A Gay Man Watches Straight Porn #5: ‘A Woman’s Torment’

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More Flaccid than Fabulous

The vampire was just made for sexploitation. After all, seduction is a large part of the vampire’s M.O. And since it’s ideal for sexploitation, then it stands to reason it’s perfect for gaysploitation. Yet while there are quite a number of movies featuring lesbian vampires, gay vampires aren’t quite as well represented (though there might be some mitigating factors).

Interview with the Vampire had potential, but then they
cast this guy.

But the gay vampire is out there. You just have to step off the well-lit path of Netflix and Prime algorithms and go deeper into the streaming service abyss. Eventually a thumbnail image of two or more attractive men, baring fangs and abs, will catch your eye, tempting you to join them. And like a willing victim, you press play.

Which is how I ended up watching the 2011 British “film” VAMPIRES: BRIGHTER IN DARKNESS.

Like any cute, young gay man, Toby Brighter (puppy-eyed Dan Briggs) has had trouble getting dates in the six months following his breakup, so his sister Charlotte (Rebecca Eastman, deftly making her obnoxious character insufferable) has secured him a blind date via a gay dating website. Though Toby doesn’t have high hopes the date will be a success, he nevertheless bathes for the occasion.

And gets our hopes up for what will follow.

Toby’s date isn’t with some drooling troll but the very handsome, very elegant Lucas Delmore (Rhys Howells). And he’s wealthy, too, having reserved the entire guild hall restaurant so they can be alone. Lucas is equally enchanted by the working-class stud. By the date’s end the two men are, if not in love, at least very infatuated with each other. However, Toby goes home alone as the two men have agreed to take it slow.

But just as Toby is about to enter his flat, Lucas appears on his doorstep, only now Lucas is more menacing and rape-y than suave and charming. Through the power of boners, he convinces Toby to invite him inside, whereupon the two make-out hot and heavy. What the audience knows but Toby doesn’t is Lucas is a vampire!

Except the man on top of Toby isn’t Lucas but Lucas’ jealous ex Anthony (James MacCorkindale), who shape-shifts back into his true form when Lucas appears at the front door. Toby manages to invite Lucas inside before he bleeds out and, after lots of hissing, growling and fast-forward action, Lucas fights Anthony off. This leaves Lucas with a choice: let Toby die or make him a fellow vamp. He makes Toby one of the undead, of course, though he at least asks Toby’s permission, as he’s a gentleman. So much for taking things slow.

Anthony and Lucas prepare to do battle, yet I’m preoccupied with
thoughts about doing something with that drab kitchen. Painting
those cabinets a different color would do wonders.

Get comfortable with this expression. Abigail
Law-Briggs wears it for the movie’s entirety.

Alas, the movie maintains a glacial pace, despite promising to ramp up the action. Not only do Lucas and Toby have an angry Anthony to contend with, Lilith, the vampire queen who turned Lucas, (Abigail Law-Briggs, who gives the movie’s best bad performance), has returned and she’s mobilizing her coven and summoning CGI demons from the Sega Genesis Hell to take Lucas back into to her fold, or whatever. Then Lucas travels to Green Screen Egypt to meet with Semech (Richard Sherwood), who I think is like an ancient vampire king (but he’s still a queen, gurl), and then I went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee because there was no way I’d be able to make it to through the remaining hour and ten minutes without some additional caffeine in my system.

I should’ve done cocaine. 

Experience the horror of ’90s caliber CGI.

Vampires: Brighter in Darkness isn’t a work of incompetence so much as the result of writer-director-editor Jason Davitt’s grand ambition exceeding his £5.99 budget. This movie originally aired as a TV series on Sky channel 201 (is that a public access station?) and was edited into a 2-hour-10-minute movie, but I doubt it would be any more enjoyable in 15-minute installments. Davitt clearly wanted to craft a vampire epic with a gay romance at its core, but there are too many story points to keep track of and too little action to hold a viewer’s interest. And if you’re expecting to see a lot of skin, forget it. Briggs’ opening credits shower scene is the only nudity in the thing. The acting, at least, isn’t too terrible, though all the actors cast as vampires speak like they have loose dentures whenever they have their fangs in.

