seems to be a key theme, as big-dicked Justin Joy is featured both in a gang bang and in the best sequence, humping a distinctive Subcontinent or Middle Eastern beauty named Sahara. Alas, she has only one IMDb credit (this one).
Stefan Hard is thrown into the mix with amateurs, and beauties Carmel and Karlie Simon, latter the best-known cast member, waste their time with group sex.
Net result is that the British lass from India, Anjali Kara, emerges hands-down the premiere femme Adult director in England, with a distinctive style and consistently arousing features for daring! Media, leaving Anna back in the scrum cranking out porn rather indistinguishable from that of the boys.
I'm sure the veteran pornographer (his label motto: "luxure depuis
1979") Marc Dorcel is acquainted with the great films and plays of
French icon Marcel Pagnol, and many of his XXX features occupy the same
bucolic, countryside territory as that master. "Intimate Journal",
released stateside a decade ago by Wicked Pictures, fills that bill,
nothing more than light, romantic but explicit episodes with beautiful
girls humping in a rural setting.
The big-bust babe, who I'm guessing is Kristi Klenot, stole the show for me, while heroine and narrator Lucy Love figures most prominently but is a forgettable performer. Director ALain Payet, better known for his story-line films decades before, pilots the mindlessness skilfully, and the male cast is loaded with very familiar talent who later became Chatsworth workhorses, like Mick Blue and Toni Ribas.
This falls into the Generic Euro Porn category that typifies a great deal of the Dorcel catalogue, but is painlessly sexy and notable for its ration of far more sex scenes than is latterly the case.
Porn Pros is one of those many, many Adult labels that appears
incapable of releasing a quality video, perhaps on purpose given
current lowbrow market trends, and this ephemeral loser is mere
evidence of that fact. It's merely five gonzo segments that have
nothing to do with marriage or infidelity.
Proof of that failing is casting Danny Mountain in back to back segments servicing different beauties, namely the great MILF Kendra Lust and then currently popular Peta Jensen. He's not a gigolo, merely a porn actor humping porn actresses for generic XXX content.
The ringer in the bunch is Madison, not the distinctive starlet of yore, but rather a flat-chested jail-bait candidate. Tyler Nixon catches her masturbating, and despite his screen (casting) proclivity for older women, he deigns to hump her in an extremely poor final scene of this overall loser of a DVD.
Girl Co. is an obscure porn label that specializes, natch, in girl/girl
action, and this aptly-named junker does just that. Most of the talent
is unknown, but Veronica Avluv lends her considerable beauty and
flexibility (big bad dildos in her posterior a specialty) to the
Her segment is with relative newcomer Aria Alexander, who has quickly gained prominence starring in a series of Digital Playground releases. Anal sex including a d.p. via the dildos route, is spoken in their opening vignette, with Aria taking some kidding in the BTS short subject about her own reluctance to take it in the back door.
I found the other three segments rather boring, with unimpressive actresses chosen. Sindy Lange, a MILF recognizable from many Girlfriends Films appearances, has her way with young Christiana Cinn, and we get some Golden Shower (they like to call it squirting) action.
Long-time Adult actress Ryder Skye advances to MILF-hood opposite young Ziggy Star, whose credits are poor to date. Lousy improv dialog sinks their scene.
Finale links obscuro Miss Melrose with equally unknown Alessandra Noir, two performers heading nowhere in a hurry.
Playgirl TV's focus is on the male body, as evidenced by the many Solo
segments featuring some stud posing and jerking off for the camera. In
the Wicked compilation from Playgirl "Love Sounds" (title is
meaningless, as several segments are MOS with no sound at all) the
ladies get no screen credit, but almost every vignette begins with muff
diving before intercourse.
By far the best scene is a Bonus, "Waterfall Wishes", an outdoor threesome with the screen couple of Nicole Sheridan and Voodoo adoring luscious Dee.
Other sequences are all over the place, ranging from the oddball "Minute Man", in which Steven St. Croix is wandering in a colonial army uniform, right out of TV's "Sleepy Hollow" series, picked up on the road by blonde Kim Kane and humping her at her convertible in present day America (California of course, not NY State.
Another convertible, a Caddy, figures in "Under Her Hood", taking off from the title pun to have bosomy Mya Luanna saved from car trouble by Chris Knight, who humps her on the car hood, but it all turns out to just be her fantasy.
Most pretentious vignette is the opener titled "Consumed by Fate", featuring many interesting images staged in some parking garage made abstract by a sparely decorated set with furniture and candles, for Marcus London service a busty brunette.
No emotional connection is established in these vaguely romantic pairings, while a big-dicked Black model named "Mr. Goodbar" beats off and shoots spunk on his own belly in the Bonus Solo, his massive dick never fully erect a la John Holmes of old.
