Studio: Adam & Eve
Director: Roy Karch
Cast: Lexington Steele, Vanessa Blue, Angel Eyes, Sydney Capri, Alexis Silver, Kapri Styles, Tee Reel, Nat Turner, Max Black

Portions of this review originally appeared on Fleshbot

One of the unexpected pleasures of watching more pornography than I ever thought possible is every now and then getting turned on by a scene. The adult market has expanded exponentially based only on myriad variations of people fucking each other, and so I usually stay interested by talking about lighting or how the movie might remind me of Jaws.

But from the first scene of Indigo Noir, with its short, simple (and sometimes silly) setups, the movie is all about delivering the same vital message as when the first porn movie was shot on video: Why don't I go out and get laid right now?

Roy Karch has been directing porn for about 10,000 years, and his sensibility varies between Timeless and Out of Date. The latter is not his fault; the only choking you'll see on one of his sets is when one of the crew members mistakes a craft services chicken finger for a mozzarella stick. And perhaps he might not know how best to exploit multiple tattoos and piercings but I think that is because he realizes, like we all do deep down, that they just get in the way.

But fucking has been fucking forever, and people still pretty much do it the same way. It's getting in there that's the problem, and this is where Karch's casual, to-the-point setups come in.

"People don't just walk in a room and fuck," Karch said. "Even in the fucking Seventies."

Indigo Noir is an "ethnic" high-end gonzo for Adam & Eve. The movie is introduced with a stylish blue/black credits sequence, then the fun begins.

Kapri Styles is lazily soaping herself up in a tub. Her nipples are perfect. Every now and then she casts a glance over at the shower, where partner Max Black is ignoring her. They don't talk. Have they been fighting? He gets out and spends an overlong time primping at the mirror, which would be funnier if one didn't get the impression that he's not acting. He's still not paying any attention to her, but she finally convinces him.

Getting filthy after bathing? Timeless.

One more note about this scene: either Black's cock is HUGE or Styles is two feet tall. It's a little disconcerting. My jealousy is only mitigated by the sneaking suspicion that it would take him longer to get inside Styles than it would for me...

Mr. Marcus interrupts Sydney Capri while she is masturbating. This is a recurring theme in Roy Karch movies. If you see him, you should ask if this has ever happened to him. Capri has been waiting for Marcus to get home and, when he does, he hardly notices her. Convincing him to put the goddamn phone away takes about 30 seconds.

Capri Got Back. Word. No Lie. For real. And Mr. Marcus is not wearing his trademark Red Sox cap so the air is not tinged with a sense of impending doom. Now and then she looks at him all nasty, which is a plus, because you know from the look that she doesn't mean it.

Lexington Steele and Vanessa Blue show up next. All Lex wants to do is play pool and she won't let him, perched as she is with a dildo on the billiard room couch. They have an excellent chemistry. In real life, they announced their engagement a month after this scene was shot. They broke up six months after that. The moral? Interrupting a man's nine-ball might have delayed consequences.

The charm of this scene is that, no matter the pornish trappings that seem impossible to avoid throughout Adultdom (I will start a No High Heels Club some day and you will join it), we still feel that we are watching a couple with some history, and that's nice.

The final scene is between Tee Real/T. Reel (there is no universal standard on spelling this guy's name) and British spitfire Alexis Silver. Silver is particularly saucy, and T. Real labors to seduce her as a bartender picking up on one of his patrons. It is the only scene in the movie in which a woman isn't busting the moves on an initially indifferent man.

Luckily, Real does not have to work that hard because Silver is, er, easy.

This is a solid piece of work that straddles porn's current Low Overhead trend and the "classic" era's penchant for giving a damn about the audience. The scenes that worked best had less dialogue, because either the performers should have been miked or the boom guy should have gotten in closer. In general, though, the little bit extra for lighting and comfortable locations paid off in a movie that did exactly what porn flicks should, with no distractions but a little thoughtfulness.

Buy it.

Studio: Hustler/X Play
Director: Will Rider
Cast: Hillary Scott, Alana Evans, Jasmine Byrne, Naomi, Jenna Presley, Victoria Sweet, Kat, Tommy Gunn, Melissa Martinez, J. Depth, Kurt Lockwood, James Deen, Johnny Castle, Marco Banderas

Portions of this review originally appeared on Fleshbot

This is the most important Britney Rears film ever. When popshot princess Britney Rears (Hillary Scott) uses an eBay-acquired time machine to travel to 1974, nothing is sacred - not even the Prime Directive.

Your historical notions of Britney Rears from the first two installments will be turned on their heads, set on fire, and then the fire will get its face comed on (I consulted my Strunk & White to make sure that usage was correct).

Britney winds up in the Hustler Studios, circa 32 years ago, and is mistaken for 70's star Bridget, co-host, with a man named Shafted, of a TV music program.

