Twinky Charles Delgado is miscast as a swimming instructor. Instead of playing to his boyish strengths, he strains to pretend to be hunky -- or to actually know how to swim. Smarter erotica-makers would have thought of a more fitting concept for him, or his co-stars, Oliver Lacson and Brixx Madrigal, who play his lovers/students. In such demanding roles (models in trunks), they're cute at best, silly at worst -- never truly sexy and only marginally "revealing". Set entirely in one lame garden pool and shower in flat daylight, and relying on narrating heads to talk the story forward, Junior is the most ridiculous-looking in the perplexing "male student body" series.
When people say a film is so bad that it's good, they're usually talking about one thing: passion. The film makes so many aesthetic missteps because, in the first place, the filmmaker has committed himself -- thrown his being -- into something so wrong or so awful. It's that dare to dream -- and fail -- that gives the film its unique joy. Think of your favorite so-bad-it's-good movie. Now try to measure the amount of love you conceive to have been put into it. Without that leap of passion, it would merely be bad bad. With it, it's bad good. I would argue that the best examples of such films aren't bad at all; they're usually just strange, left-of-center outcasts.
Libido never got a theatrical release, but it did have a special screening for a curious paying audience, before it was released on video. From the start, it was announced by its spin machine as a film of low standards -- you come for the sex and nudity because it has nothing else to offer. True enough.
The story is old, but not bad. A city couple vacations with a country couple (The women are sisters) in a house near a brook, which leads to an opening of minds, naturally. There's spouse-swapping, and rape, but better yet: After the city guy excites the country guy with stories of his pansexual experiences, the two dudes get it on. There's little guilt, or any other emotion for that matter, and everyone walks away happy.
The cardboard performances are the constant source of amusement, especially by actress Maricris Losada, who looks like she's perfectly content with not knowing what she's doing. A certain amount of innocence always works well with sexploitation. Jeff Luna as the older farmer and Marcus Cabrera as the young nurse are exciting because their limited, barely written characters are offset by their confident parades of fresh, fleshy, imperfect bodies. (CJ Manalo is the third guy in the flashback.) I probably would've been bored if they weren't so cute.
But where's the passion? Writer-Director Lucas Mercado's filmmaking is so sweatless and impersonal, Libido ends up less of a so-bad-it's-good movie than just every other run-of-the-mill cheapo. Most of the lovemaking scenes -- watch two bodies pile on top of each other -- barely generate heat, not because of misplaced effort, but because of lack of it. The recipe for a great bad-good entertainment is here. The cook would have served us better if he poured out his guts. I hope that's a lesson for everyone out there venturing into bad movies.
This collection of shorts lampoons well-known fairy tales for a gay sexual angle, mostly played for laughs. In a revision on Cinderella, the slave princess, her stepmother, and stepsister are all bitchy fags who want to boink the handsome prince. The gay Rampelstiltskin is out to claim no infant, but the hero's boyfriend. Beauty and the Beast becomes Bayot and the Beast. Funny? You bet. But the real surprise are the "moral lessons": modern and subversive takes on love and relationships. For example, the prince is turned off by divas-in-waiting, so take a good look at yourself if you are. Implicitly, like the politically correct fairy tale books, these clips are saying we would do better to imbibe more progressive values than the outdated lore of our forefathers.
Less effective are the shorts based on myths that aren't obvious targets for roasting -- one is a version on Filipino elementals that play with people who get lost in the forest (nice try, though), another is a riff on nighttime street spirits (a story that's near unintelligible).
But it's the production values that suck most glaringly. The tacky fairy tale design looks like a bad school play, and with the undisciplined filming, would be embarassing even for YouTube. Campy shouldn't be synonymous with cheap. How fantastic this could have been with a little more effort. Queer Fairy Tales gets by on wit -- and okay, sex, too. Actors include Jef Tabason, Bobby Reyes, Sam Corpuz, Richard Lopez, Danilo Lee, Marcus Gutierrez, and Rusty Adonis. Produced by Queeriosity Video Project.