Admittedly, this scene was kinda’ cool.

Davitt went on to make a sequel, Vampires: Lucas Rising, but given that I spent the last 45 minutes of Brighter in Darkness wishing it would just fucking end already! I decided to give it a miss. So instead, I watched VAMPIRE BOYS (also 2011). I doubted it would be much better, but at least it was significantly shorter.

Jasin (Jason Lockhart, who just might be literally sleepwalking through his role) and his coven of Vampire Boys, roam the streets of Los Angeles, seeking The One, which, as established by the movie’s black and white opening (artsy!), is to be someone of the opposite sex. And not too bright, apparently, as the young woman’s escape attempt amounts to little more than her twirling in place while Jasin and crew slowly approach. Alas, she dies, for in this movie’s mythology, The One must truly want to become a vampire to be turned (seems like her attempt at escape, lame though it was, would’ve been a giveaway). And immortality must be renewed prior to an expiration date, like a library book: “You’re entering your one-hundredth year,” warns one of Jasin’s vampire bros. “We must find The One.”

These vampires are also invulnerable to sunlight
and Hot Topic jewelry.

“Los Angeles, City of Angels,” Jasin says in a stilted approximation of wistful. “Let us hope I find mine.”

Jasin finds his angel, and his angel has a dick. Said dick is attached to Caleb (Christian Ferrer), a twink college student who has just moved to L.A. from Ohio. Caleb is sharing a house with fellow student Paul (Ryan Adames, who also contributed some songs to the soundtrack), who says his parents used to own the house then immediately contradicts that statement when he tells Caleb his parents own the house free and clear. (Regardless, someone needs to tend to that lawn.) Paul is clearly interested in Caleb, and Caleb encourages his interest by walking around the house in his boxer briefs. 

Christian Ferrer and Ryan Adames introduce us to the
concept of Sub-DeCoteau Cinema.

 

Jasin Lockhart tries to maintain some dignity while
Dylan Vox channels Bette Midler in Hocus Pocus.

But then, thanks to a bit of vampire telepathy or something, Jasin becomes aware of Caleb’s existence and, sensing he’s The One, goes out of his way to cockblock Paul. Jasin’s infatuation with Caleb doesn’t sit too well with Jasin’s right-hand Logan (best actor of the cast Dylan Vox, of The Lair as well as other things), who thinks Jasin should go after platinum blonde babe Tara (Zasu), apparently wanting the reverse of the agreement between male-female bi couples: outside play is OK so long as it’s with a member of the opposite sex. As for Caleb, he easily falls for his bleached-blond paramour, though he reconsiders when Jasin springs the whole vampire thing on him.

Vampire Boys is indeed not much better than Vampires: Brighter in Darkness. In fact, it’s actually a little worse. Sure, Vampire Boys doesn’t have the Spawn-caliber CGI, the all-over-the-place story, or the patience-trying runtime, and the movie even sweetens the deal with some full-frontal nudity...

Why is this man smiling?

Asked and answered. And in case you’re wondering, yes, he has.

...but Brighter in Darkness at least had heart. For all its shortcomings, you can tell the people involved gave a shit. Vampire Boys, on the other hand, is just one more thing released in 2011—when the Twilight Saga was still dominating the box office—that’s cashing in on the vampire craze. I’m not against cashing in, but at least be creative about it. Creativity, however, is perhaps too much to ask from a screenplay written by the same man who gave us Reptisaurus and The Amazing Bulk, and Charlie Vaughn’s directing does little to help matters. It’s a porn parody with all the sex and parody cut out, making its hour and nine-minute runtime feel like 109 minutes. Oh, well, at least they refrained from titling it Vampire Boyz.

‘Want Some Hot Fuckhole?’

