Latex (Michael Ninn, 1995)

After scanning my retina for, oh, I'd say, a minute or two, Michael Ninn's Latex finally granted me access to its shiny, dystopic, dysphoria-causing universe. (Hold up. The first two I understand. But dysphoria-causing?) There are a shit-ton/fuck-ton of close-up shots of crinkly ball-sacks in this movie. Need I say more? I didn't think so. Anyway, the reason I said the film "finally granted me access" was because I think this was my third attempt to watch and review this mid-1990s masterpiece. Yeah, that's right. My third! And you'll notice I didn't call it a mid-1990s "porn" masterpiece. Yeah, the film is that good. Of course, I wouldn't have called it a masterpiece, porn or otherwise, during those initial viewings. I don't know why it took me so many tries. But either way, here we are. I think one of the main reasons I didn't care for the film the first few times was because I was watching it as a porn flick. In other words, I was judging it based on its ability to arouse/titillate. Quirky fun-fact: This was the first film I watched after starting hormone replacement therapy (a.k.a. HRT). I know, pretty awesome, eh? Well, I think so (I've never felt better in my life... it's like I've been reborn or some gay ass shit like that). Now, I'm not saying my estradiol-soaked noodle factory reacted any differently to the slick images Michael Ninn threw my way over the course of the film's two hour running time than my testosterone-soaked one. But it was quite telling that I finally "got" what Ninn was getting at after starting to medically transition. It should be noted that both pre-HRT, pre-everything Yum-Yum and HRT Yum-Yum found some of the sex scenes to be dull/uninteresting. That being said, HRT Yum-Yum practically ate up the style clinic that director Michael Ninn and screenwriter Antonio Passolini pull off with this movie.

As with most movies of this type (porn movies that try to be different), I got a perverse thrill out of knowing that Latex probably frustrated the living fuck out of those who like to masturbate to stuff like this. I don't know, just the mere thought of someone desperately trying to jerk off to this, and failing in spectacular fashion, brings me so much joy.

Now, is it as subversive as the films of Rinse Dream or even Gregory Dark? No. But I found it quite telling that the film's goatee-sporting, quasi-mulleted hero's first line is: "I know you're watching me." A repeated phrase uttered in Rinse Dream's Nightdreams and Dr. Caligari.

Arrested for vagrancy, Malcolm Stevens (Jon Dough) finds himself in locked up in an asylum... Oh, did I mention that the world is a totalitarian, fascist nightmare-scape? Well, it totally is. Under the observation of a bunch of doctors in lab coats (again, very Nightdreams), they're interested in Malcolm because he seems to have a special gift. And while no-one, not even Malcolm, can explain what his special gift is exactly, it's agreed upon that it involves sex in some shape or form.

Spotting a billboard through his cell window, Malcolm fantasizes about the woman on said billboard. A vivacious blonde named Kato (Sunset Thomas), Malcolm imagines the billboard woman masturbating with yellow latex gloves in a retro-style kitchen.

After she's finished pleasuring herself, Kato has sex on a vintage kitchen table with her husband.

The great thing about this scene was... (Sunset Thomas' tits!) I was going to say the attention to detail that went into creating that retro-style kitchen... but I guess her tits were nice. Personally, I dug her black headband. But what can I say? I'm a sucker for hair accessories, especially those that serve a purpose.

Did anyone else wonder what Kato had stocked in those vintage kitchen cabinets of hers? I was kinda hoping she had 'em stocked with pickles, corn chips (with flax-seeds baked right into the chips), salted chickpeas and gummy bears. Damn it, why did I mention pickles? I want to consume an entire jar right this minute. But don't worry, I'll finish this first.

I'm not entirely sure what was going on in the next scene. But I do know that it features Malcolm having sexual intercourse with a "Latex Pony Girl." (A latex what?) It's a fetish thing.

