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9/10
Nearly a masterpiece
Davian_X14 January 2016
Warning: Spoilers
With all respect to lor_, one of the foremost chroniclers on IMDb of low- rent XXX junk, he missed the mark by a mile on this one. AAH is a superb verite mood piece that's well worth your time.

In typical exploitation style (as lor_ states, harking back to the '60s and beyond), the film presents a "last days" account of an anonymous Los Angeles prostitute. What's remarkable is the lyrical approach to the material. Rather than moralizing or condemning, the film seems to be presenting an honest look at her life, which vacillates between happiness and depression and don't necessarily get mired in a "woe is me" air of misery every time the clothes come off. To the contrary, scenes like the orgy at the mansion have a weird, dispassionate joy and beauty about them, and the film doesn't seem to necessarily present prostitution as the cause of all its protagonist's ills. Her final, jangled monologue, crudely as it may be recorded and delivered, nevertheless has a painful air of very real hurt, which for once more than justifies (SPOILER?) the usually pat suicide ending.

Recently released by Vinegar Syndrome in an uncut, 65-minute edition through its Exploitation.TV streaming service, AAH was initially only available through Something Weird, which had put it out in a print truncated by probably 6 or 7 minutes. While I haven't been able to ascertain all that's missing, there's about a minute or two more at both the head and tail of the film. Ironically, in the latter case, the extension may actually work *against* the movie, as while the Something Weird print ends with (SPOILER) our protagonist staring longingly into her bathroom mirror, then pouring a pile of pills into her hand before cutting to a spliced-on "The End" card, the uncut edition extends the sequence to show its aftermath - a bloody wrist-slashing that's honestly more than the film needs to show. We get it. Still, AAH is a bold and daring little hardcore gem in the '70s style, unafraid of taking risks and willing to fail in trying. What it may lack in polish it makes up for its openness to experimentation, and this quality certainly distinguishes it from the pack of pro forma one-day-wonders crowding the release schedules of companies like Something Weird and After Hours. Definitely worth a look for those seeking something different!
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8/10
Bleakly fascinating portrait of a prostitute
Woodyanders31 May 2016
Warning: Spoilers
Prostitute Carol (a fine and affecting performance by Mickie Lynn) services several johns in Los Angeles and begins to feel dejected about her dismal lot in life. Director Huck Walker deserves a lot of praise for his bold willingness to make this seamy snapshot of a few days in a sex worker's life as depressing and unerotic as possible: The sex scenes are graphic, but often sordid and hence decidedly less than arousing, the tone remains resolutely grim and gritty throughout, Carol's customers are a pretty homely and pathetic bunch, there's a potent central message about the heavy emotional toll that prostitution takes on the human soul, and the downbeat ending packs a devastating punch. Lynn's spot-on acting as the hauntingly tragic and troubled main character holds this picture together; she receives sturdy support from Candy Kay as heroin addict hooker Candy, Michael Pataki as Carol's deadbeat boyfriend, and Virgil Frye as a yoga-practicing hippie guru. Marred only by some seriously wonky sound issues, this grimy slice of seedy urban life overall sizes up as recommended viewing for Golden Age adult cinema aficionados looking for something daring and different.
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Pretentious porn tries way too hard
lor_3 August 2010
Wall-to-wall sex in a porn film or video gets no respect: people may like to watch it for stimulation but nobody has anything nice to say about it. ALL-American HUSTLER disastrously goes to the opposite extreme, being a pretentious piece of junk "with a message", whose director seems to have thought he was the next John Cassavetes rather than a XXX hack.

I found it interesting only as a throwback. In the mid-'60s much of the best softcore porn, typified by the Findlays and other NYC maestros, was underground, independent filmmaking following in Andy Warhol's footsteps. The line between porn and "experimental" had yet to be drawn. Later on porn became codified and regimented in format, and only a few risk takers, notably Joe Sarno and Chuck Vincent, tried to make real films.

But one "Huck Walker" turns the clock back ten years in HUSTLER, giving us a film that at times could almost be mistaken for an indie Spirit Award aspirant (both Sundance and the IFP had yet to be founded, however). Replete with countdown "day & time" cards superimposed scene by scene, the film limns the downward spiral of a prostitute, with a serious tone that would do Agnes Varda for CLEO FROM 5 TO 7 proud.

Mickie Lynn as anti-heroine Carol is effective in portraying existential despair, but even post DEVIL IN MISS JONES, this film's most obvious forebear, her act is hard to swallow (pun intended). Carol and the script simply protest too much; the viewer is fed up long before the predictable finale.

Carol's various tricks over a couple of days aren't very interesting -a bunch of ugly guys pawing her. I guess I made the Cassavetes connection (unwarranted) because they collectively reminded me of Val Avery in FACES, or his even more unseemly appearance mistreating Yoko Ono in SATAN'S BED. None dare call this entertainment, or significantly, stimulating porn.

No, pseudo-Huck is out to impress with his verbose (but very poorly recorded) dialog, studied to be seedy atmosphere, and inane digressions, notably several songs sung on camera to break up or perhaps comment on the action. An abstract extreme closeup of the forearm of Carol's best buddy, addict Candy (played by Candy Kay), shooting up heroin and bleeding for the camera, outdoes even Abel Ferrara/Zoe Lund's harrowing similar sequence in BAD LIEUTENANT.

Perhaps suicide is preferable to living "the life", as Carol argues in the final reel to Candy. Maybe self-important pornographers like "Huck" should take this lesson to heart, and do us all a favor.
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