As with Vampires etc., I was so grateful when Vampire Boys reached the end credits that I didn’t even consider watching its sequel, Vampire Boys 2. I was sick of watching cock-teasing gay vampire movies. I wanted some movies that would put out. So, I cruised the sleazier side of the internet went home with Tom DeSimone’s SONS OF SATAN (1973) and Roger Earl’s GAYRACULA (1983).

The plot of Sons of Satan offers nothing new beyond replacing blood and guts with boners and cum. Jonathan Trent (Tom Paine), rocking a pair of polyester bell-bottoms and stacked heels, visits the home of “Natas” (nope, not obvious at all) in his search for his missing brother Clark. Though Natas’ name and address were found among Clark’s things, Mr. Natas’ caftan-wearing manservant, radiating bitter antiques dealer energy, sniffs that he knows nothing of Jonathan’s missing brother, that the master of the house is unavailable, and that ring in a display case that looks exactly like the one-of-a-kind that Jonathan gave Clark has been locked that case for over 200 years. Good day, sir!

Jonathan politely fucks off, then reconsiders and breaks back into Natas’ house, discovering that Clark has joined a vampire worshiping cult! He just as quickly learns that “interruptions in our services are never tolerated, Mr. Trent.” His punishment: providing nourishment to the cum-hungry Natas!

Clark (Shannon) prepares to give his master his ‘life force’
(not to be confused with Tobe Hooper’s Lifeforce).

Natas awakens to a chalice of freshly squeezed jizz.

I recently learned from the Ask Any Buddy podcast that DeSimone only put his real name on the porn movies he was proud of, so the fact that Sons of Satan was released under his Lancer Brooks pseudonym tells you right away it’s one of his lesser offerings. Then again, he put his real name on Chatterbox and Angel III, so maybe DeSimone isn’t the best judge of his proudest achievements.  

That said, though Sons of Satan isn’t one of DeSimone’s better porn movies, it’s hardly his worst. It has the look of a cheap drive-in horror, which I appreciated, and its atmosphere is appropriately claustrophobic and creepy. But even cheap drive-in horrors—or Vampire Boys—have outfitted their vampires with more convincing fangs. Seeing Darryl Hughes, as the unduly tan Natas, struggle to keep his plastic vampire teeth in his mouth kills the mood, be that mood spooky or sexy. As for the sex…meh. Other than some cum-guzzling and a bit of incest (Jonathan is “forced” to suck off Clark, played by a blond cutie billed simply as Shannon), it’s all fairly bland. Still, Sons of Satan manages to have more bite than either Vampires: Brighter in Darkness or Vampire Boys. 

Who says Sons of Satan isn’t scary? Just look
at that wallpaper!

Jonathan (Tom Paine) is about to be initiated
into the Sons of Satan.

Not much better but way more entertaining than the previous three movies combined is Gayracula, which goes full-on camp with its story about Gaylord Young (toothy blond Falcon star Tim Kramer), a courier in 1783 Transylvania who delivers a package to the Marquis de Suede (Steve Collins) and gets turned into a vampire for his trouble. But before the fangs are bared, cocks are sucked. Gaylord helpfully narrates the action for the vision-impaired: “He sucked my big, hot cock with his moist, juicy lips. He twirled that tongue around my hot dick.” This voiceover is not by Kramer, who delivers his lines like a sixth grader reading aloud in English class, but by one of Gayracula’s screenwriters, Bruce Vilanch (not sure if he's Lorei I. Lee or Dorothee Pshaw), clearly relishing this opportunity to tap into his inner Vincent Price. 

The cardboard castle of the Marquis de Suede

As much as Gaylord enjoyed the Marquis’ “tight, and moist, and hot” ass, he’s not as appreciative of being made into one of the undead. And so he vows revenge on the Marquis, whom he learns 200 years later, is running a nightclub in Los Angeles.

“I traveled inelegantly but effectively.”

Michael Christopher: Master thespian.

