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xmag.com : December 2000 : Pornos for Primates

Pornos for Primates - adult movie review by Rex Breathes


RexEuro Anal Sluts #2

Euro Anal Sluts #2; VCA; Dir., John Decker; Stars: Laura Angel, Rebeca Kamava, Stephanie Silver, John Decker...

I’m watching this over Thanksgiving leftovers, which means I’m grateful not to be on the receiving end of the worst blow job I’ve ever seen, here in the opening scene of Euro Anal Sluts #2. First off, the guy has a dick the size of a chicken wing, and still the dick-a-phobic blonde barely plumbs the head with a reticent, yet, robotic mouth. I’ve got news for you honey: If you don’t like to suck dick, go back to Prague and clean toiletts, or something. Next, the young couple copulates on the flower print couch that looks like a liquidation sale item. I wonder what happens to all those slightly used, cum stained couches? Let’s hope they burn them. Knowing the cheap, idiot fucks who make this fabulous filth, they probably throw it in their Nissan pick-up and take it home. Back to the matter at hand; this is supposed to be Euro Anal Sluts #2, but she never even takes it in the ass! Hello?! What is this, an art film?! Scene two: A dick-a-phobic brunette gives a somewhat greater endowed John Decker such a pathetic blow-job, he stops her thirty seconds into her what-am-I-supposed-to-do-with-this-thing fumblings to fuck her... finally, in the ass. Thankyou. Close-up of the Euro slut’s strange, lipless cunt that looks like a pig’s smile. All in all, there’s very little actual ass fucking. More like timid, tired Euro Anal Slut wannabes. John Decker is a jerk. Maybe use this one to stuff the turkey, but definitely do not deck the halls with Decker’s tiny cave man balls.


Rocco’s Cocktales #6, Sex Animals; Sin City; Dir., Rocco Sifredi; Stars: Rocco, Milly D’Abraccio, Emmanuelle Cristadi... other long Italian names

 

This shot-on-film feature has a twisted 70s feel to it as we open at a board meeting with a bunch of men and women arguing in Italian about action figures... presumably, what their company makes. Who knows. Out of the unsane distance, one of the board members, who’s dressed in drag, jumps up on the long wooden table, hikes up his skirt and offers his ass to the woman chairman of the board. She mounts him wielding a strap-on (get-it, a new action figure) probably molded to resemble Rocco’s famous dick. Very Fellini. Another, actual woman hikes up her dress so some clown in a flower print shirt can attach brightly colored clothes pins to her labia—the clothes pins perhaps another product manufactured by this corporation. I don’t know. Like I said, they’re speaking Italian—the universal language of love. Or is that French? Or heroin? Anyway, all sorts of fucking and sucking breaks out in the board room. No siliconed breasts, no lame scene by scene set-ups, all coupled with the presence of actual pubic hair and raunchy (I assume) Italian dialogue, makes this a trip back in time to a dingy, cum-soaked inner city porno theatre, circa 1969. Sex Animals is exactly what you might see, stumbling from the glaring light outside into the forbidden rain coat shadows, hoping to find a seat that wasn’t wet. Invariably, the film was Italian, Swedish or Danish and had no plot, purpose or raison d’etre other than something to jerk-off to. If you could recreate such a film, before the Mitchell Brothers revolutionized porn and the invention of the super 8mm loop projectors, Rocco’s Sex Animals would be that movie. There is a subtle, but slightly insane genius at work here, as Rocco neither telegraphs nor explains his tawdry recreation here of early porn. He just springs it on you, the same way he unleashes his almost Holmes-like cock from his pants.

Rocco’s cast leaves the boardroom and goes prancing across a Dionysian meadow dressed in their 70s finery. At the edge of the wood, they disrobe and throw their clothes on a bonfire. In silly Satyr-like poses and prancing, they devolve into “Sexual Animals.” A woman eats a handful of weeds while sucking dick... hoping to regurgitate the semen later? Lots of crawling around naked on the good green earth in a send-up celebration of Nudist Colony films from the 60s. The “Sexual Animals” crawl, grunt and fuck their way back into civilization. Inside the techno wonder of a modern living room, they fumble like chimps with hair dryers, telephones, magazines, vacuums and settle in for more sex. This is a strange film that was strangely unarousing. Celebrating the raw, joyful naturalism of the sex act, like early porn, made me ponder the Free Love philosophy of the 60s and 70s. Maybe it wasn’t AIDS but the advent of the VCR that ruined the whole thing. They both debuted in ‘83. The VCR was the beginning of the techno, digital deluge that was to follow. And bury us. Sexual Animals is like watching Massman crawling out of that ensnarement, if only for a moment, to just have a little naked fun. Worth watching in case you forgot, or never knew, the early, boisterous, naturist innocence of pornographic film.

Voodoo Lounge

Voodoo Lounge; Sin City; Dir., Michael Raven; Stars: Amanda Rain, Aspen Brock, Bunny Love, Mirage, Kandee Loupes, Mark Davis, Jim Holliday. Evan Stone...


An innocent couple driving out on the lonely night road stop at a sleazy motel for directions. The veritable Jim Holliday gives his best Twin Peaks performance and refers them to the lounge next door. Turns out to be the Voodoo Lounge—the last chance to live it up before moving on to eternity. So, that’s the set-up; but what follows is a lot of forgettable sex scenes augmented by fog machine effects. The first scene features a happy hubby (or someone) watching his willing wife get nasty with Marc Davis—who looks like he could use a little more Rogaine (tm) these days. She definitely has the kind of silky-smooth, naughty girl pussy that you might wanna lick before you leave this earthly pain. She, too, sucks dick like she’s afraid to get her mouth full. It’s like I’ve stumbled into some bad cocksucking vortex. Nothing really lascivious, or lewd, or preternatural, or even voodoo-like about this Voodoo Lounge. More safe, couple-friendly fodder to feed the Beast of your friendly ATT adult pay-per-view provider. If this is the last stop before the end of the road, I think I want to go back a few miles before the millennium and do over. Wait to watch this when you’re on a business trip in Akron and you need to order something up, on the business account, to help you fall asleep.

Ghostly Desires


Ghostly Desires: VCA; Dir., Bud Lee; Stars: Evan Stone, Jessica Drake, Annie More, Gisselle Yum, Ian Daniels...

Evan Stone shows up to shoot on a haunted set where a husband and wife stunt team died during the “earthquake of ‘94.” I tell you, who comes up with this stuff. Now we’re into the shoot; Jessica Drake finally takes some dick in her mouth like she means it. He comes on her tits, then she suddenly disappears... like the Ghost of Cocksuck Past. Another ghost shows up in scene two, this time the male half of the stunt couple killed in an earthquake, to get his dick wet. This succubus/incubus theme continues ad nauseum with dentist chair jazz music under. Evantually (sic) Evan Stone and Jessica Drake have their big scene. Evan puts his mantool in her ghost pussy and rocks her undead world. The porn producers who come up with these premises need to get off the Prozac, or whatever mind and dick numbing drug their taking. Please be kind and rewind my mind to a time before I ever witnessed the ghastly Ghostly Desires.

X

More Pornos for Primates
from Rex Breathes


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