The secret to longevity as a male porn performer is to be a ham. Here Evan Stone steals focus from the centerpiece of the scene in O2: The Surrender of O.
"I didn't mean to upstage her ass," Stone did not say (though I'm confident he might have), "I just thought it looked like the scene from 2001."
Strollin' in the Colon: postmodern porn for the new anal century
As you are well aware, Behind the Scenes (BTS) featurettes are often better than the porn movies they accompany on the same DVD. This is because the lightning in a jar that is a porn girl is never better captured than when she is caught texting her boyfriend, naked, while casually fluffing Alex Sanders.
You can throw plots and scripts and costumes and meth and makeup and C Lights at a performer but that only serves to dull the brilliance of someone you know will have sex - for money - with - if not you - then someone who lives next to you in Van Nuys. It is difficult to figure this out if she's dressed like a pirate. It is when she is pulling up to the studio parking lot with the dildo already inside her that you know this.
That is why director Richard de Montfort's Strollin' in the Colon is the porn movie of the future, because there is no movie at all. It is all about the green room labia shaving, bathroom preparations, and parking logistics of people like Harmony, Michelle Aston, Trinity Post, and Tyla Wynn. And then they all have sex in a room, almost as an afterthought.
No, Trondra, it isn't. But only when plot, direction, talent, and script match up perfectly will the porn feature cease to be anything but a disappointment. That is why we wait for my own It's The Great Goo Goblin, Charlie Brown-eye (to be funded with an NEA grant early in the next administration) and literally appreciate the shit out of, in the meantime, noble postmodern efforts like Strollin' in the Colon.
Does winning an AVN Award guarantee better sales? "You bet!" says everyone who ever won one, nervously clutching his collar and offering me a great deal on 144,000 unused AVN Award Winner stickers.
But the true value of any movie is the SWINE, or the Swag Index, an instrument I invented about 15 seconds ago. It measures the spread between the interest generated by the swag items to the quality of the movie itself.
A SWINE of 10 is a perfect score. It says that the movie is exactly what one would expect, considering the swag. Thus, Wicked's The Wicked [review] and Fallen [review] have perfect SWINEs; the movies were what I expected from swag boxes containing feathers and fake blood.
But Pirates 2 [review] exceeded my expectations from a box packed with a simple but almost functional hat (I might actually wear it, though ironically, because I am a hipster who still lives with his parents) and a t-shirt I'm sending, also ironically, to a third world nation. It would change my life for the better to see Sally Struthers standing over a crouched rice-eating refugee who is wearing a Pirates 2: Stagnetti's Revenge t-shirt. Pirates 2 receives a SWINE of 12.
Of course, Metro's X-Rated [review] goes into the Hall of Fame, because its swag box included alcohol.
Contributor Eddie Adams reviewed Pink Visual's Interracial Booty Patrol 5, starring "the mammoth-cocked Shane Diesel" (according to Diesel's contract, he is required to introduce himself that way, even at church).
Where Adams was fascinated by the cost-cutting efficiency of the multi-tasking "patrol," I couldn't get past the cover, which features a woman wearing an expression similar to the ones you see on people watching "The View" while on a treadmill at the gym.
She looks like she's paying more attention to the TV than what is happening in her own colon.
It is not because Digital Playground is chauffering me and my entourage to the Pirates II premiere as part of its Fellatio on Wheels promotion that I found Stoya's mouth (and its inclusion in the movie Stoya: Deeper 11) so compelling; it's just that I notice a tendency among porn personnel to avoid open-mouthed gapes of joy and instead cling to the habit of sticking their fingers or other body parts in their mouths rather than leave theirs, as Stoya does hers, either open to interpretation or a bouquet of flowers.
I realized Friday's post about faked miscarriages should be called Happy (False) Labor Day, but we all need to move on in light of this weekend's odd news about that free-thinking Palin family of Alaska.
Kudos to John McCain for so carefully vetting his choice of vice president. He deftly evoked historical V.P. choices like J. Danforth Quayle and employed contemporary themes such as those espoused in this year's Best Screenplay Academy Award winner Juno. (Or should I say Juneau?)
As promised, here is the review of Benny Profane's Hospital as well as a contribution from reader Chauncey Boyd concerning Hustler's Get Smartass.
Philosophy major and former AVN editor Eddie Adams contributed a review for VCA's Deep Inside box set that employed the phrase "dick-railed." It is a refreshing break from the brunt of my porn reviews that do not use the term "dick-railed."
