Samoan Bob

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Naples Never Dies... It Shoots!

See Naples...
NAPLES NEVER DIES follows the intersecting stories of a Chet Baker-like Jazz musician named B. Buster Pie (who, despite his all-American moniker, is a self-hating pharmaceutical addict), a half-black, half-gay drug lord named Cornell Parker (whose love of mindless violence is only matched by his love of abnormal, globular-bottomed sex), and an avenging angel named Gus Benedict (returning from the original Naples film, but with his face covered by a ski mask after the original film's star died and Stielstra opted to play the role himself).

Along the way, we meet a discount buffet-table's worth of unique characters, locations, events, cinematic styles and film quality, oftentimes within one scene. I'm not sure if the use of divergent film stocks was an homage to Oliver Stone or the result of the general incompetence of Stielstra's film crew, but it contributes to the film's dangerous, uneasy world where one minute you might be sitting down peacefully at a self-help meeting, and the next minute you might be in a one-chip video, getting a clip's worth of bullets shot into your lungs and pelvis.

Unfortunately, many of the characters don't get a chance to fully resonate. This is not to say that B. Buster Pie and Cornell Parker are lesser creations. Far from it. But it's somewhat difficult to follow Pie's arc of addiction and misogyny, or to fully understand Parker's conflicted identity issues demonstrated in his bisexual predilection--or his decision to undergo race re-assignment surgery. Compounding the issue are some questionable uses of screen-time, in Pie's case, an initially powerful but eventually overlong, unbroken master shot of him begging for a hit of paint, and in Parker's case, a couple of lengthy scenes involving his almost incapacitated mother stumbling around while the phone rings. The film overcomes this handicap with two powerfully shot and acted demises for each character. I won't spoil them here, but Stielstra has the ability to draw blood from a stone and tears from an audience for two despicable louts whose deaths they would cheer in any other film. Gus Benedict, as the film's surrogate protagonist, is reduced to a grim specter of death, not unlike The Shape in the original "Halloween".

Of course, the film has plenty of other fascinating characters, including the leader of a white supremacist group known as Anal Pride, a corrupt FBI agent, a doomed library worker dressed as a clown, a corrupt lawyer brilliantly played by deviant filmmaker and registered sex offender Michael Fredianelli, and Peanut, a Chicano, bicycle shorts-wearing cowboy whose very presence causes the film's editing to loop itself into a miasma of smash-zooms. This, just so the movie can make sure it's actually seeing what it thinks it's seeing.

Stielstra's film also boasts a good chunk of archival footage of public domain commercials, newscasts, children's cartoons, and scatological nature footage that seems to appear at random intervals throughout. Whether these were spliced into this negative on accident is still undetermined, but they contribute to the film's howling disenfranchisement with modern American culture.

As a whole, NAPLES NEVER DIES seems less an homage to European crime films (as the title would suggest), and more a madman's fever dream about the illicit underbelly of Arizona. Even in this patchwork quilt of a cut, NAPLES NEVER DIES is a film drunk on the possibilities of cinema. Literally. It wakes up and and messes itself on the couch of standard narrative storytelling.

In other words, it's a wake-up call from the drunk tank of motion pictures. Will you accept the charges? A million stars.


I don't like doing summaries
Despite the lukewarm response from people adverse to vampire films, I found this glass cleaner filtered flick one of Fredianelli's more solid efforts, with a few big problems that probably could have been fixed with another pass at the script. An editor for the San Francisco Chronicle suddenly finds himself getting a boner over the idea of sucking blood (a hemosexual, if you will) and we follow his descent into savagery as he fights against giving into his most base desires. Meanwhile, a gal with amnesia wakes up in a park somewhere with the same thirst. For some strange reason, a guy lets her live with him, supports her and even registers her for classes, and yet he never tries to get himself a piece of that amnesiac ass. Was he a gay? And if so, don't you think including two mythological beasts in one film is a little cluttered? Eventually the two hemogoblins meet up and all is revealed with some clunky expository flashbacks, along with a sudden, last minute explanation on how to stop the vampire curse. Along with the roommate's murky motivations and the tacked-on resolution, the film's biggest head scratcher is the editor's sudden turn from a conflicted man trying to suppress an insatiable thirst for blood to an amoral killer and devourer of chubby girls. A more nuanced slide into evil would've been more interesting, and some guilt on his part would've gone a long way too. Overall, the film has a good, professional look and some suspenseful kills, but more gore, nudity and character motivation were needed to truly overcome the convenient plot contrivances.