Everyone had an opinion on Freshman, whether they’ve actually seen the video or not. The follow-up Sophomore one-ups its predecessor, as if to address the protests. There are not one but two featured models – Will Sandejas (Sikil) and Froilan Moreno (Kalakal) – which makes room for more sexual scenarios. Both guys dangle their privates – Your wishes have been heard! – at first shyly, then later aggressively. For extra usefulness, the entire gig is built as an instructional on how to get sexy on the beach. (Sample tip: Go topless. What?) In fact, SophoMore couldn’t be farther from Freshman conceptually, and the only continuity is in the title – and the creepy voice-over.
But the most special added ingredient is the sensuality of Will Sandejas. Here’s a guy who knows how to utilize his body for maximum visual effect, the mark of an actor in control. When he pleasures his partner with his lips and tongue and his gracefully arched positions, the heat burns a hole through the screen. I wish I could say the same for Froilan Moreno, who must’ve been asked to play coy but instead comes off as play-pretending. But he also does some wonderful things with his mouth and hands. The romancing in SophoMore is pretty darn real. You want nipple-sucking? You got nipple-sucking! It couldn’t have been easy with all that clingy sand. Props to the guys. When Junior comes out, can I be the third guy?
The concept – four artforms as demonstrated by four naked men – proves that messy is sexy. In “Bodypaint”, we barely see the guy in full, but the camera lovingly traces the brush as it caresses his skin, nipples, pubes, branding its path in color. Few softcore videos are ever as tactile, and that is Four Art’s Sake’s delirious erotic surprise.
The high point is “Pottery”, in which a guy soils himself increasingly as the shorts and briefs come off. The clay pot he’s shaping looks like literal shit, but see, the point is that the art is in the creation, not the product, and in the inherent sexiness of the process. The naked male body is also art, because by the time the segments are over, the body and the artwork intermingle as one, inseparable from each other.
The ridiculous voice-over cheapens the affair, but also adds to the campy flavor. This video’s got balls (literally), and in the case of “Canvas”, a little bit more. “Photography” is the most ordinary of the lot, with a model striking poses by a brook, but even that isn’t so bad.
So is it art? It’s inspired.
The DVD contains no extra features. The cast and crew are uncredited, but my bet is that that's Ralph Darell Mateo on the cover.
True to its title, the scenery doesn't change. Five clips of the same friggin' locker room, and the same thing happening: Some guy walks in and plays with himself -- except for one variation when a second guy assists. Cheap, right? So why am I thoroughly amused?
I keep waiting for the guys to show me the money, that's why. The suspense is built-in. If it were porn, I would know exactly what to expect. But it's MTRCB-approved, publicly available softcore erotica, so I'm giddy with the possibilities amidst the repression. Which is, in a way, what the images of boys jerking off in this video represent. And they enjoy their freedom, so to speak, with flashes of pubes and concealed morsels of flesh, some balls, some dick, not completely because they're not totally free. The final segment is baby powder fetish bonanza, as Rusty Adonis lathers with the white stuff to pleasure himself, which climaxes in a visual maelstrom, like a dream of snow, a release.
So even though Locker Boys may look stupid, it's smart enough to play with your head like erotica should. Most of the guys appeared in other releases by Queeriosity Video Project. Adonis and Francis Sienes were in Boylets. The rest are Bobby Reyes, Jonard Buenaventura, and Mark Cortez.
The five episodes of the direct-to-video erotica M2M Wet Wet Summer achieve a new level of incoherence. Have fun trying to decipher the stories. In "Kalsadang Mainit", two guys meet on the street (by chance or on purpose?), then they fall in love (or do they?), then sneak around a backlot to have sex (at least that part is certain), then split, then what? I've seen it three times and I still don't get it.