As America's foremost critic of pornographic and pornotextual material (it even says so on my parking space), I am often asked, upon writing an unfavorable review of a movie, what right I have to say so if I have never directed or performed in a pornographic movie?
A reasonable question if one disregards the following two things:
Do I have to be a chef to appreciate good cooking? If I throw up, am I therefore a bad eater?
How come my credentials are never questioned when I give something a good review?
More and more I am falling out of love with porn features, those movies with stories and scripts, because too often the weight of the parts overwhelms the appeal of the movie's basic porniness. The inevitable disparity between hype and substance reveals limitations less ambitious movies don't have. I think a simple, cheap gonzo movie succeeds much more frequently than one that tries and fails.
I even see a little arrogance in some of the bigger feature efforts, as if just trying should be enough to justify and forgive a train wreck's failure. Only in school are we given grades for effort independent of success.
The features that most often fall afoul for me are the serious ones dealing with sexual obsession, darkest desires, and hidden secrets. People who can't act are not allowed to have those things. And sometimes even porn comedies, those things which I think are closest to the spirit of what getting naked on camera should be, also trip over themselves.
Of all the things that get jammed down the throat in a porn movie, the script should not be one of them.
I mention this because, oh man, I really didn't like Carolina Jones And the Broken Covenant, much as I like Ava Rose and Bree Olson. I wish it could have been a bunch of sex scenes with no script, costumes, or foreign locations. The money saved could have gone for a pizza party at the end of the school year.
Getting previously-released music into a movie - even a porn movie - is tough, but Circa '82 director Dave Naz had an in.
"Keith (Morris) asked if I wanted to use the Jerks' music in a movie," he said. "I took him up on it."
Naz, who grew up in L.A. and who was in his early teens circa '82, later played in bands with the Circle Jerks and Bad Religion, and is friends with original Jerks Morris and Greg Hetson. Prior to the Circle Jerks, Morris formed Black Flag, and Hetson founded Bad Religion during one of the Jerks' many breakups.
Morris even makes a cameo as an "old man." Ouch.
The only other musical coup that comes to mind with regard to porn movies is when Joanna Angel managed to get Rancid's "Time Bomb" on Joanna's Angels 2.
Circa '82 is a great movie. See a review here and a gallery here.
The Whore Within Me, Without You, or: Being for the benefit of Visual Blurr
With a title so fraught with porn's importance, I expected to not like this first-time effort by a New Sensations' director calling himself Visual Blurr.
But he clearly had been thinking about this movie for a long time, and had something to say. Some of his performers really oblige him, where others might just be working their shtick and cashing a check (which is their right, too). But you be the judge, because I've spent too much time talking about the space between us all.
My two favorite movies (so far) this year deal with the mating habits of okies, rednecks, the inbred, hillbillies, white trash, and the Dumb. Perhaps that is why they speak to me.
On the heels of Texas Vibrator Massacre comes Vivid's Miles from Needles, in which Savanna Samson utilizes her training as compromised Tennessee Williams heroines (no kidding) in dealing with the Southern Gothic tragedies of spousal abuse, meth addiction, and lesbianism.
"You can't be doing that lovey stuff when I'm on the phone with my mama!" she scolds her girlfriend.
Her partner in crime is April Blossom, who matches Savanna perfectly.
"I would have been sad if Savanna had been paired with an 18-year-old crackhead as her love interest," I said to director B. Skow. "How did you choose April Blossom?"
"I made sure she wasn't an 18-year-old crackhead and went from there," he said.
This is an excellent movie. For those who are interested in that sort of thing, Evan Stone dips his balls in a cereal bowl. Brian Surewood also has a small role (the movie was filmed in July, 2007, before his arrest) as a hooting loony, a character he developed in Joe Gallant's Avenue X.
Report: Roxy Deville alive, happy, not dead, bloody
Many people were concerned about this image of Roxy Deville I ran last week. This was merely a still from Rob Rotten's Texas Vibrator Massacre, in which Deville does not get the happy ending one normally sees in David Aaron Clark movies.
Deville is great in this movie. Of her casting, Rotten said, "I needed someone who wasn't blonde, could act, and was a bitch. Roxy was the first name that came up."
Women who smoke have always been appealing, from Bette Davis and Katharine Hepburn to, well, every female who smoked at my junior high school who later (and, in most cases, at the time) turned out to be slutty.
