It's an Interracial Gang Bang Thang!

A free copy of the Voice goes to whoever can tell me what this line from The New Yorker's June 10 review of The Sexual Life of Catherine M. means: "Pornography is a form of pidgin—a trading tongue without the deep wellspring of nuance that produces clarity." (Does anybody like pigeons? That is, besides the people who toss them bread?) Porno is about trading tongues and bodily fluids, sure, but portrayals of sex don't necessarily lack complexity. Shiz, fuck flicks leap into thorny spots your average romantic comedy won't go near. Like race-themed gang bangs. The videos in the "Gangland" series—the inspiration for this week's column—all have covers showing thugged-out black dudes feeling on a naked white woman in the street. Potentially controversial!

Other 'bang flicks, like Gangbang Girl #33 (Anabolic), get by without playing on minstrel- or crack-epidemic-era stereotypes about African American men. They just rely on homoerotic, quasi-rape domination fantasies. "Anal artisan" Aurora Snow stars in Gangbang Girl's first half, set in the auto-parts salvage yard where her meathead boyfriend dumps her. About a dozen or so blue-uniformed workers, apparently on their coffee break, save the day by lending her some spare rods. It all starts—uneasily, as gang bangs must—when the doofy leader proffers a comforting hug, waving in his swarm during the embrace. Aurora, thin and wholesomely pretty, practically fragile in her pink, flowered dress, smiles wanly as she notices the men closing in, then bends at the waist to slob cock so that others can waddle over, pants partly dropped, and amuse themselves with her ass. Did I make that "rod" joke yet?

Soon enough, the men find some salvaged auto parts suspiciously resembling sleeping bags and lay them down on their truck's flatbed. Every guy—even the one with the extreme thong tan-line, ugh—gets sucked and/or fucked in the course of a tremendous variety of acts and positions: Aurora getting pumped on her back, three floppy penises at her spit-smeared cheeks and forehead; rimming hairy butts while getting fucked; and hoisted reverse-cowgirl onto a succession of men, with others moving in for ass-and-pussy penetration, double vag, and shockingly, disturbingly—barely—double anal. After all this, seemingly unfatigued, possibly even enjoying herself, our heroine lies back and proceeds to take 14 cumshots in her mouth, moaning mutedly, gargling occasionally, and stopping only three times to swallow all of it. The camera perfectly captures the bubbling white mess at the back of her throat, including the crowning moment when she spits five or so loads into a presumably salvaged funnel and drains it into her mouth. And then: genuine, spontaneous—well-deserved—applause. (Applause is one thing. Let's just hope none of those guys has the clap.) All I know is, I'm never eating raw pancake batter while watching porn again.

Details

Gangbang Girl #33
Anabolic
Buy VHS

Gangland 33
Devil's Film

Gangland: White Boy Stomp #11
Dreamland

Gangbang Girl's second half, concerning British swimsuit models forced into you-know-what, gets ugly. Gangland 33 (Devil's Films), on the other hand, portrays consensual sex and largely avoids the prejudices suggested by its cover and slogan ("One wrong turn and you'll get gang banged"). In fact, it's very nearly an accidental work of genius. Four genial, talkative, long-dicked black buddies—hardly the "gang" members one might expect—wander into scenes with only the most threadbare plot excuses. "You called us up here—what do you want?" they repeatedly ask Kacey, who, confused, doesn't bother responding. In the next segment, the apparently tense period of dialogue with Lena Ramon is drowned out by echoes (it's shot from her mansion's mezzanine). Gabriella Banks is simply told that one of the men's names is "Friend Number Two." The ringleader looks straight into the camera and carefully deadpans, Tracy Morgan-style, "He ain't got no name. We just call him Friend Number Two," before turning away in melodramatic slo-mo. This is hilarious. And that's no joke.

Another thing that isn't a joke is how fetching Kacey is: trunk well-stocked with junk ("When did white girls start gettin' asses like this?"), rack decently stacked, skin clear and pale, hair thick and dark. The crew finds her in a huge, unfurnished loft, peering out a window, wearing—I mean, really wearing—lil' jean shorts and a low-cut top. Before they're even done with the requisite booty inspection ("Lemme see your booty, white girl"), she starts deep-throating them, producing gooey saliva by the gallon, and rubbing their massive, dripping wands all over her face. Needless to say, she soon gets fucked in every possible uncomfortable position on a couch, and the guy with the largest wand slowly pushes it into her forbidden dimple. Boo-ya!

The wands aren't as large in Gangland: White Boy Stomp #11 (Devil's Film)—coincidence, I'm sure—but the important thing is that the four Slim Shadys know how to use 'em. In the bizarre opening sequence, set in a boxing gym, the ravishing Green Eyes (she's either got a mixed background or contacts) "punches" each of the boys "out." But they soon get back "up" and commence with the old in-out, in-out, and ol' Green Eyes snaps into each of their slim jims, making fine use of this exercise thingie that I think you do leg lifts on. Lil' Kim wannabe Kynthia gets done next, on a balcony I recognized from Gangland 33, except this time the neighbors are mowing their lawn, and the buzzing is so godawful I was forced to choose between offing myself and fast-forwarding. Young-looking Almond, with her "big, fat, soft titties," wraps the rather lackluster affair up looking for her clothes on a couch. All she finds, much to her surprise and consternation, is "Willy," who lies on the floor beating off and repeating, in monotone, "Look at my dick." A real credit to his race, this one. Still, the scene turns out to be decently racy. The degree to which skin color has something to do with this depends on who's watching. "The same stupid things excite everybody," the New Yorker critic claims. This idea, more than her "pidgin" talk, is for the birds.


Anabolic, 21707 Nordhoff Street, Chatsworth, CA 91311, www.anabolic.com

Devil's Film, PMB 22425 Ventura Boulevard, #110, Woodland Hills, CA 91364, www.devilsfilm.com


jmaldoro@villagevoice.com

 
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