The titular Gayracula is delivered to L.A. by none other than gay porn legend Michael Christopher. Once Gaylord’s manservant Boris (Rand Remington, in his sole film appearance) helps Christopher unload the coffin containing Gaylord, he offers the delivery man that most common gratuity in pornography: hot sex. Christopher is so into it that he is not only oblivious to the rats crawling nearby, he barely notices Gaylord rising from his coffin. When Gaylord does attract his attention, all he can do is ask if the vampire would like some “hot fuckhole.” Gaylord declines (“I don’t like sloppy seconds,” he lisps) but still can’t resist eating Christopher’s ass.

 

Though not in the way one would expect.

His bloodlust satiated, Gaylord heads to the Marquis’ nightclub, where he’s invited to watch a dancer rehearse his moves.

The rhythm doesn’t get everybody.

After taking a stroll into the club’s backroom for a quickie, Gaylord returns to the main room of the club to check out another performance, this one featuring hunky Ray Medina. Medina’s act includes popping a cork or something out of his foreskin, pulling a chain attached to his leather-cuffed balls, and, in a moment that is either hilarious or sexually traumatizing, periodically shitting out silver balls, complete with farting sound effects. (How I wish I was present to witness the audience reaction to that scene when this movie was screened for a benefit for the Los Angeles Gay and Lesbian Center.)

Performance artist Tim Medina.

If you’re wondering if the movie—and it is a movie, shot on film, not video—might try to top this moment, let me assure you/burst your bubble: it doesn’t. After watching Medina’s act, which ends with him fucking the rhythm-challenged dancer seen previously, Gaylord invites the Marquis back to his place for a threesome with Boris. But once the guys nut, Gaylord chains up the Marquis and prepares to drive a stake through his heart. To spare his undead life, the Marquis tells Gaylord of a way to break the vampire’s curse: take the virginity of a man he truly loves, in this case Randy (Randal Butler, another one-and-done performer), a waiter barely glimpsed earlier at the Marquis’ club. Once Randy is deflowered (sure), the Marquis performs a ritual (i.e., an orgy with some mild BDSM). Gaylord plays along until he gets off, after which he rids himself—and the world—of the Marquis for good.

Leaving Randy and Gaylord free to frolic in
the pool happily ever after.

Gayracula knows what it is and doesn’t try to put on airs. It’s camp with extra cheese and it’s better for it. I found it more amusing than arousing, however. Though the guys in it are hotter than those in Sons of Satan (or, for my taste, Vampire Boys), the sex in it is almost uniformly mechanical (for all his physical charms, Tim Kramer fucks like an animatronic sex doll). Still, as gay vampires go, I’d rather spend my Halloween watching the robotic ramming of Gayracula or the ’70s shagging of Sons of Satan than sleeping through the turgid talk of Vampires: Brighter in Darkness or enduring the vapid Vampire Boys.

Can I interest you in an ... Egyptian feast?

If You Like ’Em Uncut: Should you seek out either Sons of Satan or Gayracula, beware that there are heavily edited versions out there. The print of Sons acquired by Alpha Blue Archives was apparently delivered to the company as a bunch of random film strips in a shoe box, requiring Alpha Blue to re-assemble as best they could, and their best isn’t very good. Pieces of the film are missing, and the last third is rendered almost incoherent, jumping between Jonathan being held captive in a basement room, being fucked by Natas, then back in the basement, then being approached by Natas. Parts of the footage aren’t even right-side up (though this kind of works). You’ll find a more complete cut from Something Weird Video or, ahem, other sources. Gayracula was heavily edited when initially released on video, leaving out some key plot points, as well as that climactic ritual orgy. I wasted $3.19 renting the edited version, but I was able to find an uncut version elsewhere.

A Gay Man Watches Straight Porn #4: ‘Roommates’

Roommates, the Beaches of adult movies.

Well, this was unexpected: a pornographic chick flick.

I don’t mean “chick flick” as a pejorative — honey, I love chick flicks — it’s just surprising to encounter one in the genre of adult film, especially one made in 1982, two years before Candida Royalle founded Femme Productions, and directed by a man. Of course, the director in question, the late Chuck Vincent, was gay, so maybe it’s not that surprising that he’d make a movie that’s reminiscent of A Life of Her Own or a less outrageous Valley of the Dolls.