In "Hanap Mo Ba ay Ligaya...?", a guy is searching for someone named Ligaya (Happiness), but everyone he asks is waiting for the same person too. It's a fairy tale hokum that's an allegory for... something... profound. "Pa-Shawer!" is labeled an "amateur contribution", but I wonder which part needed contributing to: the perfectly ordinary story (two guys meet on the beach then make out in the toilet) or the perfectly ordinary filming of it.
Maybe the narratives are too complicated to pull off for Queeriosity Video Project, the factory behind M2M Eyeball and Koveryboyz. But there are butts and bodies glistening with water or sweat, and lots of touching and romancing, so who cares? The biggest saving grace is actor Danilo Lee's surprise peekaboo behind the bushes, a sprung awakening. The rest of the guys are Rusty Adonis, Darwin Camara, Sam Corpuz, and Richard Lopez.
You may get lost while watching Strictly Confidential: It's largely a documentary, but there are also poetry readings and abstracted images of naked men. It certainly experiments with form. But, like Director Jowee Morel's previous docu-whatever, When a Gay Man Loves, Strictly Confidential attempts to paint too broad a canvas of homosexuality that it ends up with no focus and little depth. The title doesn't even apply.
The experiment flops because of the details. Those queer poems? Could've been read better. Those expert interviews? They often make hasty generalizations about gay men, passing them off as facts. Those naked men? Twisted and discolored, they don't look sensual, exactly, and it's hard to tell what they're doing. The private parts are slapped with black boxes, but that one's probably the work of the MTRCB yet again. There are supposedly 28 naked men here, including a bunch called "The Game Boys": Jhay-Ar Sta. Maria, Brew Bondoc, Chito Gaspar, Rodel Moreno, Richard Miles, Warren Medina and Avi Avila.
However, some ideas in Strictly Confidential clearly come from a positive place. There's an almost gradeschool level approach to its lessons, carefully explaining as if to people who don't know anything about gay men or gay sex -- are there people who are as clueless anymore? -- and advocating the use of the politically correct term "MSM" or "men having sex with men" and also safe sex. So even if Strictly Confidential is messy video-making, it could still save a life or two.
The men and women on the island have one secret each. Too bad that's all they have. They're as lifeless and inert as the film's mysterious mountain hut: basically a shell of a secret doing nothing. While we wait about an hour before they confess, they keep mum and pretend there's drama. There's none. This is not a movie; it's a test of patience.
The secrets aren't shocking either. SPOILER ALERT! The married guy is gay, no surprise. He's played by Emilio Garcia, no surprise. His lover is Paolo Rivero, no surprise. To indicate that his secret is ruining his marriage, he grunts and acts like a snot. For his big revelation, he simply says it aloud. So much for struggling with a secret. John Apacible plays a cocky drifter who's supposedly numbed by constant attention from both sexes. They may sound like sexy roles, but you're better off watching these actors' better, sexier movies. Here, they're practically neutered by lack of personality.
But the real mystery is the origin of this movie, which emerged from nowhere. When was it made? What was the original title? Who made it? Both director and writer are uncredited. Are they ashamed, understandably? With no one else to blame, why not veteran cinematographer Romy Vitug, who obviously prioritized pretty colors over motivation and natural movement? Or Sony's Cinealta camera, which curiously gets marquee billing? No toy should ever be substitute for good material. That's no secret.
We live in an age when the notion of celebrity is so malleable that a video can be made about a guy who isn’t famous, but it’s that video that may just make him famous. Knotty concept, eh? The real question is whether you’d want to spend your money on somebody’s video slam book. FreshMan fetishizes on a guy named Andrew Miguel, who apparently didn't have a life before this video; We know what he wants to become (a Somebody), but we don’t really understand who he is, or was. Instead, to create his pin-up status, we get crucial info like his favorite dessert (ice cream) or where he stands on the boxers/brief debate (I don't want to spoil it for you). Based on his rendition of the song "Reasons", he's probably not a pro singer, or not yet. But the guy is cute, and he models and undresses in the standard sexy settings – showering, swimming, reclining in bed, and in a campy surprise, eats that favorite dessert. I do think the video doesn’t show enough of him. If his soul couldn’t be bared, maybe his entire body should, if you know what I mean. I wonder if the MTRCB had a hand in the sanitation. At least they were kind to butt lovers, because the guy is not shy about mooning.