The Minstrel Killer

Visceral execution overpowers big narrative kinks.
The Minstrel Killer: Overall, this might be Fredianelli's best film. Technically, it definitely is. The pacing is much more brisk than the usual Wild Dogs offering, the cinematography successfully captures the feeling of the period, and the high concept premise is great, a complete distillation of the themes and obsessions of the entire Wild Dogs catalog. The setting also took a lot of balls, and while overall it gives the film a coherent feeling that the narrative lacks (more on that later) the execution ranges from brilliant (the cannibal sequence, the main character's home interior) to shoddy (I'm not going to pick out things like modern cars and microwaves *okay, I just did* but something about a 1970s hillbilly with a Celtic cross tattoo just don't seem right). The film really is a visual treat, the image of the Minstrel Killer is an iconic one, the deaths are *ahem* well executed (the hangings were particularly impressive, although the movie could have used more gore), the hillbilly cannibal sculptures gorgeous. It's also an aural treat. The sound mix is one of Wild Dog's best, with its overall lack of stock effects (like the infamous potato sack sounds of yesteryear) and the score by Aaron Stielstra which elevates the material so much it would be unthinkable as a film without it (it's like John Carpenter with some banjos).

However, I have two big problems with the film, and if it hadn't been so much fun overall they would likely sink the whole ship. Number 1: Tex, our main character. He's boring. A typically over-the-top Fredianelli beacon of hate, he's so much of a racist from the beginning that the revelations that come about at the end aren't shocking or interesting. When he bellows "I am not a racist!" in his final scene with his wife the audience I saw the film with couldn't help but laugh in a way I don't think was intended (especially the black people in the theater). A better bet, in my mind, would have been to start the character as someone who actually is repressing his racism so that when it blows up at the end it retains some shock and social relevance. Why watch a racist continue to be racist? There's no arc. This could have been the Straw Dogs for racists - a man convinces everyone he's not bigoted, including himself, but in the end his repression of it blows up in everyone's faces. I think that might have been the intention, but the character had too much of the Fredianelli anti-socialism to make it work. Number 2: The narrative. It needed a lot of ironing. The cannibal subplot is somewhat unnecessary but easily the highlight of the film (especially that bald fellow with the gout ridden leg) but other digressions don't add anything at all. The pig farm questioning was pointless (although I understand the temptation to keep the pig f-cking in the film), the redneck characters at the beginning were nigh unwatchable (I'm going to have to echo Stielstra's John Ford comparison. Dude, you have no place to talk about that one-eyed curmudgeon. I'm surprised the rednecks didn't break out in a round of Shall We Gather at the River before having a hilariously bloodless punch-up), and some of the exposition is repeated at greatly inappropriate times (I couldn't help but chuckle when our hero finds himself trapped in a house with the Minstrel Killer's next intended victim and he asks her if anyone would want to hurt her family and after a few seconds she goes into a long speech about how her family used to torture slaves…all while the killer is stalking them! Not only did it grind the film to a halt, all of the information was given in the previous scene!). I've also got to call out the dialogue. Sometimes it's great, other times repetitious and grating (almost everyone talks the same, I can't count how many different characters were calling each other goat cocks, hog cocks, dog cocks, cock cocks etc.) The film redeems itself nicely with the its whip-cracking climax and freeze frame ending, a great improvement on the original ending I read in an early draft of the script (which was shocking but unearned) and like I said, I can't fault the film on pure entertainment value, it just needed its kinks worked out to get its themes across, without any expense to the storyline. But as exploitation it works in spades and that's what I'm rating it on. 8.5 out of 10

Ying xiong wu lei

A Rhyming Review
There was a film that I saw

Just the other day

And I sat there in awe

As it blew me away.

It was made by John Woo

Who is now a sell out

His fans he does screw

As the cash they shell out.