Yes, the male performers are Black, but no, "trunk" does not imply non-
stop anal action. It's just a catch phrase, typical of those dreaded
Wicked Pictures "4-Hour" compilations created for superficial fans of
I use the word superficial because excerpting scenes from the entire feature in which they formed a part is an ongoing practice, much exacerbated in these times of video streaming, that defies the point of Adult Cinema in the first place. As a Black Sheep distant relative of mainstream cinema, the porn feature aspires to use the same basic techniques and formats that have served movies so well for over 100 years while including explicit sexual content not permitted in polite society. Chopping a feature up for fun and mainly profit is merely an insult.
Many of the Wicked releases so treated here are just gonzo junk in the first place (e.g., "Butts 101", "My Black Fantasy"), so no harm done, but the 243-minute result is boring anyhow. Asa Akira deep-throating Mr. Marcus is worth a peek, a typical Brazilian opus starring Kid Jamaica and the lovely Karine Muller is exotic enough, but only Lisa Ann stands out in the rest of the show. Her gang-bang with 5 Black studs, emphasis on anal sex & d.p.'s seems to run an hour or so, but cannot be easily dismissed by her most ardent fans.
This obscure Metro release from James Avalon, so forgotten I had to add
it belatedly to IMDb 15 years after, has the talented director whiling
away his time with visual and editing gimmicks that cannot hide the
barrenness of the poor script.
Overacting more than even his usual, Evan Stone redundantly plays over & over in the early reels a poor slob at the end of his tether. He's drinking heavily, feeling sorry for himself and lashing out at the world, while we, the poor audience out there in video land, watch repetitive montages of uninteresting images purporting to show his lost love.
So-called pal Butch (Joel Lawrence) tries to cheer the big lug up by hiring prostitutes for him, stupidly referred to as Bachelor Party girls, a euphemism which gives the lousy video a title, but accomplishes little else. There's no marriage, engagement in the offing, just hookers coming over to the mansion.
One hooker, the incomparable Ann Marie Rios, is the casting inclusion that prompted my interest, but her role is a throwaway, merely humping Joel in tandem with Holly Hollywood, also wasted. Their confrere, superstar of the moment Sunrise Adams, gets the title role, as a beauty who soon obsesses Hunter on the rebound. His pursuit of her in later reels is as stupid as his stasis in the earlier ones, leading to an equally stupid "twist ending" that Avalon somehow thought would tie up this mess neatly. It doesn't.
Examining James' directing career in toto, I am surprised at the many clunkers I find in between his classics. They're all worth watching to get a true picture of an artist's maturation, but this one definitely belongs in the minus column.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
Pornographer David Lord, one of the worst in his calling, looks down
his nose at the famous '80s TV series in this belated so-called parody
(= ripoff) that is inept on every front: sex, action, you name it.
Right from Randy Spears wearing a horrible rug in the lead George
Peppard role to his racist skits (in Blackface and in Jerry Lewis type
Oriental stereotype) we're in for a sad excuse for entertainment.
Early on I was wondering if this junker was bad on purpose, as the DCypher script frequently treats the old TV show as if it were the crappiest of crap. But as incompetently staged scenes piled up I realized that it was the filmmakers screwing things up inadvertently.
Lamest of lame stories concerns reporter Seth Gamble being kidnapped when he takes photos of a biker drug deal and a corrupt politician (porno director Roy Karch in acting guise). His girlfriend Bree Olson (the Adam & Eve contract player, not very impressive here) tries her darnedest to find him, enlisting the underground A-Team to help out.
Scenes are injected merely to provide sexual content with the emphasis on anal, not surprising in latter-day Adult videos, but extremely disappointing in a narrative film, even one in the horrible "porn-parody" sub-genre. Finale of her humping Spears is tacked on to a finished story (Spears and his teammates Tyler Knight, Evan Stone and Scotty Styles have disappeared back into the underground already, so how Bree hooks up again with him is left unexplained and highly improbable) and is worthless generic sex.
The "action" scenes are pitiful, as at times Lord merely makes fun of the exigencies of an older-era TV show that had to cut corners to grind out dozens of episodes per year on tight schedules, but he fails to deliver any real action. One chase scene of bikers on the highway pursuing the A-Team's trademark black van ends with a bike just skidding and falling on its side -no real action at all. Fight scenes are poor, and despite the casting of a man-mountain body builder as a heavy (Jordan Lane as "Animal") the physical side of the production is absent. Instead we get frequent library footage for transitions between unrelated scenes.
In common with current porn practice in a dying industry, the emphasis is on the extractable sex scene, suitable for anthologizing or the consumer preference of downloading or streaming, leaving the rest of the "feature" in limbo. In this case, the great UK imports Sophie Dee and McKenzie Lee, both latterly big-bust queens, team up for a 2 on 1 dick threesome with Evan Stone that lasts 31 minutes, grinding the show to a halt but most stimulating for their fans (count me at the front of that line).
