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Deeper
 Studio: Digital Playground
Director: Robby D.
Cast: Sophia Santi, Sativa Rose, Charlotte Stokely, Jessi Summers, Roxy Deville, Faith, Jayna Oso, Jenna Presley, Kaiya Lynn, the spirit of Jesse Jane
I can imagine the pitch for "Deeper" at Digital Playground's sprawling Van Nuys compound.
"Now don't freak out, but the last scene may or may not contain necrophilia."
(pause)
"Adella, would you call Security?"
---
Digital Playground makes great efforts to stay on the cutting edge of newer technology, becoming early adopters of the DVD and, when HD came around, making sure the porn world knew that they made the switch. They were iPod-friendly faster than their peers and they have made the decision to go Blu-Ray when that becomes widely available.
Some may find it disturbing, then, that director Robby D. opens the movie with a shot of Sativa Rose pleasuring herself on the floor, her head jerking around Ring-style. Just because you can use techniques popularized by mainstream movies (the CG skeletons in Pirates, for example), doesn't mean it's effective.
But for me, I was all like: "Hot Ghost."
Santi appears in the next scene. A man is pressed against a pane of glass. She treats the glass like she should be treating him (Santi is still being eased into a full-on pornstress role and does not have genital contact with another man in this movie).
The rest of the scenes follow a theme of voyeurism. Robby D., who comes off as your best friend in the wackier Jack's Playground movies (and who seems to be helming, with the more couples'-friendly Celeste, about a thousand movies a month for Digital Playground), gets darker than he does deeper, starting with an elegant couple engaging in foreplay amid shots of their dinner (some kind of tuber?) and the recessed face of what appears to be a stalker.
While the film is style-heavy it doesn't interfere too much with the substance of the movie, which still features languid shots of moody, high-strung vixens. And a strangely-fetishized dinner.
Well, make that a strangely-fetishized dinner and an inappropriately-fetishized Jesse Jane. A man uses a portrait of Jesse Jane as a marital aid in his scene with Kaiya Lynn. Someone had mentioned this scene to me as having some Jesse product placement in it, but this was ridiculous. Seriously. It was ridiculous. At one point the portrait of Jesse Jane was literally between the couple, and it was the portrait that reaped the fruit of their strivings, as it were.
I believe that was the first threesome I've ever seen with a picture as the third party. Other than my six-foot cutout of Chewbacca, but Chewie's more of a person.
The scene with the least baggage is one between exceptionally-white Utah native Charlotte Stokely and Scott Nails, who appears throughout this movie and is becoming one of the hardest working men in show business.
Deeper is also the first gonzo film that has a resolution. We revisit Santi and her glass-frustrated friend in the penultimate scene. In a sequence of loving shots of Santi's face underneath the glass, the man finally let's go atop it. It's not so arty that it's distracting. In fact, it's riveting. (I'm not sure I could take a movie full of it, though, because Catherine would have to file an injunction.)
Deeper ends anti-climactically, literally. A man comes across (but not too much) a prone lower half of a woman (Sativa Rose again - no wonder she looked otherworldly before) under a coverlet. He avails himself of what is visible. The audience is happy to learn via a few leg twitches that his scene partner is, in fact, alive. (Insert ex-wife joke here.)
I hate to use crass language in describing a porn movie, but he delivers the smallest load I've ever witnessed. No wonder he couldn't summon much up, though; she was just lying there.
Ultimately, Robby D.'s twisted sense of humor and fun come out in the last scenes. It's enjoyable to watch the movie moving toward a conclusion through several thoughtfully-orchestrated sequences that deliver where they should. It's also nice to know the director is keeping himself interested.
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Britney Rears 2: I Wanna Get Laid
 Studio: Hustler
Director: Will Rider
Cast: Britney Rears, Sunny Lane, Jenaveve Jolie, Nadia Styles, Eva Angelina, Hillary Scott, Shy Love, Kapri Styles, Nyomi Marcela, Nikki Hilton
As the treachery of Hyman Roth and Michael Corleone's fall from innocence were central to the plot of Godfather Part II, questions concerning who really sings Britney Rears' songs are the foundation of this sequel, which many believe exceeds the high standards set by its predecessor. Never take sides against your dancers, Britney.