Anyway, while I loved Emerald Estrada's pony look. The spotty, haphazard manner in which Malcolm's taint was shaven was tremendously disappointing. Is there anything more disheartening than a taint that's been improperly shaved? Probably not.

On that yucky note, I think now is as good a time as any to mention the soundtrack. While some people seem to enjoy watching people fuck on film/video, I now find the act itself to be extremely revolting and, not to mention, tedious as all get out. Thankfully, all that gross/yawn-worthy fornicating is set to a non-cacophony of warm synthy goodness cascading over the top of a surplus of choice funky beats. Composed by Dino Ninn, the music heard throughout this movie was a virtual lifesaver. Seriously, their music is a motherfucking godsend. I doubt that could have made it through the whole thing without it.

It turns out that Malcolm, simply by touching you, can "see inside of people." And what he sees is usually sexual in nature.

When he touches Tiffany Million, the doctor currently interviewing him, on the arm, we're treated to a scene where she gets poked and prodded by Sam Cooper, her male assistant.

If you have a thing for rough lesbian sex, colourful latex and bob wigs (blonde and brunette), you'll love the next sequence. Played by Debi Diamond, Lacy Rose, Barbara Doll and Tasha Blades, the wonderfully uncouth antics of these swaying "latex vixens" eat up a huge chunk of time.

Since Malcolm can't visualize himself in his fantasies, he uses an avatar. And at the tail end of the day-glo lez-fest, Malcolm takes the form of a man named Brick Majors. As the synths wind down and the beats begin to fade, Brick spews a modest dollop of creamy, non-watery tartar sauce-esque jizz from the smallish opening located at the tip of his clearly worn out penis.

(Smallish opening?!? Don't you mean his urethra?) Ure kidding, right? That word makes my skin crawl. No, smallish opening is way less upsetting.

I didn't think I would say this, but the acting of Jeanna Fine (Party Doll A Go-Go!) and Jon Dough in that black and white flashback scene during the Julie Show segment (Malcolm eventually becomes a minor celebrity and the toast of the "psychic underground") is pretty fantastic. It was, like, all dramatic 'n' junk. Bravo.

Of course, the top-notch pathos of that scene quickly falls by the wayside when the vapid TV hostess (Juli Ashton) is double-teamed by two of her long-haired crew members. Wait, I think one of the crew guys was played by Tom Byron. Man, does this guy get around or what? In the year 1985, Tom starred in White Bunbusters. In the year 1995, Tom appears in Latex. That's a ten year gap! I wonder how many people Tom penetrated during that period. Hmm, I wonder.

Oh, would you look at that, we're back where it all started: Watching Sunset Thomas getting fondled and fucked on a vintage kitchen table. Great.

Culminating with something called the "mega-splash" (don't ask), Latex, despite the repulsive/repetitive nature of the sex, is always interesting to look at.

On the cusp of being a cyberpunk classic and sort of smart in places, Michael Ninn has made a film that is glossy, smooth and super... cool, I guess. And I'm not just saying that because everyone from start to finish is encased in latex. Or maybe I am. At any rate, if only they could have trimmed some of sex scenes. I know, what's the point of porn without porn? But still, do we really need to see that much fucking? I'm being told that we do. Whatever. Now, where are those pickles at? Yum. No foolin'. I need salt, goddammit!

White Bunbusters (Gregory Dark, 1985)

Don't worry, I'm going to talk about Shanna McCullough's killer thighs and what is easily the best porn movie theme song of all-time, I just want to discuss the A-Busters' business model before I go any further. Oh, and, just in case you're wondering, Shanna McCullough's killer thighs and the best movie theme song of all-time both appear in Gregory Dark's White Bunbusters, the zany poop-chute compromising fuck-flick that bills itself as: "The World's First All Double-Penetration Shocker!" Okay, from where I was sitting, it would seem that the A-Busters provide a service. As to what exactly this service actually entails is still a bit of a mystery to me. Sure, they have an office. They have tools. They even advertise (their radio spot is heard during the film at one point). But what do they do? They will tell you that they help women overcome their reluctance to allow grown ass men to insert their erect penises into their brownish assholes. But all I saw was a couple of rapists who force their mostly female victims to endure a steady barrage of condom-free cock in every orifice imaginable. Granted, there is an instance where a porn star named Cha-Cha (Rachel Ryan) enlists the help of the A-Busters (she says something about wanting them to loosen her rectum before a big shoot), but more often than not, The A-Busters basically show up at your door (wielding an inordinate amount of crap pipe-related gear and equipment) and sexually assault you... in the ass.

