The Wonderful World Of Sex - Part 2 Review
All I can say by way of introduction to the second half of The Wonderful World Of Sex is that it fully lives down to the standards set by the first. If you were aroused by my descriptions of the first 11 items then you may well need psychiatric assistance but if you were merely intrigued or amsued then you’ll be delighted to learn that the worst is, in every sense of the word, yet to come.
Hefner and Playmates
Hugh Hefner, “creator” of Playboy, may well be the most notorious millionaire still in the land of the living. Well, semi-living, judging by the non-sentient object which has been transplanted onto his head, but this doesn’t affect Hugh’s time honoured ability to spout bullshit while making it sound like profound wisdom. “I have intended the magazine to be a kind of guide book… or wish book… celebrating the joy of being alive,” Hugh informs us while celebrating his own individuality by sporting a red velvet smoking jacket. “My feet are on the grounds but my head is in the clouds,” he burbles before disappearing into his mansion and leaving us merely with close-ups of his pet parrots.
Hotel Rushing Alps
This isn’t the name of a hotel, sadly, but is the title of a Euro-porn movie set in a hotel located in “the beautiful Alps”. Not much footage of the beautiful Alps I’m afraid since the budget of this segment only extends to shots of three cows and a donkey. In fact, it could have been filmed in Wales for all the geographical colour we’re offered. We meet Harry Hirsch, casting director for VPC productions and a man with a very unnerving leer which extends from the bottom of his chin to the back of his head. Apparently, the hotel insisted on a dress code – evidently, a bright green shirt and braces in Harry’s case – which insists that “no boobs are on display”. This rule would immediately bar half the production crew from staying there since a bigger load of tits would be hard to find. The actresses, on the other hand, are delightful despite having to negotiate a plot which one could describe as clichéd if it had even that much originality. Dru Barrymore – porn starlet from Berlin, not irritating ET moppet turned rather gorgeous film star – plays a student (mature presumably) from Berlin who has arrived in the Black Forest to do a summer waitressing job. We’re told that this part is tailor made for her but her waitress skills seem to be limited because in every clip shown here, the tables are an absolute disgrace. Instead of waitressing, Dru spends her time being shagged senseless by a succession of increasingly lugubrious actors and displaying absolute contempt for any potential restaurant customers. “Stamina and commitment are the most important abilities for the male performers,” the narrator informs us. Clearly, looking like a normal member of the human race is fairly low on the priorities list. We even get to see some auditions in which Harry “auditions the actors in a particularly Bavarian way”. Priceless moments abound. Franz, the director and photographer, can’t follow the script. “Who has to sit on whose face?” he worries, revealing that “I film what the script says but I don’t know what the scenes look like.” The dress code isn’t being followed here, since Franz’s impressive bust is on display throughout. Clearly a believer in the ‘point camera and film’ school of filmmaking, Franz is fulsomely praised by his performers although his only skills seem to be sitting there pointing the camera at the genitals of his actors and wiping off semen from the lens. Some of this is really “artificial sperm” which you can make at home with 3 eggs and some condensed milk. Combine this with your automated masturbation pump and you’ve got a weekend of fun guaranteed.
The Top Guns
The Top Guns are a male stripping troupe imaginatively named after a popular film of the eighties – you remember Tom Cruise, Kelly McGillis, men getting all sweaty in the showers after their rippling muscles are stretched and … sorry. We see this talented group of chaps on tour in Germany offering “a display of pure sex… which knows what makes women tick.” You may remember that Michelle made a similar claim for the Strip Club For Girls In LA, which suggests that someone’s alarm clock has stopped. The leader of the troupe is a burly chap called Dylan Ray who excites women by taking his kit off and displaying a red lurex jockstrap. “They don’t have marriage potential” opines a passing porn star, herself not what you’d call a perfect match. The peculiar absence of body hair amongst the lads suggests that waxing has become a familiar process. Scott Oaks is allegedly “a master of seduction” and his technique seems to consist of wiggling his body in front of a seated female and pouting in a manner which suggests he’s just eaten some bad scampi.
How do you liven up Karting, that activity so popular amongst men trying to recapture their youth without having to interact with women? Easy! Add some girls along the track who can be slowly undressed by the winner of each lap. The end result is as predictable as it is bizarre. “Eroticism and motor sports are things that both arouse emotion,” enthuses the organiser, “and they go really well together and get you pumped up!” Judging by the competitors, both involve a lot of pricks too. “If you like your racing racy then hurry down to Kartland,” dribbles the narrator who is obviously pissed off that he’s in a sound booth while everyone else is at the track.