"It dudn't get any crazier dan dis!" observes a starstruck narrator, introducing scenes from the decadent life of Britney Rears, embattled porn pop tart.
In this installment, Rears is being accused of lip-synching; the press is giving her a hard time about her philandering lazy-ass husband, Kevin; and her dancers hate her. Even her management team cannot spare her a kind word. And in the trappings of a standard Hustler movie, with a required amount of sex scenes, groupings, and positions therein, director Will Rider has managed to deliver a movie that comments on both the adult industry and the greater entertainment industry it seeks to emulate.
A bank of microphones at a Rears press conference include representatives of adult trade publications AVN and XBiz, neither of which owns microphones or its own digital camera. This is a means of courting some of the few outlets available within the adult industry to single out one of the thousand porn movies released every month. Where was the GramPonante.com microphone???
Through zoom-laden interview segments and meaningless sex in Porn Valley mansionlettes, Britney Rears' life—and yours by extension—is revealed to be an empty joyride with The Void at the end. That Rears' own lip-synching is never resolved is indicative of the responsibility-free lives the damned lead.
Indeed, Rears herself is a secondary player in her own story, with longer scenes reserved for the likes of Jenaveve Jolie and Eva Angelina. This can be expected in a life totally out of her own control.
The only throughline in her existence, other than despair and blowjobs, is the blue tarp she and Shy Love use to fuck Scott Nails at her press conference (in front of the media elite, no less); it is the same one she uses at her mountainside mansion.
When her last breath escapes her lips at the end of Britney Rears 3 (word is there will be a different Britney), it will undoubtedly carry the words "Blue Tarp."
(The above was my original final line when I submitted this review to Fleshbot, but my editor added the following:
"Kind of like the end of 'Citizen Kane', except, like, not."
I am confident my urbane readers would have known that already, regardless of whether "Blue Tarp" was a dumb joke or not.)
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Hotel Bliss
 Studio: Suze Randall/PurePlay Media
Director: Big Bad Onxxx
Cast: Autumn Bliss, Mya Luana, Gigi, Sandra Shine, Samantha Ryan, Celeste, Jasmine, Kurt Lockwood, Scott Nails
Veteran adult photographer Suze Randall produced this movie about an erotic hotel (proprietrix: Autumn Bliss) in which "fantasies hold sway and forbidden desires become sensual realities". Yes, it's that kind of movie.
A little while ago I passed gracefully out of a particular freewheeling and tolerant demographic and lately have been noticing certain prejudices creep in. Of the two (the other concerns the decisions I make about people who park badly), the more extreme is the one I've formulated around Couples' Films and the people who buy them. Suze Randall hired a guy named Big Bad Onxxx (of course) to direct this very well-lit movie, featuring sets that weren't just thrown together and lingerie that looked like the most expensive stuff one could buy off the rack of certain underpants-outlet establishments. The women were pretty and their makeup was porn-flawless. This is true of many couples' movies. An additional characteristic is that the sound is awful. The director Celeste at Digital Playground avoids this by making all her glossy movies nothing but music videos in which no one says anything. This masks a multitude of ills, the biggest one being that many porn performers are sexy right up until they open their mouths to speak (opening their mouths for anything else extends the sexy a little longer). The capable and sassy performer Autumn Bliss is our narrator through several boy/girl, girl/girl, and solo girl vignettes taking place in different parts of a loft. In the first scene Bliss looks poutingly at the camera and taps herself tentatively with a feathered paddle. A knock is heard from somewhere behind the camera. "Come in," she says, and from a set of curtains opposite where the knock came from a robed man enters and they get into it. Was he supposed to have knocked on the curtains? It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter in spades. The performers in this movie are so conditioned to the structure, the pout, the walk, the phoned-in groaning, that they cease to seem real. They would do better as a series of exquisitely shot still images. This feeling was broken up briefly in a scene with Kurt Lockwood in which the much-mailgned performer dresses and acts like the young Robert Evans in the latter's "Coke makes what I say interesting" phase. Only Mya Luana seems to transcend the staginess of the production, flashing an engaging smile now and then. What made this movie worth it for me was the behind the scenes footage. Everyone is so much more alive and likeable when laughing at themselves, the crew, or sitting around the set. For most porn movies that are shot to fulfill a quota rather than a need, it is the behind the scenes footage of the interesting people who do this for a living that redeems everything.
