Meth-Fueled Sex Mayhem!

Like other movies put out by JM, White Trash Whore 34 includes choice promotional copy on the back of their DVD cases, arranged around some of the dirtier shots from the movie (hair being yanked, double-penetration, seven men masturbating in the vicinity of one woman, etc). We're supposedly hearing what the actresses are thinking: “I'm letting a creepy guy fuck my ass. This is a new low in my life”; “I will just die if anyone I know sees this movie”; “Smile pretty for the camera. Remember, this isn't real. It's just acting”; and my favorite, “Why is everybody laughing at me?” (The cover shows Liv Wylder [pic], her sole article of clothing, denim shorts, yanked down to her knees, standing outside smoking a cigarette while four black men point at her and, indeed, laugh.) Most skin houses would stop at the white trash conceit--what more do you need? But JM blurs the line between the actresses and their trashy characters, giving both a dimension they wouldn't otherwise explicitly have--a humiliating dimension for the cynical viewer's benefit, but another dimension nevertheless. (Further complicating this is the series slogan: “I'm not a white trash whore, I just play one on TV.”) The movie's full title is Liv Wylder is a White Trash Whore 34--see, she even has a model number.

Bother to watch the thing and you'll find more intriguing parallels between our titular whores and the women who play them. (If that sounds deadpan, don't blame me.) What I really mean is that they're all shown snorting drugs, and from what I hear, that's not without precedent on set. (For the record: In the behind the scenes footage that finally dissolves the whole trash-actress interplay, we're shown the ample “lines” being snorted up by mouth.) The vignette framing--two paranoid guys hiding from a helicopter, tweaker Liv hallucinating the aforementioned seven black men, Ashley Blue (pic) turned on by her own skinniness as brought on by drug use--somehow makes the gonzo more realistic. We're not just witnessing the typical woman kneeling on a marble floor and blowing a guy, we're telescoping the context, seeing the drugs, the depravity, the humiliation, and not least of all, the fun.

The movie's comprised of just three scenes starring the two (admittedly exceptional) women. (Perhaps JM thought the 11 men would make up for this.) Liv first does it with the two paranoids, outside, on what appears to be a car covered by a dirty tarp. (It creaks throughout.) She then wanders over to a filthy shack in her denim micro-shorts and top that doesn't come down quite far enough to cover her small tits, joining Ashley and two other druggies. Ashley scratches at her face in a small mirror and blathers about how skinny she feels; later, as she's shoving her hands down her throat and sucking the two guys off, she says something about fearing that she'll bite their dicks because of her grinding teeth. Behind-the-scenes reveals she's actually more concerned with queafing, overly uncomfortable positions, and the nasty onion smell emanating from the floor. (Liv deals rather well with being folded like origami in a trash compactor by the chatty posse.) Like in so much work, the worst humiliations are the most petty.

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