The Amateurs (Usama Alshaibi, 2003)

 
I don't remember François Truffaut or Karen Finley being mentioned in any of Ed Powers' depressing Dirty Debutantes movies. But then again, I haven't seen all that many (THANK GOD!!!!!). I can see a wall of pornographic videotapes at one of the many adult video retailers I accidentally walked into over and over again back in the day. The innocent faces of the women peering back at me from the cover boxes. Sadness mixed with shame. A boatload of regret. If I remember correctly, the guy behind the counter reeked of hot dogs and rape.

I think there was a screening room at the back... there was a curtain... so, I couldn't see what was going on... but I recall hearing a lot of moaning.

People eat Ethiopian food at an Ethiopian restaurant in that location nowadays.

I wonder if they realize the walls are encrusted with at least twenty years worth of failure-tinged jizz as they make their order.

So, yeah, Usama Alshaibi's The Amateurs pays tribute to/mocks/ridicules/celebrates the pathetic hilariousness that is amateur porn.

 
It opens with two would be performers being interviewed by a director.

When Camilla Ha (as Mini Chang) name-drops Karen Finley (the mom from You Killed Me First), I relaxed immediately.

The conversation that follows is funny and stupid simultaneously. 

The guy in the wig won't perform unless a fish is produced... the director doesn't have any fish... he demands that the two potential performers get with "the suck and the fuck."

"We don't do kink."

The next interview is depressing. Uh, yeah. I don't want to talk about it.
 

 
Spoiler alert: "Princess" injured her eye with a pool cue while drinking moonshine. lol

Reluctant to perform with a woman with one eye... the director tries to convince his non-dashing male lead that it's okay by telling him that: "Not everyone has two eyes."

When the non-dashing male lead offers to warm up the speculum he's been instructed to insert into Princess' pussy, I nearly lost it. So romantic!

Next up is Echo and Coco... Um, the wide-eyed Echo needs to take a shit and Coco's filthy white t-shirt gave me a pseudo yeast infection.

Hi, Billy and Kalyx... thanks... bye! Worst annilingus ever!

Yay! Woo-hoo! I'm done with the Solar Anus Cinema collection. 🎉 I managed to type words about every single one of them. Of course, I didn't have to... but, in a way, I did. And I'm beaming with misguided pride. What I think I learned is that, um, porn is gay, and that Ukrainian women and sort of Ukrainian women need our support (now more than ever). Now, who wants to order Ethiopian, er, I mean, Thai food?

Gash (Usama Alshaibi, 2008)

Always writhing, always opening their oral cavities in ways that are clearly unorthodox.

This is Gash... and there is a gash.

It's on Katinka's pelvis.

It's pretty infected...

The gash, that is.

Wait. Is that a dental mouth opener?

"It's all relative to the size of your steeple."

Cool.

You know what else is cool?

(Your legs encased in black stockings?)

Well, yeah. But I was thinking about... "Gashed Senses and Crossfire" by Front Line Assembly.

 

At any rate, I love it when Usama Alshaibi uses props in his movies.

Do you remember that knife from Slaughtered Pigtails? I was comforted by its appearance, as it was something I could relate to.

Well, I felt the same way about the dental mouth opener.

The dental mouth opener caused Katinka to lose control of her saliva.

And since I like saliva... I nodded approvingly.

I think there's only one more of these things left.
  

Organ Molly (Usama Alshaibi, 2008)

I just watched Molly Plunk lounge irregularly on a mattress to organ music.

ORGAN is an HOMONYM

Molly has organs but they're inside her body for the duration of this film.

Just in case her skin fails to prevent her organs from spilling out, she has in·gen·ious·ly chosen to encase her lower half in multiple pairs of pantyhose.

Quirky fun-fact: Whenever I used to type the word "pantyhose," a wave of perversion would wash over my aura like a shame-soaked tsunami. But nowadays I can type "pantyhose" with a buttery ease.

Isn't that interesting?

(It's on the cusp of being interesting. Meaning, it's sort of interesting)

 

Anyway, Molly seems to be having fun... you know, with the semi-naked writhing and all.

It's like a peep show loop from 1969/1970. But with delusions of artfulness.

Word on the street is that Molly was paid in burritos to be in this film.

One burrito at the beginning of filming, another burrito upon completion.   

Truth be told, I spent the bulk of the film trying to imagine how severe Molly's future hysterectomy scar is going to be.

Runaway (Usama Alshaibi, 2008)

A young naked woman dances sheepishly in the dark to dark ambient music (with Del Shannon undertones).

A light shines on her occasionally.

This light seems to make her even more sheepish.

The film is called Runaway... and I guess the sheepish dancer at the center of it is trapped in some kind of shadowy nightmare world. I'm also guessing that the people in charge of this nightmare world are forcing her to perform in order to foster the sexual arousal of total strangers.

Patient (Usama Alshaibi, 2008)

 

Naked woman? ✅

Naked woman wearing a bandage? ✅

Writhing? ✅

Couch? ✅

 

Torn black knee-high stockings? ✅

Bongo music? ✅

A shot of the sky to increase the profundity factor? ✅

Um❓❓❓❓

 

🐌🐌🐌🐌 I think that covers everything 🐌🐌🐌🐌

Spoiled (Usama Alshaibi, 2008)

OMG! Am I completely mental, or did Forever 21 at one time sell cow print makeup bags with the word "spoiled" written on the side?!?

I know I could do some research and probably find this out in a jiffy... but I got less important things to do.

This is Usama Alshaibi's Spoiled, not Stuart Canterbury's Spoiled from 1987.