So that a porn fetish has emerged with smoking as its object is not surprising, though some of the things that happen in Julie Simone's wacky and endearing Smoking Interviews 3 really are, such as a pre-motherhood Gia Paloma recreating the conception of the title character of The World According to Garp.
Even in this environment of limited healthcare choices, a woman still has one or two options when choosing a gynecologist.
And I'm not normally the type of person to blame the victim, but if a woman opts to visit a gynecologist called "Dr. Probe," well, she probably has it coming. I mean, I wouldn't go to a hooker named Dentata.
Now assay, said Sir Ector unto Sir Kay. And anon he pulled at the sword with all his might; but it would not be. Now shall ye assay, said Sir Ector to Arthur. I will well, said Arthur, and pulled it out easily. And therewithal Sir Ector knelt down to the earth, and Sir Kay. Alas, said Arthur, my own dear father and brother, why kneel ye to me? Nay, nay, my lord Arthur, it is not so; I was never your father nor of your blood, but I wot well ye are of an higher blood than I weened ye were.
See the review of The Notorious Jewel De'Nyle and Shelly Martinezhere.
I spoke with Spunk'd: The Movie director Justin Kane at the recent XBiz Awards. As at the previous month's AVN Awards, Kane didn't win a goddamn thing.
"...yet it's one of the most torrented movies out there," Kane said.
Spunk'd has just been nominated for an XRCO Award. Luckily, porn's year-long awards season helps to keep a movie's name alive, though how much certain awards actually help sales is uncertain. By the time awards are announced, many companies lack either the money or the sense to buy those little stickers that video store owners would then have to stick on the box.
I thought Spunk'd was last year's best porn comedy - not to take anything away from Operation Desert Stormy, which won that category - but Spunk'd didn't pull punches by aiming at a couples' market, and everyone involved brought her or his A game. Standouts included Nick Manning, Penny Flame, Steven St. Croix, Marcos Leon, Katie Morgan, and a split-screened Hillary Scott.
I write a monthly He Said/She Said-style review column in XBiz with my ex common-law wife, Joanne Cachapero. We reviewed The Make Up in the February issue and got this reply from director Jason Green:
I doubt you will run this, but...
In the interest of equal time,
After reading the review of my movie “The Make Up” in the February issue of X Biz, I couldn’t help but notice that Joanne Cachapero and Gram Ponante write with a silly bantering style similar to some of the dialog in my movie, except theirs is not funny.
This hurt me deeply. My only source of validation is porn directors, now that Mitt Romney has suspended his campaign. Without their approval, who am I?
In fact their “humor” actually makes paint drying on a wall seem more entertaining. After reading Gram’s strong criticism, I decided to research some of the movies he made…as surely such a expert on adult cinema would have a large body of work. To my surprise, I found he has never made a porn movie, I know this may be shocking to none.
It's true. I have never made a porn movie; how, then, can I claim to be "a expert"? Only people who make porn movies should talk about them. Imagine the lively banter as Eon, Skeeter, Max, Rob, and Kurt get together for their weekly salons.
Gram strikes me as a bit bitter, I suppose I would be too if I spent my life analyzing triple anal bukkkae movies for little to no money.
While it's true that sometimes adult companies don't pay on time or at all, my checks from XBiz have always cleared when I've received them.
I know it's hard to get a bad review. One spends a lot of time putting a project together, perhaps cutting corners here and there, perhaps making an excuse or two, but still a lot of work nonetheless with a cast and crew that now and then doesn't give their all to your vision, only to be criticized by someone who wasn't there.
As in any medium, no one takes issue with the good reviews. But when we like a movie, then we "get it," and are "one of us." I've been surprised at the spitting, bitchy vitriol of people who once said they were my friends over my less-than-jubilant reviews of their masterworks.
What I like about this letter is the implication that only my bitterness (and poverty) prevented me from adoring this movie, and that "triple anal bukkkae" (whatever that is) is less important than what Green explores in his important, important film with Bill Margold in it.
Further (and this is a longer issue than can be tackled here), it's a tactic particular to the adult industry that relies on equating money with merit. To be frank, I'm as mercenary as anyone in Los Angeles; I don't work unless I'm paid for it. I wish I'd been paid to review a better movie.
I will leave you with one of my favorite quotes:
“Critics are just frustrated under achievers, who cannot create for themselves so they spend their lives tearing down the work of others”
Green draws from eclectic source material, as you can see here. One of my new favorite quotes that I've made up for the occasion is, "Go fuck yourself - at least then only one person will be disappointed." OMG look! I've created something!