So get a six-pack

Full of cold, frosty beers

And then sit back

For Heroes Shed No Tears

Watch with devotion

This huge action feast

With enough blood to fill an ocean

To say the frickin' least

Our heroes in this tale

Are a group of Mercs

Who blast folks all to hell

'Specially drug lord jerks

There's fighting, there's stabbing

There's nuking, there's looting

There's biting, there's grabbing

There's puking, there's shooting

Punches are thrown

Black soldiers are eaten

Eyeballs are sewn

Children are beaten

A fight goes on

With nails and a tire

Our hero loses his son

Almost in a fire

There's tons of dying

But where the film falters

Is all the damn crying

Like it was Barbara Walters

When our hero does cry

It gets really lame

For the movie does lie

With its very own name

But please do not fret

It does little harm

And I'll make you a bet

About the scene with the arm

If you do not jump

When the dude gets the spears

Shoved straight up his rump

You've drunk too much beers

And if you don't find it nice

When the hut does explode

After the role of a dice

Then you're a humorless toad

So get off your fat ass

And get the hell out of here

Cuz you'll have a damn blast

With Heroes Shed No Tears

The Scavengers

Not enough nudity or violence.
The video box called this crapsterpiece "a stark naked picture that leaves its guts hanging out!" and went on to say "The Scavengers were rotten to the core - thoroughly disgusting and had a serious sexual'll probably love them." Well, the nudity is so incompetently filmed that most of the time it's nigh impossible to fully gather what's going on. Unfortunate, since most of the women are absolutely gorgeous with heaving (natural) breasts worthy of Russ Meyer (well one of them is the incomparable Uschi Digard). The action scenes are OK, but there's not enough of them. The editor on the film was Paul Hunt which makes the shootouts that much more of a disappointment. And no, the slow motion in this film isn't fit to lick the cow plop off of Sam Peckinpah's boots. The plot is somewhat involving, with some interesting touches and character motivations, but the film doesn't have enough talent behind it to be good art, and doesn't have enough sleaze to be good exploitation.

Luca il contrabbandiere

Intestines and Testi
Lucio Fulci's ultraviolent crime film is an enjoyable and unintentionally hilarious action flick with the requisite amount of gore one expects from a Fulci film. Fabio Testi (tee-hee!) plays a cigarette smuggler who gets entangled in a bunch of gang-land shootings. Melting corpses, burning skin, shot-open necks, repeatedly shot paper mache heads, shotgun blasted intestines (that seem to be made out of foam) ensue. In addition to that, there's a decent shootout or punch-up here and there. The highlight is some nerdy guy getting massive breasts shoved in his face. Well, at least for me.

Boss Nigger

He was the boss.
Fred Williamson and D'urville Martin are two black bounty hunters that stumble into a town that is sorely in need of a sheriff. So what do they do? Why make themselves the sheriff and deputy of course. Now we know the white folk won't take a liking to that, especially the local bandit (played by William Smith) and his gang a' crackers. Not particularly distinguished from the blaxploitation Western sub-sub genre and not nearly as wild as the name suggests, 'Boss N!gger' is still good fun with a lot of humor (supplied mostly by Martin) and well-directed action scenes.

No profanar el sueño de los muertos

At the start of this flick some English dude on a moped is riding down the street when a woman inexplicably takes off her clothes and runs in front of traffic. Unfortunately, this film never lives up to that absolutely brilliant opening scene as it devolves into a badly paced piece of zombie schlock that is only notable for being one of the first ultra-gory zombie flicks ever made. A full hour goes by where nothing of interest happens, and when the gory climax does's ruined by poor direction. A scene where a woman has her breasts torn off is generally acknowledged as a highlight, but poor effects kill it. Avoid.

Il mio nome è Shangai Joe

'That Chinaman ain't human!'
Shanghai Joe is a Chinese martial arts master who somehow finds himself in the racist Old West. Of course, Joe is pushed to his breaking point by them racist white folk, so he starts kicking honky ass left and right. Fast-paced and incredibly violent, 'The Fighting Fists of Shanghai Joe' is the kind of mindless entertainment that Spaghetti Western fans love. Klaus Kinski shows up to get his ass handed to him and add some star power to the proceedings...well, star power in our minds. Bruno Nicolai rips off his score to 'Have a Good Funeral, My Friend' but it's so good you won't care.