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Atomic Vixens: Escape from the Valley of the Sluts
 Studio: VCA
Director: Ron Royster
Cast: Lacie Heart, Mika Tan, Justine Joli, Jade Starr, Ashley Steel, Leah Luv, Marie Luv, James Deen
With a Mexican surf rock theme song topping a soundtrack of MySpace bands, a loosely connected comic book plot about an evil organization (L.I.M.P.) bent on controlling Earth’s women, and a trippy series of scenes with game performers like Lacie Hart, Mika Tan and Justine Joli, Atomic Vixens: Escape from the Valley of the Sluts (whatever that means) is the perfect porn confection to bring together that hard-to-please cholo, lipstick lesbian, and Vatican emissary crowd in one non-threatening embrace.
Filmed in Erotivision, less a technology than a philosophy summarized by director Ron Royster’s earnest wish to “just want to eat pizza with pretty girls, man,” Vixens is a Pretty Girl-heavy evolution of American International Pictures like Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine that delivers where the good doctor did not; the bikinis come off and the go-go girls go-go for each other.
Each scene in Vixens is introduced with a comic book storyboard that is a helpful way of setting apart what might normally be formulaic sex scenes from their counterparts in similar-budget movies. What makes “Vixens” an instant party classic (I, personally, no longer attend these parties, but still) is the glee with which tarted-up space-babe Mika Tan does a full Bond-girl scrim dance (and screams “I taste like dog!” in Tagalog during her scene with Jade Starr) or extra-bendy Justine Joli performs a solo scene in which she rips her lime-colored tights and bites her own toe.
Another way Vixens digresses from formula is the paucity of scenes with guys. James Deen seems to appear as an afterthought, a last-minute attempt to hit certain marketing points. Not needing to share the restroom with anyone, he delivers an equally-hammy performance to the ladies. Royster seems less concerned with giving screen time to the fellas in this movie than creating a male-gaze Sapphic Wonderland. And he succeeds.
This movie is chock-full of pretty girls doing sassy, non-threatening things. As such it appeals to the widest cross-section of porn’s current audience for video-based product: couples and the emerging “alt” market (I can’t bring myself to use the word “alt” without quotes just yet, the same way I write “President”). It creates its own niche.
Watching Vixens, I thought that people who enjoy technicolor Elvis movies, the original Pink Panther‘s ski lodge party scene, tiki culture, and especially old Playboys would really dig it.
In Octavio Arizala’s guest-directed scene, a pairing of soon-to-be-Vivid Girl Lacie Heart (Vixens was shot in November ‘05, and Heart signed with Vivid early this year) and Ashley Steel, the two play fembots in an Esquivelian spaceship. We don’t really know why they’re there or what they are doing, but it looks nice. Heart screams “Give me head” in Latin.
Disc Two features extended photo galleries as well as a ponderous but engaging behind-the-scenes documentary and manifesto by Cat Purcell, aka Cat Pee. With an arresting Upper Peninsula Michigan accent, Purcell combines backstage footage of the shooting of the movie in downtown Los Angeles and at Hollywood’s hipster transient hotel, the Vibe, with her theories about what makes good lesbian erotica (“if any girl tapped my clit for fifteen minutes like you see in ‘lesbian’ porn movies, I’d kick her in the head,” she snarls) as well as musings from her own body of knowledge culled from her then-three weeks’ experience with the adult industry.
To be fair, one can learn all about the vicissitudes and heartbreak of the adult industry in a short time but, like hobbits, it can still surprise you after a hundred years. Particularly vexing is Purcell’s adamant fluffer denial. There are fluffers; they are just rare, like angels.