ROOMMATES is the story of three young women — yes, roommates — trying to make it in New York City’s entertainment industry. There’s Joan (Veronica Hart), a naïve drama student who moves to the city to pursue a career in theater, even though she’ll be separated from her married college drama instructor, with whom she’s having an affair. Sherry (Kelly Nichols) is a model who’s decided to stay in NYC because she’s “tired of those Hollywood jerkoffs.” Billie (Samantha Fox) is an ex-call girl embarking on a career as as an assistant producer of TV commercials, taking in roommates so she can remain in her chic-for-1982 high rise apartment.

Billie tries not to be intimidated by her former madam’s
(Gloria Leonard) hat.

We immediately get a sense of each of the three characters in their first scene together. Billie is friendly but understandably guarded. Sherry is a bit cold, more interested in taking advantage of the city’s club scene than making new gal pals. Joan, on the other hand, desperately wants to make friends, and she tries several times to engage Sherry in a conversation, never picking up on the fact that the model has little patience for her sunny optimism. Joan is also the most sheltered of the women (when Sherry asks for Jack Daniels straight up, Joan says she’ll have the same thing “with orange juice, please”), clearly not realizing you try to take a bite out of the Big Apple, the Apple bites back.

Fortunately for Joan, she’s kind of the comic relief character so the Apple’s bite isn’t too deep. There’s a funny audition montage where we see Joan calibrate each succeeding reading or interview answer based on her previous audition (e.g., after giving her age as 25 she’s told she’s too old for the part; at the next audition she gives her age as 21, only to be told they’re looking for someone “with a little more maturity”). After a string of rejections, she ends up at a small showcase theater where she meets Eddie (Jerry Butler, the hottest guy in the cast), who gives her a little coaching before she auditions, advising her to lose her glasses because this movie, like its Hollywood analog, believes women only wear glasses to look frumpy.

Then again, Joan’s glasses are fucking hideous.

Joan pleads for her lover (Don Peterson) to
give her the courtesy of a reciprocal orgasm.

Joan gets the part and develops a friendship with Eddie, her mind put at ease when he tells her he’s gay (spoiler alert: not really). He even gets her a waitressing job at the restaurant where he’s a maître d’. Life is going great for Joan. If only her college professor lover (Don Peterson, billed as Phil Smith) would leave his wife. Or, at the very least, stick around long enough to get her off.

Things aren’t going as smoothly for her roommates. Billie impresses her co-workers, especially Jim the jingle writer (Jack Wrangler, a fixture in gay porn but cheerfully eating pussy nonetheless). But it turns out Billie’s sleazy boss Marv (Bobby Astyr, Fox’s real life boyfriend at the time) is a former john, something you’d think she’d have discovered during the interview process. He proposes that she could make additional cash by “entertaining” prospective advertising clients — that is, if she values her job. To add insult to injury, the first man Billie is whored out to is Ron Jeremy.  

And this is Ron Jeremy when he was at his most fuckable.

Sherry’s story is the bleakest, her growing drug addiction leading her down some dark roads. In one grueling scene, Sherry, stoned out of her mind, is gang raped in a vacant building. The rapists take their turns, urinating on her and even shoving a bottle inside her (neither act is shown, mercifully), until they’re chased away by Paul (Jamie Gillis). Paul cleans the spooge and piss from Sherry’s body, but he’s not one of the good guys. “Did they hurt your pretty pussy?” he asks before whipping out his cock and jerking off on her. Soon, Paul is stalking Sherry, coercing her to go on dates with him and goading her to remove her panties while they’re dining at a restaurant, similar to how William Baldwin got Sharon Stone to do the same thing in Sliver, except in Roommates the scene is uncomfortably tense instead of stupid.

Jamie Gillis has Kelly Nichols’ panties as an appetizer.