Valdez Is Coming

Mediocre Lancaster Western...
...Burt Lancaster is a half-Mexican lawman who is given incorrect information and kills an innocent black man. After he finds out, he tries to get the men who hired him to pay $100 each to the widow of said dead man. Of course, these mean ol' white folk won't listen to a half-Mexican so Valdez is forced to do something drastic...he kidnaps the fiance of one of the mean old white folk. From there on, the white man and a gang of Mexicans hunt for Valdez...or is it the other way around? The storyline to this flick is pretty decent (it's from a story by Elmore Leonard) but the direction of the action scenes is lacking and the end doesn't ring true. To make matters worse, a lot of the Mexicans are played by gringos and there's an obvious allusion to the crucifix in a scene where Valdez is tied to two pieces of wood in the shape of a cross. I thought only Spaghettis had such overt and unsubtle religious imagery. I don't mind religious iconography in non-religious films when it's subtle (like in 'The Wild Bunch') but when it's this obvious it not only seems unlikely, but also that the director is reaching for some vague profundity by showing religious iconography when clearly it isn't there.


Ferdinando Baldi's Spaghetti take on the 'Zatoichi' films is one of the most stylish and enjoyable Spaghetti Westerns I've seen. Tony Anthony stars as the titular hero who is after a group of seedy Mexican bandits (one of which is played by...Ringo Starr!) who have kidnapped 50 women that he was supposed to take to some miners in Texas. Loaded with well-directed scenes of violence and gratuitous nudity, 'Blindman' is a must-see. Ha-ha what a knee-slapper!

Buon funerale amigos!... paga Sartana

Get some flowers, a minister and some weeping family members.
This entertaining installment in the 'Sartana' series suffers from some bad pacing and not nearly enough action to sustain my ADD-addled brain. However, the action it does have is wonderfully realized...including an expertly handled horse chase where the bad guys all find their way to their graves (you'll see what I mean). The plot has to do with a land dispute between Sartana, some lady and a Chinese saloon owner...but who gives a sh!t? Unfortunately, the director thinks we do because he spends an unholy amount of time on plot when we just want to see Sartana shoot people. The Chinese dude's constant quoting of Confucius gets old fast (and is it me or do most Chinese people in Spaghettis quote Confucius?). Slightly recommended.

Un minuto per pregare, un istante per morire

Alex Cord stars in this beautifully-photographed Spaghetti Western about a gunfighter with an arm that goes into epileptic fits under pressure. After a local town decides to give amnesty and $50 to gunfighters that give themselves up, Cord strongly considers giving up his run-n-gun lifestyle. But of course there's bounty hunters, bandits and lawmen who don't exactly take a liking to that so Cord is gonna' need a lot of bullets. The action sequences are average for a Spaghetti (good guy shoots a bunch of times, bad guys throw their arms straight into the air and spin around) but the direction is quite good and the storyline is intriguing. Robert Ryan shows up to kick some ass and add some class to the proceedings. 7.5 out of 10

I crudeli

Corbucci shoots...and misses.
Pre-'Django' Spaghetti Western from Sergio Corbucci has some good action scenes but the dull characters and bad pacing sink it. A group of Confederates massacre some Northern soldiers and steal some moola in order to restart the Confederacy or some such nonsense. Of course, one of the guys doesn't feel right about it and creates conflict within the group. Not completely devoid of interest, but there's a black hole at the center.

Flaming Star

Elvis's best film.
Elvis stars as a half-Indian in this exciting Don Siegel-helmed Western with a ton of action and a meanstreak. Elvis's character is surprisingly tough and hard-assed, plus the songs are kept to a minimum (he sings the title song and does a little hoe-down at the beginning...that's it). Anyway, Indians are massacring farmers in an attempt to take back their land, and Elvis is torn between the Indians and the racist white folk. Elvis gives a great, understated performance...he seems aware that this is a Siegel film, not an Elvis film. All in all it's the King's best foray into filmland.

The Toll Gate

Silent bad-assery.
Anyone that thinks that Westerns didn't get tough and gritty until the 50s needs to see this excellent silent film starring William S. Hart (who also wrote the screenplay I believe). Hart plays an outlaw that goes gunning for revenge against the man who betrayed him, all the while trying to dodge local authorities. He comes across a single mother and her young son and wrestles with his conscience...something he thought he suppressed a long time ago. The plot is a direct precursor to the similarly-themed 'Shane' and 'Will Penny' and Hart is the forefather of the silent hard-ass (Clint Eastwood owes a lot to him). Beyond its historical value, this film is recommended just for being so damn good.