That said, I've always liked Felix Vicious, and my review of The Make Up was neither harsh nor inaccurate. Read it here.
People tell me they often read the articles accompanying the pictures on this site, but I think they're lying.
Here, then, are a few dozen photographs chronicling our lives together this year, including this snap of Cousin Stevie that provides solid proof that pornography is a job - a fun job - but a job nonetheless.
Monique Alexander (and friends) find the limelight but come close to losing their souls in B. Skow's searing indictment of celebrity culture and threeways.
Alexander plays Sunrise, an ingenue with a dream of stardom. Can she realize it without compromising everything she believes in? Can she??
You know that the porn industry is built on the backs (and other parts) of the very young, but it was not always that way. Once upon a time, all someone had to be was willing.
The commoditization of filming someone new to porn and/or new to legal age is a phenomenon that has only been around for the past decade, and so many people are exposed to pornography that getting real reactions out of them when they get on camera is tricky.
That is why watching Vivid's Brand New Faces series is more of a lesson for us than it is for the people on screen for the first time.
Read more after the gap.
"We have a money back guarantee," said director B. Skow. "If you can find this girl anywhere else on film doing a scene before this one was shot, you get your money back."
"You mean a commercial video, or the Internet..."
"Yes."
Brand New Faces is both a website and a DVD series featuring women who have never before had sex on camera for pay. Why is this so important?
"Because after awhile you can see people phoning it in," Skow said.
Skow, who picked his porn name 15 years ago - in haste - and now wishes he had chosen something cool like Gram Ponante or Ronnie James Dildo, performs a lengthy interview segment with each girl as she prepares for her scene. Prior to this, Vivid vets the talent.
"Have you ever caught anyone lying?" I asked.
"We did," he said, "and we busted her." Skow said that he's hoping to start a "Busted" section on the site in which women who clearly have been in porn before, whether under a different name or (as was the case Skow mentioned) a day or two prior to the Brand New Faces shoot, get their comeuppance.
"I'll even call them on: 'Who told you how to put your finger in your mouth?' I really want people who haven't done this before."
As in America, there is a dwindling middle class in porn. But in porn the attraction is either being new or famous. In this case, the middle class is women who've been around for between a month and three years who will never be Tera, Jenna, or Belladonna. And the promise of someone new is intoxicating.
"You've got a tiny fucking pussy," Skow says to Taylor Jones. "Where's the hole?"
A 25-year-old hairdresser named Makali Chanel is new to the business but she clearly knows what she wants.
"I'm the Porn Princess," she says about a thousand times.
But the real find of the DVD is Courtney James, who mentioned she turned 18 last December.
"You'll be 19 pretty soon," Skow says. "You're getting old."
"Don't say that," she says.
Skow tells her how to hold her breasts for an upward camera angle.
"Hold your tits over the top of the nipple and push them together," he says.
James is from South Carolina, natural, and adorable. She arrives at the studio wearing khaki shorts and a t-shirt, like she just got off her job at the ice cream stand. She smiles toothily and has a great scene with Sascha, who can't believe his good luck.
"Sascha's one of those guys who really loves girls," Skow says at one point begging the question: Are there men in porn who don't like girls?
Like most gonzo porn shot by its director, Brand New Faces features a lot of Skow talking. He manages to walk a fine line between respectful distance, honest admiration, and sounding creepy.
"But there's a market for Ed Powers, too," Skow hastens to add.
Brand New Faces #1 features four women, some of whom seem more innocent than others. What separates them is their enthusiasm. There is at least one person in the movie I don't think we'll be seeing much of in the future, whereas James might get a contract.
What is especially valuable about Brand New Faces is that the women don't need too much coaching to appear like they've been doing this for a year.
Earlier in our lives together I told you about Moxxie Maddron and The Instigator, a movie that sounded a bit like the plot of a ZZ Top video. Well, I've finally seen the movie and I can tell you that parts are actually more like a Whitesnake video which, for my money (not that I paid for it), is a better value.
Of further interest is the soundtrack by the band Lynam, who have cleverly (or not so cleverly) claimed to be the children of Stevie Nicks and Ronnie James Dio. Since my real name is Ronnie James Dio, I found this factoid compelling. Turns out it's not true and the band is shocked anyone believed the joke.
Not that this is a story of James Frey or JT LeRoy proportions, but in my defense I offer that the best thi
The secret to longevity as a male porn performer is to be a ham. Here Evan Stone steals focus from the centerpiece of the scene in O2: The Surrender of O.