While this bit of juvenilia should probably have been put on the extras of Purcell’s upcoming Alpha 15 movie, including as it does footage of Purcell as a standup comedian in Kansas City and a scene with Ron Jeremy as Jesus welcoming her into the porn community (!), this documentary is nothing if not earnest, and is a welcome departure from cynical and phoned-in BTS footage one might see everywhere else.
My favorite snippet is of Royster describing 11th-hour douche purchases at a Hollywood Rite Aid. “We were giggling like junior high kids,” he said.
The two-disc set arrives in a swanky DVD box with an inner sleeve reminiscent of, yes, a record album. This practice started with VCA’s tentpole release of Eon McKai’s Neu Wave Hookers earlier this year and shows no signs of abating.
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Ashley Blue's Attention Whores #6
 Studio: JM Productions
Director: Ashley Blue
Cast: Ashley Blue, Taryn Thomas, Tiger, Naudia Nyce, Tiffany Rayne, Sasha Knox, Tory Lane
Imagine the rarefied world little Apple and Moses Coldtrow will grow up in. If they are lucky, they will be shielded by wealth and fame to the degree that they will not experience the danger such names might visit on them in a Bogue Chitto schoolyard. Most of us do not live in that world, and imagine having such names a little shocking.and impractical. It is the same for people on the outside of the porn snowglobe looking in, particularly for those who try to parse the output of a company called JM Productions.
JM Productions, founded by Jeff Mike Steward, delivers extreme content like the Gag Factor and American Bukkake series. As a high-output producer of such material, JM is often lumped together with companies like Extreme and Max Hardcore. I can't speak for the budgets or camera styles of these companies, but JM Productions (and a client they distribute, Chatsworth Pictures), continually offer grim humor along with the cum-swapping and asshole-stretching.
Ashley Blue is like the first friend your mom met after the divorce—the one who doesn't like kids. She's a hot party girl with a small-breasted pornette's no-nonsense and wry take on life. Her series Attention Whores features Blue's interviews with the women who will be appearing in a sex scene later. Each plays an exaggerated version of herself, an "attention whore" porn starlet.
Lower-budget porn movies, because they are shot in a day or two and are released at most a few months later, can be relied upon to be very topical. They are also intimate (often too intimate) portraits of the performers, especially in Behind the Scenes (BTS) sequences, which in JM and Chatsworth Pictures productions provide an excellent insider's snapshot of the loves and losses of today's Porn Valley.
Blue snarkily interviews the likes of Tiger, Taryn Thomas, Naudia Nyce (Blue: "You've got the Belladonna thing going." Nyce: "Shuttup"), and Tory Lane, each of whom gamely tries to outstrip Blue in Attention Whorishness. That the gallows humor of these shows is funny because its true makes the sex an afterthought, although it is great to blah blah Tory's blah blah Blue blah blah Sasha Knox blah. It would have been a great sex movie had no one talked, but they did, and for me the talking was much more interesting.
Tiger's enlisting the camera crew to shave her perineal area (BTS) was horrifying. Her encountering a stalker who was also one of the male talent was Business As Usual. "Porn guys are possessive and immature," came an offstage voice, at which point Tiger explained how she beats enemies with bats. A cumshot across Tiffany Rayne's philtrum interrupted her monologue. "I was talking," she said. It wasn't an act, really.
Ashley Blue, interviewing an equally cynical Sasha Knox, who had just explained she was an emo girl, asked "so is this a platform for you to jump off from your porn career into mainstream success?" The jokes were not even winks to thew audience as much as they were to industry regulars, who go from zero to Jaded within a few hours of entering the industry.
Standout performers are Taryn Thomas and Nyce (onscreen) and Tiger (backstage). Blue is, as always, trenchant. If Apple and Moses ever watch one of these movies, their heads might explode.
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Nina Hartley's Guide to Female Ejaculation
 Studio: Adam & Eve
Director: Ernest Greene
Cast: Hartley, Mika Tan, Anna Mills, Angela Stone, Trent Solauri
Until Nina Hartley threw her two cents in, I used to look no further than Bill Moyers' exhaustive 10-part documentary on the subject when I sought to understand female ejaculation. With trusty sidekick Mika Tan filling in for Joseph Campbell, Hartley explains the psychological, biological, and commercial reasons for squirting, reassuring her audience several times that it's not just pee.
