Tabitha Stevens plays things very cool throughout, reminding us why she is one of our leading porn actresses, as opposed to simple stars; whether gripped by passion, perversion or power-play, she never forgets that this is a dark drama, and not a simple stroke movie, that there is a meaning deeper than denial behind the political games. Something we should all remember. “The ones who condemn us,” Stevens reminds her Senator, “are often the ones with the darkest secrets” – and we cut to the criminally cute Sarah Sloane being laid bare by the Federal Prosecutor who’s about to jail her ass. But only after he’s fucked it.
A fiery blowjob, all giggles and gagging, is one of several scenes that leaves you wishing it was longer (full marks to a movie that doesn’t leave you fast-forwarding through the umpteenth fuck in search of the next hint of plot!). But that’s only to contrast with a desert gonzo sequence that is shot like a wired Depeche Mode video, all cutaway quickly and scorpion menace, as Tabitha reveals her own wild ambitions, how she will do absolutely anything to remain on top of her game. Just like the Senator, in fact.
By now, you’ve probably gathered this is not your standard feelgood porno, and we’ve not even got to the really twisted bits yet – Tabitha’s meeting with movie mogul Marcellus in a wonderfully warped approximation of church, her role as a spectacularly animalistic supermodel (and a photographer’s cock that just won’t quit!), the horrifying fate of her friend and former costar Kelly, and the even more horrific ends Tabitha must go to, to put an end to her suffering.
It’s around about now, as we head back into the desert and some stunningly lovely location shots take on all the dislocation of a brainful of peyote, that if you are watching with a partner, he’ll be watching you with a distinctly uneasy look on his face. I know, because I did it.
An amazing movie, then; a feast for more senses than your average XXX dreams of, because so much of it is dreamlike, whether you want to go there or not. And you emerge from a genuinely surprising final few scenes (my lips are sealed) wondering who got it right in the end?
The Senator? Who continues to insist that everything is evil?
Tabitha? Who believes that art and beauty still have a role to play?
Or Marcellus, who seemingly dismisses the last two hours of film with a dismissive shrug? “Nobody cares what you do. They just want young girls fucking.”
And bleating “fuck-me-fuck-me-fuck-me” while they do it…
Constantly Chrissie 