Sex Doll Production
“A glimpse of knee… dainty feet… everything that attracts a man to a woman!” Now, I can only speak for myself but neither of these is high on my personal list of turn-ons. However, it gets better. “Luscious lips, slender hands, pert bosoms” – now that’s a bit more like it. I began to mentally continue the list in ways which aren’t suitable for an innocent audience but was brought up short by the discovery that this is all about sex dolls. I know the title should have clued me in but I was still thinking about whether the Top Guns wax themselves or get a group discount. Sex dolls are big business judging by this item although I personally don’t know anyone who owns one. I do know some women with male partners who could well be characterless sex dolls programmed to witter on endlessly about football, but very few men seem keen to advertise the fact that they go to bed with 120lbs of latex. “It’s about anonymity,” says the designer who claims he gives the dolls “One girls mouth, another girl’s eyes… different parts of different people that I try to add together into one creation.” Ah what times, what customs. One of these sex dolls will set you back over five thousand dollars, which is probably cheaper than the divorce which is bound to result if your wife catches you cosying up to Silicon Sally while she’s on a girls’ night out. No part of the dolls is overlooked and the ‘between legs area’ – as my biology teacher once put it – is carefully buffed up with a cloth to ensure that realistic sheen. The dolls come with instructions to inform you what they can and cannot do so it’s entirely possible that you’ll get one which is strictly front entry only. They also come with wigs since, we’re told, “No man has yet requested a bald doll”, as if, otherwise, buying one is completely normal. I wouldn’t have the space for one, to tell you the truth, and, given how absent minded I am, it’s probable that I’d leave her lying against the radiator one afternoon and come home to a large pile of melted plastic.
Private Cruise In Cannes
The more worldly readers will no doubt be aware of the “Private” video company which produces ‘high class’ porn for the discerning self-abuser. My own experience of their productions suggests that high class is no compensation for the fact that the same actors appear with tedious inevitability and that the sex scenes consist of the same limited number of variations conducted in a slightly different order. Having said this, the girls are generally a treat for the eye, which is more than can be said of the founder of Private whose irretrievable descent into a soulless middle age can be identified by the encroaching wrinkles and the single earring. If this seems needlessly cruel, I can only say in my defence that (a) I’m jealous and (b) he has more money than I do. During this cruise, six films were made which suggests that careful scripting wasn’t an issue. We get lots of soft-porn scenes from said productions but no close-ups and an inordinate number of flaccid dicks. The founder of Private enthuses about his love of the sea as if this was a vital qualification for paying peanuts to any women willing to do a blowjob while looking reasonably keen on the idea.
Erotica is a funny word. It covers anything from the masterpieces of Henry Miller and Anais Nin to the contents of the Daily Sport. In other words, it’s basically meaningless. “Erotica TV” is Russia’s first porn channel and I was delighted to learn that it looks just as bad as the ones we’ve been offered since the advent of non-terrestrial broadcasting. The girls are supposedly exclusively Russian but they don’t do much talking so I’m not sure that it really matters. “Our girls are very normal girls”, the presenter tells us, stressing that there’s nothing strange about rubbing your tits and looking coyly at the camera while the lighting guys go mad with the blue gels. Indeed, if it were strange it might be more interesting. This is all so normal it’s numbingly boring. One girl, with a Bet Lynch hairdo and pristine white stockings, has a promisingly naughty gleam in her eye but the revelation that “she lives for sexy dancing” indicates that all she’s going to do is gyrate slowly to some sub-Jean Michel Jarre muzak. The impression this leaves you with is that “erotica” means anything that includes breasts and bad music, which could easily mean that all that Saturday afternoon wrestling on ITV in the 1970s was some kind of soft-core pornography.
Zane Entertainment was founded by Chuck Zane and currently offloads untold numbers of naughty videos every year. It’s based on the premise that far from wanting classy production values and proper stories, consumers are quite happy to get sex filmed by handheld cameras in the dingiest locations possible. Indeed, I fully expect my understairs cupboard to be used as the location for one of their future shoots. Matt and Mark Zane are ‘rock stars’ who film porn at their real ‘gigs’. Matt tells us “I’m a musician as we all know… I can pick proper sounds for what I’m trying to relay,” which is as useful a definition of musician as you could possibly want. Chuck doesn’t get involved with the youngsters and all their loud music, instead co-ordinating the business from his underground lair in Gotham City. No, that’s not entirely true. We see him handling the business in depth as the film lingers on how professionally he can pick up his phone and he offers us the benefit of his accumulated wisdom. “The boys have this Generation X thing,” he reveals, “and they bring the rock and roll thing into it.” Not to mention the money thing which is at the root of this artistic endeavour. But mentioning cash would probably be considered vulgar by Chuck who is proud of his sons’ artistry. “It was very difficult to get something new in porn,” says Chuck. In fact, so difficult that he hasn’t bothered and makes do with some ropey shagging videos instead. Showing utterly inappropriate good taste, no actual sex is shown.