An excellent knock-off of "Keoma"
In the early 70s, Spaghetti Westerns were going through a dry spell. Countless crappy parody films had flooded the market and strangled the life out of the genre. Then Italian crime maestro and occasional Spaghetti director Enzo G. Castellari came along and directed the psychedelic, action-packed masterpiece "Keoma". Gone was the cynicism and nihilism that seperated early Spaghettis from American Westerns. Instead there was an injection of emotion. The silent hero of the past was now a heartfelt warrior who wasn't above crying in between bouts of ass-kicking. Needless to say, it revived the genre briefly and led to a few knock-offs. "Mannaja" is probably the most obvious with it's similar visual style and music score, but Sergio Martino's keen visual sense (though not as good as Castellari's) and Maurizio Merli's excellent performance allow the film to stand on it's own two legs. There's a lot of well-staged slow motion shootouts and a fistfight in the mud here and there, along with an interesting if not compelling plotline. All in all, this is a great knock-off that has just enough originality to be a good stand-alone piece. Recommended.

The Losers

OK biker/war flick.
In order to rescue a Presidential Advisor (in a Francis Ford Coppola costume) from a group of Chinese Communists in Cambodia, the government enlists a subdivision of Hell's Angels led by William Smith to break in there and get him out. The back of the box said this film has more action than 'The Dirty Dozen' and 'The Wild Bunch' combined. To call that a vast overstatement would be a vast understatement. In reality, the film is a bunch of bikers having sex, getting drunk, getting wasted, getting into lame fistfights, falling in love, waxing poetic and building stupid-looking motorcycles sandwiched between two decent action scenes with 2nd rate Enzo G. Castellari slow-motion (which would make it 4th rate Peckinpah). All in all, it's actually not bad, but the climax should have been better considering the time we have to wait in order to get to it. Have ear plugs ready when the title song comes up. It's a soft medley probably sung and written by some drugged out hippie chick that doesn't fit with the movie at all.

The Hunting Party

A mean little S.O.B. of a Western.
Gene Hackman and Oliver Reed face off in this hard-hitting Western from Don Medford (!). Unfortunately, the film seems to be trying to out-Peckinpah Peckinpah without fully knowing why he does what he does. What we're left with is a superficial exercise in nihilism but who doesn't love that? Lots of good action scenes, some nice acting and a meanstreak separate this one from the pack. Well worth searching out despite its flaws.

Se sei vivo spara

Tedious exercise in Spaghetti surrealism.
Tomas Milian stars in this dark Spaghetti Western that starts beautifully and then devolves into a meandering mess with the occasional scene of gore thrown in to liven it up. Instead of focusing on the main character (who is never referred to as Django...greedy distributors) the film gets lost in boring sub-plots and in turn he is so short-changed in terms of screen time and character development that he becomes a non-entity (and when Tomas Milian is a non-entity in a Spaghetti you've got a problem). There are occasional flashes of surrealism that have a real artfulness to them, but unfortunately you've got to slog through scene after scene of crap just to get to them. Skip this one and be glad.

Per qualche dollaro in più

The Best of "The Dollars Trilogy" and quite possibly Leone's finest film.
"For a Few Dollars More" has become the template for which most Spaghetti Westerns derive.

As Leone went along, his films got more daring and complex, exploring new ideas and raising not only the bar for Spaghetti Westerns (which, contrary to popular belief, were around before "A Fistful of Dollars") but for Westerns in general. However, this exploration at times affected the quality of his films. Leone was a popcorn director - a visual stylist who always entertained first and maybe provoked a thought or two second. However, his films were never think pieces so when he tried to integrate depth into his films the results became uneven.

"For a Few Dollars More" is his best film because it catches Leone in his most transitional period. At once the film is more complex and stylized than "A Fistful..." and more tight and efficient than "The Good, the Bad and The Ugly" (which is almost on par with "For a Few..."). The revenge sub-plot involving Colonel Mortimer is more compelling than the similar one in Leone's "Once Upon a Time in the West" because Mortimer is more developed as a character than the Harmonica Player (which is not to insult the great Charles Bronson).

And hell, it has Lee Van Cleef as one of the biggest bad-asses of all time. The mere presence of Colonel Douglas Mortimer elevates the film to a new level. He steals the film from "Manco" completely. And Van Cleef's theft of the film is what makes it a cut above "A Fistful...". As a character, "The Man With No Name" (who in actuality has three: Joe, Manco and Blondie) isn't very interesting and there always needs to be a counterpoint to play off of him. That's why "A Fistful..." isn't nearly as good as this film or "The Good..." (which had the great Eli Wallach in one of the best scenery munching performances ever).