Of course, the reason I think the A-Busters are glorified serial rapists, and not entrepreneurs, is because I'm not currently existing in 1985. You see, back in 1985, door-to-door anal rape startups were seen as no big deal. But in today's outrage obsessed nothing-verse, companies like, The A-Busters; Rectally Yours; Sphinctersoft (softening your sphincter since the mid-1970s); and All Up In Your Bum, Inc., fail within the first two months. And not because of poor business acumen on the part of the owners. But because door-to-door anal rape is frowned upon. And I, for one, I'm glad it's frowned upon, as there's nothing funny about door-to-door anal rape. On the other hand, that doesn't mean I can't enjoy a thoroughly repugnant, occasionally hilarious hour long ode to the door-to-door anal rapists of yore. And that's exactly what this is.

Besides, even the most humour-challenged, politically correct nincompoop will love the film's catchy theme song. Written by Johnny Jump-Up (a.k.a. Antonio Passolini) and Wavy Dave, the song, which is playful, funny, clever and frightfully stupid all at once, will bore its way into your brain, and remain there for the rest of your life. Seriously, it's the kind of song that can and will pop into your head at any given moment.

"I'm going to call the White Bunbusters. And no matter where you are, they're going to bust your fucking buns. White Bunbusters, they're really going to bust some buns. White Bunbusters, they will fuck anything but nuns. "They're the WHITE!!!! Bunbusters! WHITE!!!! Bunbusters! Call White Bunbusters!

The almost five minute long song plays over the opening credits, which boasts a montage of all the wacky degradation we'll be "enjoying" over the next hour or so. If you don't like what you see during the opening credits, you might as well tap out now, as the montage is a pretty accurate sampling of what's to come. However, you would be a fool to "tap out." Unless, of course, you have an aversion to killer thighs. You don't, right? Have an aversion to killer thighs? That would be sad if you did. Anyway, the prospect of being rewarded with the sight of Shanna McCullough's shapely thighs encased in red fishnet stockings is worth any mental anguish you might suffer at the hands of this double-penetration opus.

An opus that opens with John Doe (Tom Byron) plowing into his wife's vagina with his cock. Utilizing the missionary position, John's bunny slipper-wearing wife, Jane (Shanna McCullough), doesn't seem all that responsive to the humping her hubby is putting forth for their mutual benefit. Checking her nails in-between his lackluster thrusts, Jane looks like she would rather be somewhere else.

Noticing this, John decides to mix things up, and sheepishly tries to insert his cock into Jane's anus. This hangdog attempt to penetrate her chocolate starfish does not go over well, as Jane protests by telling John, flat out, that she doesn't want his dick in her ass. Realizing he's in a no win situation, John backs down, and says to Jane: "Will you at least suck my penis." After thinking it over for two, maybe three seconds, Jane agrees and takes John's dingle-doodle  tonsil deep until it spews tiny droplets of cum all over her face and hair.

At work the next day, John and Bob (Greg Rome), his friend/co-worker, are sitting around the offices (their desks, by the way, are made out cardboard boxes) of ACME Proctological listening to Dark Brothers radio (the official radio station of the Dark Brothers). When the topic of anal sex comes up, Bob tells John all about the A-Busters. Actually, the ad for the A-Busters that airs on Dark Brothers radio does most of the legwork when it came to explaining the A-Buster's modus operandi. Either way, it's obvious that John is intrigued.