Our three heroines are all pushed to the brink in various ways, with Joan again having the softest landing. While serving her professor/lover and his wife at the restaurant where she works, Joan learns the couple are going to have a baby, ergo Joan will always be the side piece. Eddie is there to give her a shoulder to cry on, and a few scenes later, a new man to love, Eddie evidently not that gay. (My first thought was, Great, Joan’s gotten herself into another doomed relationship, but then I remembered that Wrangler was happily married to a woman, though in the documentary Wrangler: Anatomy of an Icon, he described their sex life as “masturbatory.”)

If Eddie took the time to light all these candles, you know
he’ll take time to find Joan’s G-spot.

Meanwhile, Marv leases Billie out to a bachelor party, then pressures her to give him a BJ in the men’s room—during the filming of a cat food commercial, no less. Billie puts on a smiling face for the guys at the party, but there’s no masking her feelings when the groom shows up (you get one guess who the guest of honor is). Billie isn’t the first person to reassess her career while getting fucked, though for most of us that’s a figurative, not literal, fucking.

Samantha Fox’s I’ll-bite-your-dick-off face.

Sherry has it worse still, getting violently attacked by Paul while she’s alone in the apartment. It’s a pretty harrowing scene, with Gillis so convincingly terrifying that I wondered if Nichols was acting or if she really was afraid for her life. Sherry survives the encounter and decides that she needs to make some changes if she expects to see her thirtieth birthday.

A Great Adult Film, Sub-par Porn

Critic Judith Crist praised Roommates
for its “frankness, humor and heart.”
Presumably she had no issue with
the movie having only two cumshots.

 

Roommates has all the trappings of a “real” movie, with high production values and an involving story with real characters brought to life by convincing performances (Hart is generally singled out, but Fox and Nichols are equally impressive, while Gillis solidifies his reputation as the best actor in porn). It even has a Streisand-esque theme song. It’s not surprising it got good notices from the likes of mainstream movie critic Judith Crist. Were it not for the scenes of hardcore sex, I’d think I was watching an indie drama, something that might be distributed by New World Pictures or Crown International. That’s the movie’s greatest strength, and also its biggest weakness. 

As good as it is as a film, I don’t see it appealing to my straight brethren. The sex scenes, while plentiful, are brief, allowing more time for all that character and story development. Also, unlike most porn movies, the sex scenes are actually part of the storytelling and not just inserted (so to speak) to get the audience jacking, meaning their tone is dictated by the narrative, and considering that sex for our three main characters is usually unfulfilling, transactional and/or abusive, that tone is usually less than erotic (unless you’re a misogynist asshole). There are, in fact, only two scenes in the whole movie — the one with Fox and Wrangler, the other between Hart and Butler* — that are truly romantic, and they go by so fast that only guys suffering from premature ejaculation or still in their teens will be able to get off before they’re over. 

“Ta-da!”

According to A History of X: 100 Years of Sex in Film, Roommates, wasn’t a huge success when first released as the thoughts of Judith Crist aren’t generally considered by men seeking masturbation material. “Somebody looking to get off would rather see five barrels of cum on some girl’s face than emotion or drama,” the book quotes Jerry Butler. 

Sexy? (via GIPHY)

Five barrels of cum? That’s... gross, actually, but Butler’s point is well taken. I wonder if the movie would’ve fared better marketed to women, or, more accurately, if the porn industry and American culture at the time (this was back when WAP meant something entirely different) acknowledged that a female market for porn even existed.

Joan and Sherry say good-bye to their security deposits.

I didn’t watch Roommates with masturbation in mind, so I had no problem enjoying it as a movie. In fact, I think it would have worked better as a softcore film. It really is an X-rated movie with an R-rated heart. So, I guess it’s no surprise that the bulk of Vincent’s output during the 1980s was R-rated fare like Hollywood Hot Tubs, Warrior Queen and Bedroom Eyes II, with his last film being the sexploitation comedy New York’s Finest (also featuring Veronica Hart) before his death of AIDS in 1991.

*Interesting that the two sex scenes that appear mutually enjoyable involve a performer who identified as gay IRL and a gay character. I wonder if this was intentional on Vincent’s part.