I don't know if she owes anyone money, but aside from that possibility it is impossible not to like Nina Hartley. She is warm, kind, amiable, and knows her stuff. She also demonstrates on live, naked porn stars how to make a woman ejaculate.
Hartley's various How To series for Adam & Eve are long on the theory but don't skimp on the application. She explained the ins and outs of female ejaculation, admitting that she herself has never done it. "Ejaculation is something females can experience easily, occasionally, or never," she says a little ruefully, noting that the distance between the G-spot and the urethra can be a deciding factor in whether or not a woman can pull it off, as it were.
Hartley demonstrated on the always-game Mika Tan (and later on Anna Mills, much more graphically and with a vertical speculum) just where everything was, providing an engaging lecture with plenty of visual aids.
That women can have harmless retrograde ejaculations that send fluid back toward the bladder; that female ejaculation requires both the pelvis and the G-spot to work in concert; and that ejaculation is not necessarily orgasm were all news to my viewing partner. I of course nodded "Yes, yes obviously" to each factoid because I'm, like, so an expert on the topic.
Now and then the banter between Hartley and her subjects was only a little better than awards-show patter. In the film's only honest-to-God porn scene, Angela Stone and Trent Solauri have the following dialogue before she demonstrates a squirt brought on the old-fashioned way:
Solauri: Am I too early?
(beat)
Stone: You're right on time.
(pause)
Solauri: Should I have brought my galoshes?
(silence)
Stone: Very funny.
In Mills and Stone, Hartley and partner/director Ernest Greene have found two women for whom ejaculation is easy. Hartley repeats that not every woman has that ability, thus easing the minds of people confused by the porn world's recent interest in squirting as a result of gushing virtuousos like Cytherea and Tiana Lynn.
Hartley says that one can't be demure and ladylike while soaking the sheets, so why bother worrying? The movie is just as much about the mechanics of squirting as it is about relieving oneself of the pressure to do so.
Watching Mills ejaculate, as Tan remarked, "under laboratory conditions" and Stone squirt "in the field" with Solauri is much more of a revelation after Hartley has explained the procedure.
I have watched instructional videos for everything from Microsoft Access to Microsoft Visio, and Nina Hartley's Guide to Female Ejaculation is by far the best one. And will no doubt prove to be the most useful.
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Squealer
 Studio: Hustler
Director: Jack the Zipper
Cast: Kimberly Kane, Audrey Hollander, Jassie, Smokie Flame, Felix Vicious, Otto Bauer
I know the movie was made in 2004 and released in 2005, but I just finished watching Jack the Zipper's Squealer an hour ago and, unlike many porn films, I still remember it.
Fellas, if you're the type to dream of a farmhouse full of consensually bruisable porn girls and you yourself don't have a face, this film is for you.
While Squealer is not a light-but-poignant arthouse romp like, say, Millions or Muriel's Wedding, don't believe detractors who say it is not a couples' film. The significant other who cuddles up to you to watch this Grapes of Wrath-meets-Deliverance-meets-Charlotte's Web-meets-Audrey Hollander's mouth is a keeper. In fact, you could probably keep 'er tied up in your basement.
This movie never stops being spookily and artfully shot, but it also doesn't collapse under those things (like Michael Ninn's Catherine did), despite an abrupt change of gears at the beginning of the movie in which several setup shots of a bleak farmhouse and its sepia envrons give way to sex that doesn't abate throughout the movie. Zipper adheres to the porn necessity of enough lindering shots of performers' precious real estate to justify minite-by-minute VOD sales.
In a weekend in the country not unlike a version of The Big Chill I might enjoy, the first scene starts with a bang. Several women writhe on a rug, only to be interrupted most entitledly by male talent who are only shot below the collar. As the movie continues it becomes clear that the target demographic is straight males and the women who love to service them in extreme environments: In other words, it doesn't matter that we don't see men's faces.