A superfluous second disk issued to con the fans into thinking this is a big-deal release has a lengthy BTS (46 minutes long) in which we learn that Evan failed to show up for work one day (of a 4 or 5 day shoot), so he is written out rather glaringly of many of the team's scenes, sort of like the Beatles reduced to a 3-man group like Jimi Hendrix Experience or Cream, rather than the advertised Fab Four.
Worst acting is predictably turned in by Lyons, encouraged by the director to ham it up as a "crazy". This "award-winning" cretin is insufferable and if Porn had the equivalent of Razzies I would nominate him every time out.
The FM radio station as a hook for Adult Cinema is a useful and
frequent ploy, most recently resulting in quality Brit Porn like "Radio
Erotica" and "Erotica FM". But back when he was still directing his
productions (using the fake name of "Walter Ego", Marc Dorcel muffed
this opportunity to mine that vein.
Instead we have a string of six sex scenes, loosely related and randomly inserted, supporting the story of a "love station" being inaugurated. When it finally goes on the air in the final reel, it's nothing more that sexy femme deejays telling sexy stories over the air for a jaded public to listen to and perhaps call in.
Pascal Saint-James does the lion's share of the humping as the head honcho of Hot Frequence, 95.2 on your Gallic FM dial, and his copious money shots merit applause. Not so Dorcel's script and direction, which fails miserably early on as job applicant, his label's superstar Melanie Coste, balks at Pascal's casual intimations of sexual harassment to come at her job interview, yet is soon on the payroll humping him and all her fellow workers without raising a false eyelash or brow in protest.
Attractive femme cast, which oddly consists only of small-breasted women, quite unusual for this era of Adult Cinema or any other, is worth staring at, but the sex for sex sake format is dull. Prettiest actress, named just Scarlet, is ridiculously cast as a maid cleaning up the station premises after hours; of course Pascal humps her, with his usual condescending (class system?) manner.
DVD contains as a "bonus" feature a 23-minute look at Venus Berlin 2002, a typical industry market/bourse where talent like Tera Patrick and Monica Sweetheart are featured in addition to Coste signing autographs and Dorcel popping up at his label's booth. Tera lectures us on the greatness of Larry Flynt, who shows up and is lionized by porn director Pierre Woodman, in the usual self-serving "freedom of expression"/1st Amendment (Tera's spiel) propaganda that keeps pornographers feeling warm and fuzzy. It's all quite quaint, for an industry that 15 years later is imploding with the free-content thrust of internet and technological changes.
*** This review may contain spoilers ***
Brad Armstrong and co-star Serenity's fine performance carry Jonathan
Morgan's ambitious "Pornogothic" over the finish line as a fine example
of Wicked Pictures quality back in its heyday, in the period around the
turn of this century. Label lingers on, but even long-time house
directors Morgan and Armstrong no longer live up to this high standard
Brad portrays corrupt police lieutenant Blake, tormented (and even hallucinating) by the murder of his wife Jill (Penny Swing in an effective NonSex cameo role) after a year of marriage. Her death eventually ties in with the feature's main vampire plot, as Shanna McCullough, delightfully dressed in goth and fetish gear and given SPFX makeup and androgynous voice at times, as the leader of a vampire cult headquartered at her S&M nightclub named Pornogothic.
Created as a vehicle for contract star Serenity, the intelligently scripted picture does not overemphasize her at all, but her empathetic performance is what helps make the story work. Brad is a self-divided anti-hero in noir tradition, replete with a slightly cryptic scene in a bar where instead of helping the owner after some thug kills another barfly while Brad is in the bathroom, our hero shoots the owner in cold blood and re-stages the crime as a failed robbery, for no apparent reason.
Vampire lore is adhered to scrupulously, with the screenplay carefully stressing in various scenes the admonition that a vampire must be invited in (to a home or place) by the potential victim. At one point Brad thinks he sees a vampire in his car's rear view mirror, but rather than violating the genre's rules, this is just one of his hallucinations.
Surprising plot twists abound, keeping the viewer guessing and fooling me at several key points. Even normal porn expectations are subverted, as in a late in film scene of Serenity going to a diner and paying for her meal with sex, the bald, old man running the place (Dave Cummings) positioned as a NonSex victim for her, but instead he humps her with XXX content as convincingly as any of the familiar porn studs in the cast.
Long list of big-name stars includes Stephanie Swift, sexy in a character role as a tough yet sympathetic hooker for Brad; Asia Carrera as the sexiest of the vamps, and smaller assignments for greats like Rebecca Lord, Sydnee Steele and Missy. In the final analysis, this script is far better than hundreds of mainstream vampire films, directed with skill by Morgan.
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