Playgirls Photo Shoot
Yes, more well developed men in this one. This presumably helps expand the potential audience for The Wonderful World Of Sex but if any women are really excited by the braindead morons appearing here then it would be a bit depressing for those of us who always thought women were more into the mind than the body. This items shows us a ‘photo love story’ in which a real life husband and wife are told to perform for the camera without actually having sex. “Erotica should be in the imagination, it shouldn’t be graphically displayed in a picture,” lectures the photographer while using a light meter to get the right shot of the hubby’s arse.
Club El Divino
“These women will drive you wild!” promises the narrator as we’re shown a stripping contest at the Ibizan club El Divino. It’s aimed at men and women with a penchant for Harley Davidson’s or what is vaguely referred to as “the Harley Davidson lifestyle”. As someone more familiar with the “E-Reg Vauxhall Cavalier lifestyle” I was eager to pick up some tips but was disappointed to learn that it mainly involves leering at topless women, something at which I’m already very accomplished. One girl worries that “my tits are too big or my mouth is uneven” but she really doesn’t need to worry since the blokes in the audience would be happy if she was one-legged and bearded so long as she took her top off.
Ahhh, I thought, something educational at last. Perhaps about the renowned World War One spy so memorably incarnated by Sylvia Krystel in one of the worst films ever made. However, the attention is instead focused on a hardcore porn film about this lady which will star Anita Rinaldi – “most famous Porn star in Hungary”. Apparently, Hungarian girls are always willing but the offer of hard cash and a potential film career may well have something to do with this. The director complains that German audiences “just want the sex , they don’t care about story,” echoing the age-old cry of all artists frustrated by the unreasonable demands of the people. This item seems to have been severely edited, ending as it does on an ambiguous note. “It seems that nothing is impossible in Hungary,” says the narrator as the camera zooms in on a close up of some very dirty water. Curiouser and curiouser, although not quite curious enough to make me ever want to see this film.
La Dolce Vita – Italian Erotica
Yes, more erotica, although nicking the title of Fellini’s famous movie is just lazy. “Welcome to Rome; the antique city has many faces,” begins the narrator, sounding a bit like Michael Aspel on “Antiques Roadshow”. “On the one hand, it’s place of pilgrimage for many Catholics who pay homage from all over the world. On the other…” well, you get the general drift I’m sure. Reference is made to Anita Ekberg but since the fifty quid budget of this video didn’t allow for any copyrighted clips, we have to be content with a model who doesn’t even slightly resemble Ms.Ekberg lolling about by the famous Trevi fountain and raising about as much erotic heat as an average episode of “Animal Hospital”. Needless to say, a porn director has come to Rome to film an ‘erotic Western’ with ‘an international cast.” The director claims, “We’re not interested only in the performer’s genitals but in their whole personality,” which is oddly unsurprising even though the clips we see tend more towards the former than the latter. A feminist touch is struck when a female porn director explains how difficult it is for a woman to make it in the production area of the industry. More realistic honesty like this would have made this a considerably more interesting item but we return to the usual soft focus nudity and soft-core writhings that we’ve come to expect.
There’s no way to really come to a reasoned critical opinion about this kind of DVD. It’s just what you would expect, with the caveat that actual sex is generally absent and when it does appear is filmed with a coyness that is all too familiar to those of us who grew up on the odd double standards of the BBFC. On its level, this DVD is quite well filmed and the items are brief enough to be intriguing without becoming too boring. Let’s be honest, it’s also pretty good for a laugh and the seriousness with which it takes itself is somehow weirdly endearing. At the very least, it demonstrates that no matter how strange and exotic you might think your sex life is, it’s positively banal compared to what other people are getting up to. Thus, it seems to me to perform a valuable public service. Even better, lovers of good old fashioned smut will have a field day.
There isn’t much to say about the DVD. It’s presented in a fullscreen ratio which reflects its video origins. The picture is generally very good although the limitations of the original material do tell. Colours tend to look either a little washed-out or too garish, depending on the lighting conditions. Some grain appears throughout, again characteristic of the material, and on average it looks like a cheap TV show – which is basically what it is. The soundtrack is English stereo and perfectly acceptable. The only extra is a photo gallery which contains stills from the feature. One of these is interesting, a deeply surreal and disturbing shot of some headless sex dolls which will haunt my nightmares for some time to come.
The Wonderful World of Sex isn’t a disgraceful piece of exploitation and it’s so soft as to be rather touching. Anyone seeking filthy sex will want to look elsewhere but those who want a bit of very mild titillation and a good laugh will probably enjoy it.