"Where am I?" she keeps saying, but she is caught up in the smoke and fat beats of "Shafted '74". I, too, was swept away; in that there wasn't a sex scene for about seven minutes, I'd forgotten this was a porn movie.

That is soon rectified when, backstage, "Shafted" director Tommy Gunn takes care of two below-the-line assistants in his dressing room. Hollywood never changes! The production staff did its work, too; when Gunn comes in the eye of Kat, she wipes it away before putting her fingers in her mouth. That would never happen today.

Many of the stars of this movie are of color. J. Depth as Shafted has some good lines, such as "'74 could be a good year for the bofe of us. I am the President of the United States of Love." Shafted, you see, likes to sample the talent. And I don't mean 'sample' like a hip hop song, because the Sugar Hill Gang wouldn't be around for a few more years, I mean 'sample' as in do sex with.

The voiceover narrator, who explains things after they have happened, makes love to his microphone.

"Man this is some serious SHIT," he says. "Britney and Jenny have no idea where the FUCK they are."

Britney and Jenny struggle their way through the show, trying their best to come to terms with the perils of Time. Only the release of sweet lovemaking will ease the tension, but director Will Rider and writer Jeff Mullen do not grant this to Britney. Yet.

Instead, a 3-on-1 scene featuringh a trio led by dancer Alana Evans descends on teen heartthrob Johnny Castle. The same thing used to happen to David Cassidy.

Finally, in order to get her time machine back, Britney submits to Shafted. She disappears in a puff of smoke and returns to Our Time, where her roommate has been lamenting to James Deen. "Do you need a towel?" he asks, for she still has 1974's soil playing about her face.

She realizes she has forgotten Jenny, and zooms back. Somehow, she winds up in her own house, but in 1974. Jenny is fucking "a Disco Inferno dude" (Marco Banderas), and Britney leaves her to fend for herself. Fend she does. She fends the living shit out of him. Yet her afro remains untainted.

Roommate Presley then consoles James Deen, who is still worried about the towel. Back in 2006, Britney services Kurt Lockwood. As the movie wraps up, we might catch a glimpse of the narrator getting on Britney's (actually Larry Flynt's) private jet.

It has all worked out fine for Brtitney in the end, but at what cost to the Space/Time Continuum? Fuck the Continuum, I always say.

Buy it.

Studio: Digital Playground
Director: Joone
Cast: Jesse Jane, Teagan Presley, Jana Cova, Sophia Santi, Kinzie Kenner, Marie Luv, Evan Stone, Tommy Gunn, Scott Nails, Jean Valjean, Marco Banderas

Portions of this review originally appeared on Fleshbot

There is so much sex going on in "Island Fever 4" that the viewer will be surprised that he/she didn't show up in the movie by mistake.

Shot on Bora Bora and the Bahamas, this wall-to-wall beaver picture leaves one wondering why the cast bothered to come back to Van Nuys at all, unless getting the sand removed required being airlifted from the island.

Island Fever 4 washes ashore in a 3-disc package loaded with extras. The first two discs contain the movie, which is comprised of (I think I have this right) 28 individual sex scenes. There are masturbation scenes, two-girl romps, boy/girl interludes and, every now and then, a four-contract girl extravaganza.

Directed by Digital Playground co-owner Joone with camera work by himself and "Jack's Playground" (et al) director Robby D., the movie actually seems like a merging of the styles of Robby D., with his arresting tableaux, and Digital Playground director Celeste, whose movies have little to no dialogue and are essentially moving postcards with music.

Joone blends these styles for a beautifully shot couples' fantasy.

Digital Playground's contract stars Jssse Jane, Teagan Presley, Jana Cova, and Sophia Santi are the stars of the show, but Kinzie Kenner and Marie Luv are brought in for a little extra zing. The scene structure is simple: shots of white sand, turquoise sea, sunsets, wind through the palm trees, mountains, and lots of sex on, in, or near same.

The viewer will never see a boom shadow, never hear awkward interview questions from behind the camera, never see choking, spitting, or roughness, and will wonder about how all that sand and salt water felt after eight days of shooting.

In its contract stars, Digital Playground has four distinct personalities. Jesse Jane is the leader of the pack. All sinew and girlie parts, Jane grabs the camera and doesn't let go. Teagan Presley seems like the wayward little sister and is a little devilish. This movie is an excellent vehicle for her. She said at the release party that she stutters; with no lines to memorize, Presley is free to express herself otherwise. Jana Cova is a softer, more wholesome blonde than Jane or Presley, and is strictly Girls Only.

Sophia Santi is the odd one out, and for me she steals the movie. Taller and darker than the three tiny blondes, Santi, a former Penthouse model, might have been chosen to round out DP's stable because her look is a little more exotic like, say, original Island Fever star Tera Patrick. Santi, towering over her labelmates, represents real women in the land of the spinners. She's not on the IF4 poster.

