Hustler has of late sent out screeners of its movies with a pink sticker attached. The sticker lets potential fences know that enclosed is a movie for review purposes only; you can't jerk off to it or sell it.
Because I consider my job as an occasional reviewer to be a Sacred Trust between Mr. Larry Flynt and myself (even if I'm reviewing a Vivid movie), I would never dream of selling these films.
Instead, I launch them into space after I'm done, to make the ionosphere more sex-positive.
But what governs where these stickers go, and is it art?
A guy named Dan Silver is the director and, I assume, your stand-in for the first edition of Barely Legal P.O.V.
Point of View movies make me feel a little uncomfortable. Something about the performers looking directly at the camera's red light, which isn't necessarily at a level with my eyes, and the hushed tone required for the camera to stay steady always make me feel creepy watching them.
Add to that the fact that the performers don't have the opportunity to not look at the camera makes the atmosphere a little claustrophobic.
Maybe it's the lack of air between cameraman and star that makes everyone sound a little breathless?
I wish Errol Morris would do a porn POV movie with his Interrotron. Perhaps that way actresses would not bite their fingers or speak in that affected, vocally-fried way that doesn't exist outside of porn or post-production of Britney Spears records. Listening to Veronique Vega and Renae Cruz talk that way, knowing they don't actually talk that way, made me wonder who first gave that advice.
But Silver has the knack for casting women whose breasts, when their owners lie flat on their backs, look enormous and mesmerizing. This is definitely a raincoater film for the weird, uncomfortable level of late-teen unreality it contains. Everyone should own a copy.
(But I'm not going to sell it to you.)
Previously: Penthouse gets Bree sic; Saruman meets Spock in a thoughtful ocean of flesh; Barely Legal 75: Stacks of nudes spotted in Sunland
See also: Hustler