We get more information about their unique methods in the next scene, when we're whisked into the offices of the A-Busters. From what I could gather, the A-Busters seem to be two guys, Tex (Marc Wallice) and Doc (Steve Powers), who share an office (like ACME Proctological, their desks are made out of cardboard boxes). And every once and awhile, their phone would ring. This usually prompts them to yell "Ayyyyyyy-Busters!" When they do this, you can almost guarantee that some poor woman is about to get her buns busted.

Since it wouldn't be a Gregory Dark movie without Jack Baker, the animated actor appears briefly as a man whose wife (Erica Boyer) won't let him fuck her in the ass. When the A-Busters show up, wearing their trademark orange-tinted goggles, work boots, yellow suspenders and orange baseball hats, they grab Erica Boyer and begin to violate her. Eventually, the A-Buster's cocks wind up in Erica Boyer's vagina and butthole simultaneously. I thought it was odd that the A-Busters felt the need to penetrate Erica Boyer vaginally as well. I mean, they're the "A"-Busters," not the "V"-Busters." Whatever, they ejaculate seminal fluid all over Erica Boyer and Jack Baker pays them. Wait, did Jack Baker just pay two guys dressed like gay disco plumbers to rape his wife? Again, I'm not quite sure what kind service the A-Busters actually provide.

After the A-Busters are finished busting Erica Boyer's buns, you'll notice that Tex and Doc spray their flaccid bun busters with some kind of liquid. I'm guessing it's disinfectant. Sort of like, Lysol Antibacterial Kitchen Cleaner. Except instead of spraying it on counter tops, they spray it on their cocks.

Since Jane still isn't providing John with the anal delights he desires, John decides to stick his cock in the ass that belongs to Bobette (Keli Richards), Bob's wife. However, as Bob clearly states, this is a one time deal. The look on John's face when Bob says, "I can't let you come over every night and fuck my wife in the ass," spoke volumes, as I bet he genuinely thought that this could be a regular thing.

When a budding secretary (Jennifer Noxt) shows up at ACME Proctological for a job interview, John and Bob pepper her with questions: "How's your typing? Do you take shorthand? Dictation? Do you take it up the ass?" Anyone care to guess what happens next? That's right, they fuck her in the ass. Well, one of them fucks her in the ass, the other one makes his home in her vagina.

The great thing about this scene, beside the fact that both cocks move during the double-penetration phase (in scenes like these, one cock typically does the bulk of the thrusting, while the other one just sort of sits there languishing in a vaginal/colon stew), is that Jennifer Noxt's Velveeta is the only woman who is seen standing in this film. Come to think of it, they actually showing her walking at one point. This blew my mind. Seriously. Standing and walking? Madness.
  

After the A-Busters are done busting the buns of a new wave punk porn star named Cha-Cha (Rachel Ryan), she has sex with some guy (Dick Rambone) she had hidden under her bed (talk about filler).

Will John call the A-Busters, and get his rectal reward... Hold on. Let's say he does call them, and they come over and penetrate Jane's a-hole with their cocks. What happens next? Call me crazy, but what I think the film is trying to say is this: After the A-Busters have "serviced" your wife, she will allow you to penetrate her anus with your penis. Personally, if my husband did this to me, I would call the police. That being said, this is the type of film that shows a woman standing and walking for a split-second, while the rest of the time they're usually lying spread eagle or on all fours with their asses in the air. In other words, good luck getting the cops to be on your side.
   

  
On the bright side, all the women, except for Erica Boyer, wear lace fingerless gloves, stockings, high heel shoes during their sex scenes. And I did laugh when Shanna McCullough says to John: "My Mama told me, Jane, don't stick things in your ass."  [If you want to be cool like me and watch White Bunbusters, head on down to Eyesore Cinema and they will hook you up. Tell 'em Yum-Yum sent ya.]