FreshMan is reportedly the first in a series. (Somphomore, Junior, and Senior are up next.) These will likely look better as a collected set. I hope they were intended to escalate in quality and daringness.
There's a split-second frame in the video's last segment that differs in the VCD and DVD versions. The DVD allows us a really quick glimpse of... something behind the towel. The DVD also includes a photo gallery, behind-the-scenes footage that's not much different from what's already in the main feature, and a ticket to win a date -- with Andrew Miguel? It didn't say. Raffle will be drawn on December 2009.
There are just too many stories of gay men who meet through the internet or phone that the intriguing but limp direct-to-video M2M Eyeball simply needed a follow-up. (The first one also probably made big bucks.) The new shorts are a tighter and more confident bunch, smooth like parables. The funniest bit involves two bottoms who jump into their encounter of errors by wiggling their buns at each other. But the wisest entry shows a judgmental whiner who rejects his partner then eats his words when he glimpses his long tool, until finally, he gets a dose of his own medicine. Director Harbi Estradough demonstrates a knack for comedy; even his somber clips move with wit. The lone contribution by Crisaldo Pablo, though sluggish, finishes with a clever visual reveal.
Like the first one, how much you enjoy M2M Eyeball 2 depends on how hot you think the guys are. Most have full frontals, to help make your decision. They are Prince Ballesteros, RJ Reyes, Echo, Emon, Topher Barreto, Edwin Vargas, Derek Estacio, Ian Portuguez, Andro Morgan, and Mark Rodriguez. Most of them appeared in past releases by Queeriosity Video Projects, and my grade below reflects how high they raised my temperature this time around, or not.
The jerkoff video -- where guys pleasure themselves for our viewing pleasure -- is commonly believed to be the territory of porn. In this age of Corbin Fisher and Sean Cody dot coms, it may seem futile to us to watch a wanking that doesn't eventually produce a cumshot, even though images of men sexing themselves, whether literal or merely suggested, have been around in the arts for centuries and is still being made today around the world as erotica.
In Unkoverd Boyz, the sequel to Koverboyz Fantasies, we learn that the thin line between jerkoff hardcore pornography and jerkoff erotica is not a matter of artfulness, but simply of concealment. The video takes creative pains to hide the stiffies -- by blurring or soft focus and with objects obstructing the view, such as a leaf or a chair -- even though it also allows us generous little peeks at the erections and other dangling goods. That's how we know the makers weren't really making porn, just "frustrated porn". Someday, hopefully soon, I would like to see a version of this released without the blockage, because I'm sure it's hibernating in somebody's hard drive somewhere.
In terms of creativity, Unkoverd Boyz surpasses its predecessor. Writer/Director/Producer/Cinematographer Cris Pablo appears to be more sure of his shots, and for the first time, I finally get his use of interstitial text, a style he has been employing in his past features to drive a narrative, like silent film captions worded in a pidgin gay street language. At its best, Unkoverd Boyz plays like a sexual reimagining of the silent film form. A guy masturbates to a photo of a hottie, then the hottie comes to life and they masturbate together front-to-front like mirror images. A similar one occurs with one guy inspired by a magazine, back-to-back with his fantasy guy garbed in an Arabic-inspired anti-clothing, and they never see eye-to-eye. Segments such as these remind me of the works of Kenneth Anger and Pink Narcissus, because of the far-out homoerotic dream logic, only with less psychological heaviness. If there's any justice, Cris Pablo will also be revered, perhaps in a less judgmental future, as a gay filmmaker who bravely put his raw queer idiosyncrasies out there in his movies for all to see.
