Gorn With the Wind!

People often ask me, "Maldo"—that's my nickname around the office—"don't you get bored watching wretched, hot pornos all the time?" It's annoying. So please stop, guys! What I'd like to know is, have you heard of director Lizzy Borden? Frontline recently devoted a segment to her new video, Forced Entry. Part fictional snuff, over-the-top gore, and violent hardcore porn, Forced Entry won't be taking home any AVN awards, and might even force the mainstream media to momentarily focus on our country's largest entertainment industry. (Hint: It involves lots of ass-fucking!)

Realistically, we'll be lucky if Howard Stern mentions the video. (This column doesn't count. I know you're just looking for the classifieds.) And if he did, who knows what he'd say, besides, "Damn, you've got a fine ass!" Forced Entry opens with a young woman, typically porn-attired in a way-short skirt, answering a knock at her mansion door. A man wearing a homemade AC/DC hat asks for directions, slipping in when she goes to pick up the phone. The woman returns to the front door, and the man, his looming shadow thrown against the wall, grabs her from behind.

So far, it's the least suspenseful slasher flick ever. As the scene progresses—she, screaming, crying, and begging; he, slapping and spitting on her face, ripping open her shirt, and putting what appears to be a dry finger into her ass—the vid becomes the most explicit slasher flick ever. Still, unsuspenseful and totally unmysterious. The bogeyman is just a man. And the man, it turns out, is just one of several "Night Stalker" copycats (they shout out "Richard Ramirez" in each vignette). This is convenient. Borden doesn't even have to set up the generic slasher motive—unloved as a boy, unsexed as a teen—which at least has chilling and/or cheesy implications. These guys are just crazy!


Forced Entry
Lizzy Borden

Cannibalism: The Last Supper
Lizzy Borden

The actual means of violence—degrading chatter, skin-reddening whacks, loogies hawked all over—do not change throughout the movie. And once the attacker drags his victim by her neck up the grand staircase and into her parents' bedroom, the movie simply becomes the most violent porno I've seen. It's both shocking and completely banal. His face-fucking her and demanding to know, "Who controls your mouth?" made me more squeamish than the standard fucking—guys usually fuck the women hard in porn, but it's less often that you see somebody forcing his dick down a woman's throat as she chokes and gags out pukey gobs of spit. Still, face-fucking happens all the time in hardcore. In fact, I've found it more disturbing elsewhere. In Cum Drippers 2, reviewed here two weeks ago, some jackass subjects Donna Marie to similar treatment—the upsetting part being that, as far as I can tell, he takes her by surprise.

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To prove that her actresses knew what they were signing up for, Borden tacks a bunch of bloopers onto the end of Forced Entry. Veronica Caine's wig comes off! Other wacky antics on the set prove the non-exploitative and even friendly relations between cast and crew members! (For instance, Taylor St. Claire is totally "not pregnant." Those guys weren't jumping on a real fetus . . . ) Although it may have been the case for Linda Lovelace—recently deceased, R.I.P.—porn doesn't by definition exploit women, although, as with all workers, unions and laws are their only protection. What Borden can't and, according to Frontline's interview, won't defend is how the violence is portrayed—that is, without social context, as if only random head cases rape, murder, or get too rough in the sack.

That said, not counting the offscreen shooting and momentarily shown plastic-bag smothering, Forced Entry gets truly gory in only one spot. Don't fret, though. Borden's other new flick, Cannibalism: The Last Supper, should slake your thirst for fake blood. As cartoonish as its billed genre, "gorn," suggests, the video plops rape scenes in a latter-day Donner party situation, just without the starvation and covered wagons. The meek thrill-seeker, played by Brandy Lyons, finds herself overpowered by her drugged goth boyfriend and coke-snorting host; Veronica Caine looks on, Borden-like. The Lyons character, before being bagged with her b.f., actually enjoys forced d.p.—believable!

D.P., if you don't know, means double penetration (the mouth doesn't count, I don't think, and if it does, well, please tell your mom that she and I have done everything). Penetration figures big in most slasher and gore flicks—people (especially girls who are or have just been fooling around with boys) tend to get stabbed or sawed up, and if not that, bludgeoned by some phallus. Plus, every gore movie has a meat shot: somebody's insides exposed. Cumshot, too—the blood that flecks the murderer's face, proof that his goal has been accomplished and that the scene has ended. Caine's Satanist ringleader makes as much clear when she asks for "all" of her disciples' "bodily fluids." (I wonder—is earwax a fluid?)

The especially brutal buffet segment (starring Alexandra Quinn as a trapped escort) results—after countless frightening threats from some hideously complected lunkfuck and constant, repulsive hair-yanks and choking—in the most gratuitously dye-splattered, "flesh"-strewn denouements in either movie. The escort winds up prone on the table, snaking viscera piled in an oval shape on her stomach. Blood flow and sex organs figure so prominently here, I can't help but think of menstruation—and that some friends of mine call the bedsheet stains resulting from their periods "crime scenes." Historically, this sort of bleeding has been made a source of shame for women (and boy, do they get testy about that when they're on the rag). In Cannibalism, the fear and wonder surrounding women's bodies intersect. Scarily enough, gore and porn make perfect bedfellows. You just have to be prepared to change the sheets.

Extreme Associates, 11133 Vanowen Street, suite D, North Hollywood, CA 91605

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