Each pale woman gets dirtier and more bruised as the action progresses to a barn, boathouse, and swamp around the property. Hustler's legal department has of late erred on the side of restraint in light of recent anti-porn rumblings in the government, but Squealer pushes many envelopes pertaining to bondage and rough sex, particularly in a scene in which Hollander's head is eased to a table set with a nearby arrangement of steak knives.
With the sounds of sex coming from a dub track and the occasional performer looking directly at the camera with full porn vogueing, this movie occasionally taps a hole in an otherwise complete picture of the creepy house in the woods where strange things happen. Strange, beautiful, dirty things.
The movie gets more and more graphic, but never blatant and gimmicky. Zipper's style of art-directed wall-to-wall sex movie is rare, so it will be interesting to see how he fits into Hustler's new "Hardline" extreme sex imprint.
In the meantime, Squealer is an intense little movie.
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 Studio: VCA
Director: Joanna Angel
Cast: Angel, Kylee Kross, Sabrina Sparx, Pinkie Lee, Pixie Pearl, Dana DeArmond, Charlotte Stokely, Tommy Pistol, Mr. Marcus, James Deen
With Mr. Marcus as President, decidedly un-Porn Valley shots of New York in the snow, two classic Rancid songs on the soundtrack, and Joanna Angel doing all the things she does best (mainly being disarming), Joanna's Angels 2: Alt Throttle can only prolong the Joanna bubble for her fans and confound those who still don't get it.
Many people can't get past the phenomenon of Joanna Angel and, by extension, the alt scene, whatever that is, in order to watch and enjoy what Angel herself calls " a silly movie."
People looking for flaws need search no further than the title sequence, in which the name of the movie is misspelled. Dropped lines, creeping shadows all over the set, and a sense that the movie is being performed for a roomful of sympathetic friends is pervasive. But that's not the point: Angel and company are performing to bigger and bigger roomfuls of sympathetic friends who are happy to watch Angel do her thing as a mixtape of the people and stuff she finds cool.
JA2 concerns the kidnapping of the President's daughter (Dana DeArmond, a millennial pinup if one was ever invented) by Charlotte Stokely, Angel's jealous blonde rival who wants to blackmail the President into destroying all things Alt. Complicating matters are James Deen's breakup with Angel for her tattoos and alt-y ways ("I hope you have fun with your normal girlfriend!" she cries) and Tommy Pistol's betrayal at the hands of Pixie Pearl, prompting a low-speed car-stunt sequence.
JA2 is a screwball comedy ideally, but sometimes the lines—and there are a lot of them—get tossed away by the cast. This would matter more if Angel didn't put together a fine crew of standbys and temporary residents of her Williamsburg loft, including sassy firecrackers Sabrina Sparx and Kylee Kross. DeArmond, who played Traci Lords in Eon McKai's Neu Wave Hookers, is just a little bit breathtaking when she is de-programmed of Stokely's agenda by being made to come by Pistol and Sparx.
People who keep track of this sort of thing will note that, hot on the heels of Angel's first interracial scene with Marcus on the set of House of Ass, she called him back to join in an interracial double-penetration of her vital areas with James Deen. "He's a sweetie," Angel said of Marcus.
In porn, as in life, a sense that people are having a great time goes a long way to getting you on their side. This feeling is palpable in Joanna's Angels 2. I don't know of any other production boasting "mainstream" crossover appeal that could manage to land not one but two songs that might otherwise net thousands of dollars in licensing for a Cameron Crowe movie or similar, but Angel did it. Who do you have to blow for a deal like that?
It is also fun to watch Angel and her friends just being goofy. It gives hope to goofy people everywhere.
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Faith's Fantasies
 Studio: Team Tyler/Black Widow
Director: Wankus
Cast: Tyler Faith, Rebecca Love, Sandra Romain, Jenna Haze, Mari Possa, Regan Anthony
A working class hero is something to be.
Tyler Faith, like Pepper Dennis, keeps getting in crazy snafus. Her fantasies lead to embarrassing situations ... like that time when she got fucked with a nightstick. Is Hollywood atwitter with talks of Faith as a midseason replacement?
With her unabashedly unreconstructed Boston accent, Pride of Saugus Tyler Faith gets to have her way with porn's hard-working middle class in this movie, which wastes little time setting up six scenarios that lead to one thing: Faith manhandling the ladies.