My favorite vignette is the craziest one: Topher Barreto, out of breath and covered in mud, approaches one gay man after another, begging for water. They deny him, except for the last one. In gratitude, he drags the man to the sea, where they frolic and the dirt washes off, revealing a beauty in the form of Topher Barreto, as if you couldn't recognize him with the mud. It's a twist on the old folk myth of the old and ugly beggar who rewards the person with the golden heart. In this case, the reward is the frog prince himself, offering his lips to ravage and bushy groin to devour. I thought it was utter genius.
Two or three segments are lame in comparison because they're the tired old setups of guys sitting on beds touching themselves, but the varying sexiness of the guys pays off, especially a fresh face named Echo, leaning against a wall with his rock-toned chocolate body glazed with ocean mist. The other guys in the cast include Andro Morgan, Paolo Moreno, Edwin Vargas, Mark, Aris, Xander, and Ian Portuguez.
In the dubious genre of erotica masquerading as instructional videos, the fourth M2M has reached a nadir in uselessness. The concept is corny – that we should use our senses in lovemaking (duh) – but the “tips” are worse: They seem to have been plucked from an idiot’s ass. You want to know how to use your sense of hearing? Play the piano while your partner bangs the drum.
Yet the most unforgivable atrocity of a video about the senses is that it’s not sensual. In the section about sight, we hardly see the two men’s bodies because they’re concealed in shadows in a cramped shower. The section about hearing (like the entire video) has no natural sound, only the overused score we’ve heard in past M2M products. The people behind this obviously didn’t want to spend much.
Which leaves us with the cult of the featured men. It’s great to see John Miller and Cedric Javier finally doing another sexy video, after their brief turns in Provoq and Pinoy Kamasutra respectively. While it would have been nice to see them back when their bodies were in better shape, they still pack sex appeal and it’s a treat to see them cavorting together. The rookiest of the troupe, Joseff Young, is the best performer. He has the enviable/unenviable task of licking chocolate syrup as it mixes with the cascading gallons of sweat on the body of Kristofer King. Paolo Rivero headlines the cast, but his participation is so tiny as to be negligible.
The two Paolos play characters that snugly fit their public personas: Paolo Rivero is serious and mature (he's an Urian-nominated actor who's been making movies for close to a decade), while Paolo Serrano is impetuous and happy-go-lucky (he's allegedly involved in a webcam scandal in which he flashes his privates and in another scandal in which he allegedly extorted money from a gay lover). The contrast works erotic wonders.
They're neighbors who meet, have lots of sex, fall in love, fight, and break up. Think of it like a story from Kwentong Kalibugan -- short (a little over 40 minutes), something trite you might have heard before or thought up yourself, but delivers for as long as it gets you hot and hard. The set pieces are standard Pinoy softcore: shower, bedroom, bodega, car, basketball court. No dialogue too, just voice-overs. Clearly, the cost of making it must have been minimal, but you almost can't tell by the relatively decent technical values.
The two actors use their bodies well -- torsos, butts, pubes, bushy armpits, sweat, musculature. But half the appeal is in their facial expressiveness. Rivero brings the gravitas of a repressed man blossoming, but it's Serrano who steals the scenes with his unstoppably horny behavior. He channels sex with the mere flash of his naughty boyish smile. My favorite is when he assaults his partner's body with his actively lapping lips. I only wish the narrative didn't wind down disappointingly to a ho-hum ending. Here's to more Versuses.
The models are cute and their segments are unpretentious: They pose and fondle themselves (or a partner) for our viewing pleasure. The pause button is handy for a longer look at the peekaboo jewels, which often appear only partially -- a cockhead here, some balls there -- but there's one full semi-erection in a shower. There may be more exposed flesh here than in most erotica of its kind in the Philippines, but the abrupt cuts suggest a lot of good stuff were left in the editing floor. A couple of the models are pictured in the jacket, but absent in the video, and with the 40-minute running time, Koverboyz Fantasies can feel scrimped and incomplete.