So in closing, "For a Few..." is a tight masterpiece of fluff Western entertainment. It's mean, violent and immoral, just the way any good Spaghetti Western should be.

Vamos a matar, compañeros

Comparing "Companeros"...
Get ready for a run-on... A Spaghetti Western set in the Mexican Revolution about a foreign mercenary played by Franco Nero who makes an uneasy alliance with a Mexican bandito who unwittingly becomes a revolutionary while simultaneously falling in love with a freedom-fighter chick who is really hot, all while being tracked by an eccentric villain played by Jack Palance...directed by Sergio Corbucci, with a score by Ennio Morricone and a few machine gun massacres and at least one scene where someone is buried up to his neck while horses are about to trample on his head. Ummm...haven't I seen this before? Oh yeah, it was called "The Mercenary" and stands as one of the best Spaghetti Westerns of all time. "Companeros", on the other hand, is an entertaining piece chock full of humor and action (although, like the two protagonists, the alliance between humor and action is not always a smooth one). The pacing could use some work and there wasn't enough nudity (ok, I'm joking on the last one...could have used more nudity though)

Where was I? Oh yeah, "Companeros" is bad-ass fun with one of the greatest shootouts of all time (Nero + Machine Gun = Bad-assery at its best). Wow, what a terrible review.

Le colt cantarono la morte e fu... tempo di massacro

Rather mediocre Spaghetti Western...
...Lucio Fulci's "Massacre Time" is a typical Spaghetti Western with a few things that seperate it from the pack. First, the presence of schlock horror-maestro Lucio Fulci makes it worth a try for devotees of the king of Italian gore. Second, the shootout at the end (while nothing compared to the action scenes of Sergio Corbucci, the best action director of Spaghetti Westerns) is quite interesting especially considering the many John Woo trademarks throughout (flipping while firing, the emptying of guns into a single person at close range, birds flying through the air, etc.). Whether this is coincidence or outright theft is up in the air. Third, the wonderful score. You'll be humming the theme song for the rest of the day.

To sum it up, this flick is interesting, but more or less typical for the genre.

The Long Riders

Walter Hill's best film...
...a definite classic that should be seen more than once to truly appreciate it. Very similar to Peckinpah's "The Wild Bunch" (the best film of all time...Western or otherwise) in the sense that the characters aren't romanticized outlaws that only steal to support the poor and only kill bad people (if you want crap like that see the piece of excrement known as "American Outlaws"). The way the violence is filmed is also similar to that of "The Wild Bunch" and the film's final shootout is quite similar to the opening of Peckinpah's opus. But who cares? If you're going to steal, steal from the best.

Anyway, if you're a fan of Westerns (or just good movies) see this film. Walter Hill needs to make more Westerns.

L.A.P.D.: To Protect and to Serve

Revenge of the tiny shirts...
Rent this! This is ineptness at its most sublime, a turd of a straight-to-video flick that is so bad you'll swear the filmmakers tried to make it as crappy as possible. The box cover shows Dennis Hopper (who is in the "film" for about 5 minutes...he must have needed some money...bad) and Michael Madsen (who wears a police shirt far too small for him...I guess they couldn't afford a plus-size cop shirt from the local surplus) and completely ignores the two lead actors. There's some plotline about corrupt cops and such but who cares? Just sit back and laugh at: The big old fat dude getting "hit" in the face with the stock of a shotgun (despite the fact that the gun is about ten feet away from the guy), the old homeless dude getting hit by a car while "sad" music plays on the soundtrack (isn't there a better way to kill someone?), Michael Madsen swinging his arms around rapidly whenever he talks (you know when someone tucks their arms behind their back and someone behind them does overdone hand motions trying to simulate the movements of their arms? That's what this looks like to the tenth degree) and finally (and this is the best part!) the police officer having the wildest orgasms ever (I swear this guy overdoes his orgasms more than any porn actress I've ever seen...I mean the way the guy's face contorts and distorts he looks like someone's knifing him in the back...and all this while his lover just sits there...seemingly bored).

Anycrap, if you love bad films see this one. It'll be some of the best fun you've ever had in your short life.

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