Every woman but Cova and Santi have a boy/girl scene, and standout segments include a four-contract girl soiree at the end of disc one, two loads that say "I love you" from Jean Valjean to Teagan and from Scott Nails to Jesse, a fun vignette in which Sophia bodily picks Jesse up out of the water, and a surreal headscratcher in which Jesse learns some form of Sand Bocce from the natives.

Also notable is the condom use limited to partners of Teagan. With all that sand, wasn't it uncomfortable enough?

I asked Jesse Jane what the cure was for "Island Fever".

"Is that a joke?" she asked.

"I guess so," I said.

With every bit of reality sandblasted away to reveal a Harlequin romance bookcover (except with fluid), only Santi appears as if she might exist in real life. This movie is literally fantastic.

Island Fever 4 is every bit as accessible as last year's blockbuster Pirates without the burden of a story; buy it if you like to watch the pros work.

Buy it.

Studio: Vivid-alt
Director: Octavio "Winkytiki" Arizala
Cast: Kimberly Kane, Lexi Bardot, Page Morgan, Mysti May, Angie Savage, Masuimi Max, Nadia Styles, Smokin' Mary Jane, Dragon Lily

Portions of this review originally appeared on Fleshbot

The sly thing about The Rebelle Rousers is that it contains lines like "I'll deal with you later, Thrill Kitten." Like being offered one's dream job (but you'll have to live with your parents) or meeting your soulmate (but he/she requires a bucket of Ativan three times a day), there could be something horribly wrong with this movie but it would be impossible to tell because who wouldn't be charmed by hearing the words "Thrill Kitten"?

But this first movie from Vivid-alt is tasty throughout.

In the high-stakes world of lingerie procurement, the problems of addiction are often overlooked. The Pin-Ups, a group of girls who require frillier and frillier underpants, are beholden to the Rebelle Rousers, the girl-gang who delivers the goods.

The movie is shot 50's exploitation style and you half-expect Jim Backus to show up and provide counsel. Beginning with a trailer park knife fight, the movie then transitions to a girl-girl scene between gang leader Kimberly Kane and lingerie addict Nadia Styles, illustrating a kind of Stockholm Syndrome but with cunnilingus, as Styles falls in love with her oppressor.

Fetishists - and you may become one, too - will enjoy Styles' gratuitous but joyful surf guitar strip tease that precedes her scene with Kane. Kane and Styles have a very long interlude together by porn standards, and the occasional camera shadow does little to diminish the scene's effectiveness. Narrative-wise, it seems the two part as equals, which goes against the standard pusher/buyer relationship.

Disgruntled gang member Lexi Bardot then encounters what in other circumstances might be considered rape, but in this case is simply office protocol, at the hands of "Slim" and "Jimbo". While the high concept with which this movie began might be breaking down, it is informative to see how lingerie gangs live.

In "The Ritual of Tiki Island", Dragon Lily is tied up and slapped around by a master ropesmith. It really has nothing to do wth anything, but it looks pretty.

Real-life couple Angie and Devon Savage star in the next segment, "Hillbilly Swingers". He laments her addiction to "contraband undies" and they work out their issues in their trailer. The heart-melting Mrs. Savage smiles her way through her scene, demonstrating a zest for married love that the Republicans should seriously consider for their '08 platform and that made me think, "Hey, trailers have more space than I thought."

Tyler Knight just edges out Devon Savage as luckiest man in the world when he hooks up with both Mysti May and Page Morgan in the next scene, "The Deliverer" (he delivers the panties for the gang). The Rebelle Rousers becomes lopsided at this point, because both this scene and the one that preceded it capture the fun of, you know, having sex on film in a way the other scenes didn't. In this way the movie ends on an up note.

That Knight whacks himself on May's stiletto heel and Morgan is often observed in a wide-mouth laugh is endearing. There is a lot of shouting and laughing in this scene, and, in their efforts to get at Knight, May and Morgan crawl over each other like a basket of puppies. The Porn Valley Chamber of Commerce should really use this scene as part of its promotional packet for prospective talent.

Smokin' Mary Jane's "The Perfect Pin-Up" is the movie's most Taschenesque segment, and is as art-directed as a Bettie Page photo enthusiast's dream. Mary Jane, like Nadia Styles before her, does a strip tease but unlike Styles is not joined by anyone to finish the job. Instead this segment finishes the movie, along with a dance by fetish superstar Masuimi Max over the credits.

In that Arizala introduced such an interesting plot idea, it was disappointing to see it disappear now and then, but at no point was The Rebelle Rousers not visually interesting or deturgidifying, and at some points, especially toward the end, it was a perfect piece of practical art.

See a gallery here.

Buy it.