Though the production values are certainly less polished than the still unbeaten bar set by Provoq, it's unfair to call Koveryboyz Fantasies a "jologs" (or poor man's) erotica. I think the twinky models -- billed first name only as Myles, Aljohn, Martee, Xander, and Borj -- are yummy in whatever social context. What makes the video less than stellar is the craftsmanship: a lack of careful attention to beauty. Watching it, I get a sense that the man behind the lens neglects to make his models look their best. There are unflattering angles, lighting, and styling here. Erotica's power is image. At its most effective, all the elements combine to ellicit a reaction at first sight, and the viewer may not be able to explain why. The feeling stems from the gut. Koverboyz Fantasies is an okay softcore, more satisfying than Queeriosity's previous release M2M Eyeball, but it's almost disappointing knowing a bigger reaction is possible had it been pieced with a little more love.
The international release doubles with M2M Eyeball.
The formula for these mid-length documentaries is as bad as it is simple: Take one sensational subject, a profession in the sex trade (strippers, sex masseurs, live sex performers), and give it the cheap tabloid treatment. While the real-life subjects' faces are hidden in shadows during their narrations, the most melodramatic cliches are emphasized through written texts, maybe to wake us up from the boring visuals, then interspersed with extreme close-ups of their bodies in re-enactments of their work. It's exploitation without revelation, in all senses of the word.
In both Ang Pagtatapat Ng Masahista and Ang Pagtatapat Ng Macho Dancer, the regurgitated stories of poor people forced to use their bodies for survival far outnumber anything remotely novel, unique, or even sincere, although there are a few interesting tidbits here and there -- that is, if you can stand the disintegrating visuals and listen to it like a bad radio interview. The naked body shots are only titillating in concept, though Macho Dancer is more watchable than the static Masahista. They're essentially longer, more human, only slightly better versions of network television's already awful, bullying, and uninsightful ratings-grabber "exposes" on the subject.
Ang Pagtatapat Ng Mga Sex Performer has less of the tabloid overemphasis, and also overall an improved video, mainly because the men -- who in real life, perform heterosexual sex in front of a live audience, or as toros in a torohan -- don't feel the need to be defensive about their masculinity, unlike many of the guys in the first two videos. They even sound sexy when they express pride in their macho work. (About half of the video features women subjects.) A performer's penis is almost visible through wet whities during a shower scene, and it's as close to a money shot as anything in the series.
Another video called Ang Pagtatapat Ng Mangkukulam focuses on similarly sensational tabloid fodder (the occult) but promises none of the sex, so I won't even bother.
GRADE: ANG PAGTATAPAT NG MASAHISTA: D ANG PAGTATAPAT NG MACHO DANCER: D ANG PAGTATAPAT NG MGA SEX PERFORMER: C
The different sexual positions demonstrated in these two instructional videos are for the benefit of a man/woman pair, but maybe a few of you could try if they also apply to the anatomies of two men. But until we find further usefulness for these videos, or until someone invents a gay Kamasutra (again, I won't charge for the idea), the sights of naked hot men in simulated heterosexual sex should do.
In Pinoy Kamasutra -- the first one, starring Katya Santos -- the sights are disappointing. A big, ugly graphic framing dwarfs the scenarios by about a third of its size. If you're familiar with how hot the men are -- Haren Cuevas, Jerwin Mercado, Jay-R Zamora, Alken Miranda, and in starring roles, Justin De Leon and Cedric Javier -- you'll mourn at how barely you can recognize their features with the horrible lighting.
As if to atone for their sins, the second Pinoy Kamasutra -- starring Myles Hernandez -- is leagues better in photography. At least this time, we get curves and highlights and natural skin tones. The action also appears more alive. During a trick called "The Moving Wheel", Harry Laurel displays active physical prowess, not to mention a showcase of his strong, smooth ass. The other men -- Anthony Logan, Niko Arellano, Jerwin Mercado, and a brief appearance by Chester Nolledo -- are also nicely featured.
However, the storyline for the second is even more irritating than the first. Yes, there's a story. While the first one concerns the discovery of the ancient Kamasutra book in a friend's bedroom apartment, the second one is more "hip", as the Kamasutra is attached in an email from a secret admirer. With sleep-inducing scenes of monitor screens and typing on the keyboard -- and interminable interludes of bellydancing females -- the second one contains more filler.
