Pornographic films, by the nature of the way their target audience consumes them, and in turn by the production values and intentions of those making them, tend to be, by and large, disposable and ephemeral products.
They also tend to be completely disregarded as forms of art. There are very few pornographic films which are regarded as rising above (no pun intended) the dross. Films like Deep Throat, Debbie Does Dallas and now, I contest, Spunk Fiction, do so.
Spunk Fiction is the tale of an over-stressed erotic fiction writer (Jimmy Grossman), who has, in order to stay awake for long hours and finish his literary magnum opus, taken to the extreme and desperate measure of drinking a ghastly cleaning product called Specs. The writer has become heavily addicted to the vile green chemical, and begins to hallucinate strange sexual fantasies. We jump in and out of these fantasies, and into sequences from the book he is writing, which in dizzying harmonious resonance with the main plot of the film, is about a dyslexic erotic fiction writer (Clark W), who writes (in amusingly mangled prose) of his own ridiculous sexual encounters.
This narrative is conveyed to us through an inspired combination of voice over and complex on screen graphics. This film is in turns hilarious, frightening, suspenseful and erotically charged. It does many interesting and unusual things, which porn should not really do, and in the process of pushing outside the boundaries of the genre, establishes itself as an original and artistic masterpiece.
For instance, the main character is ultimately killed by the culmination and embodiment of his most fervent sexual fantasies into the form of a sadistic super vixen. She strangles him as they have sex, and he is killed before he can ejaculate. An astonishing and shocking ending to a phenomenal tale. But as the rules of porn demand the final 'money shot' we do get it, but only after the end credits have rolled, technically therefore outside of the narrative of the film. A disembodied ejaculation, presumably taking place in whatever twisted afterlife Grossman's troubled writer finds himself in.
My praise, no matter how considered, cannot convey to you the genius of this film, and there is so much I have not told you, so many surprises and clever jokes to delight you, and hold your attention for a much longer duration than almost any other erotic film could. Most consumers of pornographic DVDs find themselves skipping through the slim story elements to get to the sex, however, with Spunk Fiction you are truly more likely to find yourself skipping through the sex scenes to get to the plot points (and that is in no way to denigrate the allure of the eroticism in this film, it is simply a ringing endorsement of the effort that has been put into the story line on display here).
As the wonderful tag-line sums it all up much better than I can;
"When words fail; F**k".
They also tend to be completely disregarded as forms of art. There are very few pornographic films which are regarded as rising above (no pun intended) the dross. Films like Deep Throat, Debbie Does Dallas and now, I contest, Spunk Fiction, do so.
Spunk Fiction is the tale of an over-stressed erotic fiction writer (Jimmy Grossman), who has, in order to stay awake for long hours and finish his literary magnum opus, taken to the extreme and desperate measure of drinking a ghastly cleaning product called Specs. The writer has become heavily addicted to the vile green chemical, and begins to hallucinate strange sexual fantasies. We jump in and out of these fantasies, and into sequences from the book he is writing, which in dizzying harmonious resonance with the main plot of the film, is about a dyslexic erotic fiction writer (Clark W), who writes (in amusingly mangled prose) of his own ridiculous sexual encounters.
This narrative is conveyed to us through an inspired combination of voice over and complex on screen graphics. This film is in turns hilarious, frightening, suspenseful and erotically charged. It does many interesting and unusual things, which porn should not really do, and in the process of pushing outside the boundaries of the genre, establishes itself as an original and artistic masterpiece.
For instance, the main character is ultimately killed by the culmination and embodiment of his most fervent sexual fantasies into the form of a sadistic super vixen. She strangles him as they have sex, and he is killed before he can ejaculate. An astonishing and shocking ending to a phenomenal tale. But as the rules of porn demand the final 'money shot' we do get it, but only after the end credits have rolled, technically therefore outside of the narrative of the film. A disembodied ejaculation, presumably taking place in whatever twisted afterlife Grossman's troubled writer finds himself in.
My praise, no matter how considered, cannot convey to you the genius of this film, and there is so much I have not told you, so many surprises and clever jokes to delight you, and hold your attention for a much longer duration than almost any other erotic film could. Most consumers of pornographic DVDs find themselves skipping through the slim story elements to get to the sex, however, with Spunk Fiction you are truly more likely to find yourself skipping through the sex scenes to get to the plot points (and that is in no way to denigrate the allure of the eroticism in this film, it is simply a ringing endorsement of the effort that has been put into the story line on display here).
As the wonderful tag-line sums it all up much better than I can;
"When words fail; F**k".