A Trailer Park Taboo

The sexual magnetism and acting chops of starlet Kenzie Reeves and 2018 XBIZ Male Performer of the Year Small Hands are explored in equal measure in this superb vehicle penned and directed by Joanna Angel, who also takes on a meaty role.

“Tell me,” Hands asks, desperately. “Do our actions define us? Do they have to?” He delivers the lines with genuine pathos as a lost, down-on-his-luck guy struggling to liberate himself from a disaffected mindset and a twisted family dynamic. Reeves is a constant temptation, deftly manipulating her stepbrother into one sexual assignation after another, tempting and teasing him, sucking his cock with almost frantic intensity and urging him to fuck her harder, pound her, until he comes inside her. Later, when Reeves realizes she has failed, again, to achieve a particular goal, she shakes with anger and frustration. It’s a disturbing scene, and Reeves delivers.

Hands and Angel meet as classmates and realize they share a pained, existential angst about the plan and purpose of their lives. Both of them struggle against the pull of the circumstances they were born into, and the seemingly dead-end path laid out before them, versus the deeply felt aspiration to somehow better themselves. This lends a tender, melancholic undercurrent to their lovemaking, even as it turns toward aggression. Their characters have managed to connect; however, Reeves has concocted her own plan to hold onto her brother and she will not be deterred.

Tommy Pistol and India Summer are ruthlessly pragmatic parents whose rough, aggressive sexplay and constant jabs of dark humor underline their lack of genuine affection, while Abella Danger anchors a threesome orchestrated by Angel for the benefit of her new lover, in the hopes that he might relax and reveal more of his true self. It’s deliciously kinky sex, powered by Danger’s sly sexual aggression. But Hands’ character is still too self-centered and caught up in his own angst; Angel’s decision sets in motion a destructive chain of events that leads Hands and Angel back to the trailer park, where Reeves awaits them. It wouldn’t be fair to spoil the lengths to which Reeves’ character has gone to manipulate her stepbrother and eliminate his new lover from their lives; he and Reeves share another sex scene near the end of the film that is viciously aggressive and sadistic.

Kudos to the entire production team — hat tip to producer Bree Mills and her golden touch — for their commitment to exploring seriously dark ideas. Fauxcest and trailer trash themes are not uncommon, shall we say, in adult filmmaking; virtually of the time, they’re played for comedy. This film aims to go deeper and tease out the fears and insecurities — as well as a desperate need for connection, particularly to someone, like a sibling, who can never really leave you — that underlies and fuels them. This can easily tip into camp, but Angel, Mills and their team successfully walk that very thin line.

Special plaudits are due to the dark, jittery, eye-level cinematography that conveys an unsettling, you-are-here feeling. Art direction, costuming and other tech credits are top-of-the-line. Danger, Summer and Pistol are terrific, but Angel, Hands and the mesmerizing Reeves earn MVP honors.