Faith was a stripper before she was a porn star, and she still works the clubs many weekends. The result is that, ten-odd years in, she's toned and muscular. Not body builder ripped, but strong. Seeing her in the first scene with skeletal Jenna Haze makes one think that Haze isn't living right. Regardless, Haze climbs Tyler like a bee on a hive after Faith fantasizes the porn-wraith into existence from a spread in Genesis magazine.
Director Wankus doesn't spend a lot of time examining his real-life fiancee's reactions to all her dreams coming true, because this movie didn't have a Harry Potter budget. Instead, things go from zero to girl-on-girl-on-girl action pretty quickly.
Blue-collar hotties such as Rebecca Love and Regan Anthony join starlets like Kinzie Kenner and Mari Possa along with veterans Brooke Haven and Nicole Sheridan for scenes in which all the points get hit. Sandra Romain plays a saucy maid. Aside from actual pretty girls, there is nothing "pretty girl" about this movie; everything is pleasantly dirty.
Faith's fun reactions to being caught daydreaming with her hand in her pants are entertaining, but even better are tossed off lines like the one she delivers to Mari Possa, who plays a massage therapist:
"God, you have such fuckin' healin' hands."
The scene that might cause alarm is the three-way with Faith, Kinzie Kenner, and Nicole Sheridan playing a nun. I think that any nun who wears a sleeveless habit should expect fantasies popping up about her now and then, but the strap-on and the "Who wants to fuck Jesus?" dialogue are just a little incongruous with the tamer and slightly-more-credible aspects of the movie.
Not that, having already been told by the nuns that I'm going to Hell, it wasn't fun to watch.
This is a solid movie made by a small studio. Everyone knew each other on set and the craft services consisted of pizza. The cast works for a living and it shows. You can forgive them for fantasizing now and then.
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Jack's Playground 30
 Studio: Digital Playground
Director: Robby D.
Cast: Jenaveve Jolie, Rita Faltoyano, Taryn Thomas, Renee Richards, Jelena Jensen, Marlena
Digital Playground's Jack's Playground series has now reached its 30th episode, but instead of a tedious and self-congratulatory retrospective with guest stars like Lee Majors and Dawn Wells, Jack's Playground 30 features Rita Faltoyano swimming and Jenaveve Jolie watching Fear.com without pants on.
Director Robby D. shoots several series for Digital Playground: Control, My First Porn, Jack's Teen America, and Jack's Playground. The latter is the oldest series and Robby D., as the cajoling behind-the-camera character Jack, is constantly amazed at his good luck that such attractive women come to the house. This is apparent in lingering shots of Jolie and Faltoyano that do not result in the overall creepy feeling one gets from similar introductions in other videos.
The mood is always amicable in these movies, save for the occasional intra-adult industry snipe, and the action moves quickly.
The threadbare plot of this gonzo involves women being duped into performing in a music video. Sometimes the plot shows up and other times it isn't anywhere to be found. The locations are sunny, open, and inviting, and don't have the nouveau riche look of many Valley McMansions rented out to porn companies.
The most important thing is that all the talent is smiling and look like today is a good day to be alive. That goes a long way. This is the atmosphere Robby D. creates. In the "Jack" movies he avoids draping the productions in the doom that awaits us all. Porn should be fun.
Standout scenes include those of Taryn Thomas, Faltoyano, Jolie, and the no-nonsense British performer Renee Richards, whose performance at a grand piano had to be dubbed, we think, because she was playing something which required rights for broadcast. How we are allowed to watch snippets of Fear.com in Jolie's scene is a puzzler, using this logic.
Scott Nails shows up in the Faltoyano and Jolie scenes, the lucky bastard, and sports the marks of a parrot attack in the second.
What the low-budget/high entertainment Jack's series says is that even people gored by birds can have a piece of the American dream.
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The Contractor
 Studio: Adam & Eve
Director: Daniel Dakota
Cast: Carmen Luvana, Austyn Moore, Charmane Star, Taryn Thomas, Evan Stone, Randy Spears, Barrett Blade
Daniel Dakota’s unflinching vision of sex in the building trades is as potent now as when it was filmed over three days in August of 2005. Carmen Luvana, Austyn Moore, and Charmane Star prove that a working class hero is still something to be.