Part of me wishes I was reviewing the Taija Rae flick... but the Spoiled DVD, which came with my shitty Taija Rae collection box set, wouldn't play properly.

Tragic.

Ooooh, but this movie has gummy worms!

 

I'm not ashamed to tell you this, but I have a soft spot for splosh porn. But that soft spot mostly centers around British splosh porn. You see, British splosh porn has a playful quality about it that I find lacking in, let's say, French splosh porn or Udmurt* splosh porn.

This particular splosh porn isn't really splosh porn, it's more of an eating fetish porn. But since most of the food consumed isn't actually ingested (most of the food languishes outside and/or lingers adjacent to the oral cavity), it slowly morphs into being splosh porn.

Which, in a strange way, I greatly appreciated. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to look for a store in my area that sells gummy worms.

* Oh, yeah... I mention Udmurts...  it's something I like to do from time to time.

Traumata (Usama Alshaibi, 2005)

  

Yeah, I can totally relate to this... I wore a blister bandage on my back for a full year.

(You had a blister on your back?)

No, don't be silly. I used a blister bandage because I had read that this particular type of blister bandage was the best at absorbing evil spirits from the human body.

And since I own a human body, I thought they would be perfect.

I stopped wearing blister bandages on my back about a month ago, and, I have to say, I feel pretty good. I'm definitely less agitated. 

Anyway, Traumata features a young woman, who probably isn't Ukrianian...  Chuvash, perhaps? ...played by Sarah Lynn... standing naked covered in bruises and bandages for two minutes.

It's like a Richard Kern movie, but without Lydia Lunch's meaty thighs to distract you.

 

 

Just repetitive punk music (Custom Car Commandos... Kenneth Anger reference) and a pair of sullen eyes staring back at you.

Injury chic.

Wound porno.

Do you or a recently deceased loved one have a tourniquet fetish and a short attention span? Then do I have the movie for you...

(What movie would that be?)

Um, the one I'm currently writing about, dumbass.

Self-Contained (Usama Alshaibi, 2004)

  

In Self-Contained, Usama Alshaibi films Kristie Alshaibi lying on a hardwood floor covered in plastic wrap.

Who knows what kind of craziness will transpire...

Oh, wait a second. She just got out of the plastic wrap.

Hmm, the film is over.

Funny story. Between the years of, oh, let's say, 1995-2017, I used to carry around a plastic bag in my pocket.

I did this for two reasons:

1) I wanted to prevent imaginary coconut-loving parasites from devouring the imaginary coconut-flavoured microbes that used to cover the entirety of my corporeal essence. 

2) The crinkling sound the bag made whenever I would claw at it soothed the ringing in my left ear.

The reason I stopped carrying around a plastic bag in my pocket is shrouded in mystery. Part of me thinks it has something to do with ingesting an oral tablet that helps reduce the swelling caused by fluid buildup in my tissue. Another of part of me thinks I might have something to do with my sudden lack of interest when it came to worshiping Satan on a semi-regular basis.

 

Either way, the sound of the plastic wrap as it clung to Kristie Alshaibi's struggling body reminded me of my plastic bag years.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, I used several plastic bags over the course of that lengthy period of time. I didn't use just one. I mean, that would be mashugana.

Completely mashugana.

Slaughtered Pigtails (Usama Alshaibi, 2001)

 

If only every slasher movie was this short and to the point.

Thank you, Slaughtered Pigtails. Thank you for not wasting my time.
 

💓💓💓

 

A sort of Ukrainian woman (Echo Transgression) is chased across a field by an unseen assailant.

Shot from the point-of-view of said assailant, the pursuit is brief but intense.

I don't want to spoil the ending, but she's caught eventually.
     

  

 A knife appears, and a plastic bag is employed in a manner the inventor of the plastic bag probably didn't intend... or maybe they did intend plastic bags to be used in this manner? If so, you're one sick motherfucker.

The film's succinctness comes at price, however. I mean, I'm currently lacking an excuse not to go outside and cause as much havoc and mayhem as humanly possible.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to head over to the nearest learning annex and sign up for a macrame class.

Convulsion Expulsion (Usama Alshaibi, 2004)

 

I want to bleed like Echoplasm does in Usama Alshaibi's Convulsion Expulsion. 

Goddammit! 

Whose dick do I need to suck in order to make this happen?

Arrrgh!

Don't mind me, I'm crestfallen. 

After not giving it as much thought as I probably should, I think I'm crestfallen because I cannot expel crimson-coloured plasma from my currently cancer-free crevices in a manner that isn't even close to being frightfully churlish.

I long to helplessly watch as my blood coagulates on the floor around my bare feet.

 

 
Strawberry shake enemas notwithstanding, not being able to produce a single drop of menstrual blood is taking up a shitload of space in my mind.

I think the main cause of this has something to do with the fact that I just watched Convulsion Expulsion.  

So, if you don't want to envy people who bleed regularly from certain orifices, I would recommend that you don't watch Convulsion Expulsion.

However, if you get off on being envious of people who can bleed better than you, then by all means... watch it.

 

Besides, it's only six minutes. And it features spastic twitching. YES! Ecoplasm's body movements are alien-esque.White slips! Cool makeup... um, industrial music. And... vaginal bleeding, red rectal nectar spraying wantonly (a convulsing anus is a happy anus) and syrupy mouth blood. 

These things are all very good, by the way.

Wide-eyed yet again. This no longer feckless, no longer festering Yum-Yum-like creature is looking at stuff, and her brain is responding to said stuff in a way that pleases her greatly.

Oh, and I have no evidence to back this up, but I'm pretty sure Echoplasm stole my eyes.