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xmag.com : March 2001 : Pornos for Primates

Pornos for Primates - adult movie review by Rex Breathes


RexBelle De Jour; Sin City; Dir., Kris Kramski; Stars: Jessica Drake, Tina Tyler, James Bonn, Angela D'Angelo

This widescreen shot-on-film feature is not a remake of the Luis Buñuel classic starring Catherine Deneuve. Kramski couldn't get the rights to the screenplay so he adapted his film from the novel--a better idea on paper. Jessica Drake is a lonely bird in a gilded cage who sits at home idolizing her doting, but often absent husband. Jessica looks like she belongs to the "Stepford Wives" club, or, she graduated from the school of wooden acting. Down at the tennis court, Angela D'Angelo tells Jessica that a mutual friend works on the side at an exclusive brothel. The Stepford Wife goes blank, then goes on to narrate her repulsion for her handsome, successful doctor husband.
"Give me the penis of a monster; that I could swallow," her inner monologue creaks along as she undresses before the mirror. Jessica gets it on with the curling iron while ruminating on whether she should leave her husband or kill him. My kinda girl. Her stuck-up Beverly Bitch routine contrasts nicely with her sodomizing herself in front of the mirror.
James Bonn fucks Angela D'Angelo and her tattooed tits on the leatherette. Bonn is actually practicing law as he fucks his client, D'Angelo, while charging his usual hourly. Needless to say, he comes all over her glasses like seagull shit on the windshield. No wipers.
Jessica's frigid, except around curling irons, so she drives around in her Volvo trying to get up the nerve to visit the exclusive brothel. (All frigid women drive Volvos; where as men who drive Volvos are closet gay.) The madam, Tina Tyler, takes 60%, just like any greedy, seedy pimp. She could get a better deal at the Bunny Ranch. She leaves, and not because of the uneven split. Kramski's script falters and Drake's acting stumbles more. Hard to fault the director for attempting an original film that includes explicit sex. Obviously, serious thespians aren't lining up to make fuck films. Imagine a Meg Ryan in the role of rich, neurotic housewife-turned-hooker. Whoa.
Back to reality. Belle De Jour tries to run but she can't hide from her inner 'ho. The madam turns into a tough pimp who gets her bitch back in line and into the arms of a greasy pig customer. Inner monologue continues which the violins under cannot save.
"The more I sin, the better I feel," she confesses to the teak tabletop. She wants to degrade herself to be a filthy whore filled with rancid semen. That's preferable to her disgusting life of opulent excess, shopping for the right curtains on Rodeo Drive. Some Eurotrash shows up to collect a debt from the madam. She offers him head instead. He takes both--the cash and the head. Belle De Jour continues to whore in the afternoon. The balls may be smaller but it beats tennis at the club. The lawyer drops by to see the madam and finds his best friend's wife there, Belle De Jour. She spreads her legs for him but he declines because "that would be too easy." Inspected and rejected, she goes to visit the madam's muscle, Marcelle, who makes her suck dick with her eyes open. Apparently the eyes-open-thing is what's been lacking from her sex life because she suddenly becomes a sex machine; or, it could be the wicker furniture making all those seductive squeaking sounds.
Belle De Jour finds out the attorney's set up a meeting with her husband to spill the dirt on her. She hires Marcelle to head off the meeting at the pass. Gunfire ensues. Her husband is shot in the crossfire between Marcelle and the attorney and disabled for life. Sitting in his wheelchair, she feeds her husband's slobbering mouth baby food; then she takes out his cock and gives him a blow job. Fortunately, his infirmity doesn't extend below the waist. This is the best blow job of a cripple in a wheelchair I've ever seen.
 
Private Lessons; Filmco; Dir., Stuart Canterbury; Stars: Chloe, Nicole, Ava Vincent, Frank Gunn...
 
This film has a Contessa and a broken-down jalopy for a stretch limo they picked up at a junk yard. Dogs. An English professor gets picked up in said limo to meet with the Contessa for lessons in lust. Actually, English lessons, but you know the only words grunted will be the language of love. Chloe, who's the Budapest Contessa's errand girl, gets fucked by the chauffeur. He puts a nice choke hold on her while he finger-fucks her, then she chokes down his manmeat. I swear, Chloe barely breathes while she's sucking dick. Either that or she's mastered some cycle breathing technique that famous jazz musicians, like Kenny (barf) G, employ to play on without ever lifting their mouth from the instrument. Budapest boys don't get to fuck big porno stars like Chloe every day and the chauffeur is properly impressed with just whose pussy he's fucking anyway...Chloe can't come with the fat Eurodick in her pussy so she takes him in her ass. Her ensuing multiples, reverse cowgirl, were probably felt in Prague.
Lots of girls masturbating in this feature that degenerates into a plot straight out of the mind of a meth rat. Eventually, the English teacher bags the Contessa but by then you're doing something meaningful like working out with your Ab-Slide (tm). Watch Chloe come and then switch over to cable.
 
 
Black Attack; Sin City; Dir., Julian St. Jox; Stars: Nadia and other Eastern Eurowhores
 
Director Jox grabs some bro's and takes them to the former Soviet bloc to attack the commie whores with their giant incoming missiles. We're talkin' ICBM's--I see black meat. The Russian ho's look the best--better than the Budapest babes. A guy on holiday finds some girls who want to pose for his camera as a prelude to playing "Shaft." This whole expedition is actually a CIA Black Op. We will bury you in black dick up to your eyeballs, baby. This way the CIA gets to infiltrate the Russian Mob (who control the ho's) and set up operations to launder money from their drug ops in the Golden Triangle. Or, it's just another porno movie exploiting the cheap labor behind the old Iron Curtain, willing to do anything, without condoms, for a few good Ben's. In this interracial East-meets-West fuckfest, we can see Karl Marx's theory, "Class is the only distinction" devolve into, "Ass is the only distinction."
So, what I've learned is this: only people with flat, hard stomachs get to be popular and enjoy life--this according to my favorite infomercial. So that's my problem. Either that or the disaffected outsider, brooding artist thing is just too last millennium.

 

 

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from Rex Breathes


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March Online Xtra with clips from Kramski's Models and Chloe.

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