As I inch my way brick-by-brick up to the century mark in watching porn videos by Cash Markman, I begin to see how he managed to crank out so many (let's round it off at a thousand) video projects. It's by not honing any towards perfection but rather handing in any old garbage, and producing them for a porn assembly-line, more analogous to a Fred Olen Ray or Jim Wynorski in soft-core land than having to pass muster in a mainstream gig where someone might dare to blue-pencil or (horrors!) actually reject one of his scripts.
So far I've only enjoyed one of Cash's movies - the spoof "Get Lucky", though my enjoyment of that comedy was canceled out by the ineptness of his sequel "Get Luckier". "Stuff Dreams..." is one of his worst I've seen so far, pretentious and stupid, rather than his usual aw shucks silliness.
Using a fantasy mode not unlike the Rod Serling play-book, Cash tackles existential questions and comes up with chaff. Star Steven St. Croix got the memo to be earnest, but it is not one of his good performances, rather resembling a walk- through for the usually reliable XXX actor.
The specific Serling "Twilight Zone" that came to mind, not because of style or content but rather just the subject matter, is one of my all-time favorites, namely Richard Conte in "Perchance to Dream", which affected me greatly when I saw it in first-run way back in 1959. Of course it is mean to compare Cash's work to writer Charles Beaumont and director Robert Florey, but tough luck - I treat porn as part of the continuum of Entertainment, and if Mr. M. doesn't measure up to a film noir genius, or to Bergman and Kieslowski, so be it.
SPOILERS AHEAD (if it's possible to spoil this video):
In both pieces the protagonist is tormented by dreams. Here we have St. Croix telling roommate (lousy script intimates they've been living together so long I was wondering if a homosexual subplot was on the way) Evan Stone about his troubles, while nastily berating Stone for his free-loving devil-may-care lifestyle. This overwritten early segment is an obvious Western Union approach to setting the viewer up for the payoff. St. Croix grilling Stone on his inability to remember who he slept with last is a transparent gimmick for explaining later the paper-thinness of Stone's character, part of the pretentious plot line.
I see the industry body who hands out awards actually nominated Slick Rhodes for an acting award in the non-sex role of St. Croix's paranoid, depressive co-worker Barnes. Just another example of the worthlessness of those awards, as the untalented Markman discovery, who somehow made a career not having sex in sex videos, is overwrought and unconvincing -just mildly creepy.
When it comes time for sex, Rhodes magically morphs into Lee Stone, so that a young, big-dicked performer can do the actual humping, in an ugly freight elevator set, humping star Jezebelle Bond. She is the key protagonist, and afforded two sex scenes in the video, not typical for a Penthouse project.
The girls are quite attractive, notably a requisite lesbian scene for future Wicked Pictures superstar Alektra Blue opposite buxom Alexis Love. Also on hand is another big name, Katie Morgan, who is not well-used here.
Morbid script has Barnes constantly complaining about his pointless job and even more pointless life, an attitude that St. Croix absorbs. Story is told in flashback as Steven complains to Evan. Ending, which clearly lacks the Serling via Beaumont punch of the classic "Twilight Zone" ancestor, predictably resolves as a familiar twist based on Cash's rather superficial treatment of the phenomenon of Lucid Dreaming. As a child I often had lucid dreams, in which half-way through I realized it was my dream and started telling off all the other characters, then pulling the plug and waking myself up. This odd ability disappeared completely when I grew up, and now my dreams and nightmares continue to their conclusion with me oblivious to what's happening.
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