The next time you come over, let’s get loaded and really watch this movie.
This blunt little tool we call the InterWebNet is not enough to describe this rollicking tour de force of a film.
Two guys meet in front of a house with tarps and implements of construction draped over it. “Hey man, what’s so interesting about this house?”
“Just wait, man; they haven’t shown up yet.” Cut to Luvana, Moore, Star, and Thomas walking abreast in slow motion, laden down with tools and boobies. “Whoa!” If I were the type of person to snap you with a towel, I would say: “Bro, it doesn’t get any better than this.” Luvana is a building contractor who is pressed for time. Her employees keep having sex on the job. They are concerned about her because “she really needs to get laid.” In addition to Luvana’s obvious frigidity, her client is pressuring her to finish the house in two weeks and the building inspector has a list of violations. “You’d better fucking get this done,” Luvana says to her employees, “and come up with a stragety.” The stragety involves shots of backhoes being operated on different days than the shots featuring the porn stars controlling them. There are also several scenes in which actors having a conversation were clearly not on set at the same time. Along with the most obvious instance of dubbing I have ever seen in a movie made in America, “The Contractor” is a national treasure. The only thing that could possibly make this movie better would be if the cast was naked. And it is. The delightfully squishy cover girl Austyn Moore pairs up twice, once with the machine-crafted Luvana. Taryn Thomas enjoys a backhoe scene with the dubbed male talent, and Charmane Star services the nervous client, Randy Spears, who alternates with Evan Stone (also in the movie) as The Porn Actor Who Most Blatantly Loves His Job. It is the studied opinion of this reviewer that what would in other films be blatant errors in lighting, sound, script, direction, and logistics only add to The Contractor‘s value. Upon completing their job after a well-deserved sandpit hose fight (!), the girls settle their differences and are approached by a mysterious stranger to do a job for $10 million. Is this a setup for The Contractor 2? That is where your narrow sensibilities would lead you, maybe, but repeated viewings really opened my eyes. Dakota is a trickster, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he upends our unenlightened sensibilities and this cast never works together again. One thing is certain: Masons are hottt.
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No Morals
 Studio: Sex Z Pictures
Director: Roy Karch
Cast: Vicky Vette, Keiko, Hillary Scott, Deja Daire
I was interested in seeing this movie because the personal lives of two of the cast members, Vicky Vette and Keiko, had been the object of discussion in adult industry circles recently. In a job as intimate as this one, was it possible to see more onscreen than just some sex?
Director Karch put together five vignettes in a loft/warehouse space filled with artificial smoke. Each couple got together atop a light fog. Why? No Morals.
First, covergirl Vette is interrupted in her self-pleasuring by Randy Spears, who arrives in a tracksuit on a freight elevator. He picks up where she leaves off, and then departs, naked, in the same elevator. Why does he leave without his clothes? No Morals.
Next is Deja Daire, whose voice is unnaturally high for the filthy things she says with it. Karch's nod to the alt kids is this pairing between Daire and a Robert Smith-looking guy. This scene is followed by James Deen meeting cute with Hillary Scott. Why do none of these hot couples care the building is on fire? No Morals.
Finally, Nicki Hunter is afforded a larger room. I think it's the garage, because her date gets out of a truck. A lack of morals provides excellent cover for the threat of carbon monoxide poisoning. When all is finished, Hunter's paramour returns to the passenger side of the truck, which doesn't move. The scene goes dark and the credits roll. No Morals.
Each of these scenes is exactly as long as it needs to be and shows off a diverse cast (Vette is going the high-gloss MILF route, Keiko and Daire are Eon McKai staples, Nicki Hunter has Vivid Girl looks without the Vivid contract, and Hillary Scott is of the new breed of very pretty, very dirty female talent) in its best light.
So why can't I stop thinking about the stars' personal lives? No Morals, but Who Cares? This atmospheric little movie's ends justify its moral-free means.
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Studio: Digital Playground