The DVD of Pinoy Kamasutra 2 has a behind-the-scenes feature, while Pinoy Kamasutra has nada. The people who made the first one must hate their viewers so much.
The thin premise -- strangers from the internet meet up for sex -- sounds like a concept that's so five years ago, yet the people behind M2M Eyeball commit to it to a fault. The actors don't use last names; As if spectres in the chatroom, they're credited only by their nicks: AJ, Myles, Richard, Paolo, Mark, Aljon, Ken and Adrian. They're mostly cute but in ordinary nextdoor ways. However, everyone braves full frontal nudity, and it's wonderful.
Quasi-poetic texts and pregnant glances are tacked on to supposedly widen character and story. In typical purple by director Cris Pablo, they also function as commentaries on gay relationships. But it's a stretch -- an underwhelming exercise straining for relevance. Even the actors seem like they're pushing for drama that isn't quite there.
The video peaks during its purely visual exploitative moments. My favorites are the solo jerk-offs, because the guys, in playing to their webcams, appeal directly to the voyeurs on the other side, which is us. Early on, a guy masturbates with his shirt still on and his laptop literally atop his lap -- and his rigid penis is digitally blurred. (Apparently, it's permissible to show dicks but only when they're limp.) Pumping furiously, he appears to be immersed in his own hedonistic world, and it's the sexiest image in the set. Like a session in front of your computer, this video is best enjoyed as unsubstantial timewaster with pictures that amuse.
Finally, a trashy video that’s B-movie excellent! It’s the story of a model photoshoot in a haunted mansion, and because even the ghost is a sexpot, there’s nudity and sex galore! Funny and raunchy as hell. Granted, it’s made with the straight guy in mind, so there’s loads of boobies and lesbian coupling that’ll require a fast forward button.
However, as the narcissistic photographer, Josh Ivan Morales is a juggernaut of horniness. Anything the hunk does – or says – onscreen is charged with the joy of guiltless sex, and it’s contagious. I’ve never seen him act so free and loose, not even in his porn past. During sex, he expresses how proud he is of himself by raising both his arms to flex his muscles and kisses his bulging biceps – while still humping the woman! He does this on three different occassions. He’s dripping with sweat, too, and the look on his face is pure cocky machismo. If anyone has had any doubt that the guy’s a sex god, lend them this video.
The only other male in the cast is a skinny, youthful cutie named Martin McKenze, who plays the photographer’s assistant. For a comic relief with an annoying whine, he’s hot, too, as he gamely poses with only a few leaves covering his genitals and he shows masterful tongue-flicking and nipple-sucking on one model. I loved how his tongue seemed to have a life of its own throughout the video. And my god, his pink nipples.
Eric Ramos, the guy behind the also-great-but-straight Sikreto Ni Kuya, knows how to have dirty fun. We could learn a lot from his approach: His videos are sexy because there’s a celebration of mindless pleasure at its core. A gay version of him is needed, especially in these times when our gay sex image seems always troubled by a tragic seriousness.
Twelve men -- in solo chapters representing the twelve months of the year (a New Year's reveler in January; a graduating schoolboy in March; and so on) -- strip to their bikinis, get wet, rub their bodies, but oddly, don't show their faces. I don't get it. The guys don't even do anything particularly wild (such as, there's no frontal nudity) to warrant the anonymity. It's a showcase of headless men doing boring things!
Granted, it's hard not to get enticed by close-ups of bodies, which range from light to dark-toned, baby-fatty to lean-and-ripped. There's miniscule masochistic pleasure to be had at watching patiently, waiting for something extraordinary to happen that doesn't, then settling for a guy's chin or obscured facial angles, imagining they're as hot as they're suggested to be. Sort of like the sexiness of a geisha's nape. You're thankful for what you get because they don't indulge you with much. But when it's over, you've merely sat through twelve months of blah.