What if ‘Hellraiser’ was Gay(er) and DTF?

Are men with giant bird heads scary? Moreover, are they hot?

Kinda? (Photo from BJ’s Gay Porno-Crazed Ramblings)

Those are but two of the questions you’ll ask yourself while watching the late Michael Zen’s 1976 gay porn horror film FALCONHEAD and its mid-1980s sequel, FALCONHEAD II: THE MANEATERS. Both films are considered classics of the gay porn genre, even likened to Clive Barker’s Hellraiser, writer-director Zen telling dark erotic stories—often abstractly—through dreamy imagery, effective, if unlicensed, music, lots of smoke, and, of course, lots of cum-drenched sex scenes.

However, while both movies are classics, they aren’t exactly scary.

Though both movies they have their moments.

What the Falconhead movies lack in genuine scares is made up for with mood, which is decidedly unsettling, somewhat creepy, often disorienting and just a wee bit pretentious. The first Falconhead is the more cryptic of the two films, with a barely-there storyline that waits a good thirty minutes to present itself. More immediate is the movie’s theme, narcissism, making it perfect for the age of social media.

Vince Perilli’s good side.

The titular Falconhead—a tall imposing man with, yes, a falcon head—descends a long outdoor staircase (UCLA’s Janss Steps in fact) to where a naked Vince Perilli waits, spread-eagle and ass-up. After Perilli licks the Falconhead’s leather boots, he is presented with a mirror. Suddenly, Perilli is licking and caressing his own reflection. A title card appears onscreen, reading: “He gazed into a mirror and was consumed by it.” Falconhead’s storytelling may be surreal, but its messaging isn’t subtle.

From there, we are dropped into a scene featuring one of the mirror’s earlier victims, a bearded man with a slim athletic build (“a slim athletic build” pretty much describes everyone who has a sexual role in the film). This is Adrian Wade, who was a member of the leather drag group the Cycle Sluts. His furry body is oiled and glistens in a red light. When I listened to the podcast Ask Any Buddy for background on the Falconhead films (and you can too), one of the hosts brought up that the combo of the oil and red light made it appear as if Wade was covered in blood. I guess, if you want to go there. I did not. Besides, there was more than enough bloodletting for me in the sequel (don’t worry, we’ll get to it soon enough).

Anyway, back to Wade pleasuring himself. Much of the scene is in extreme closeup, making it difficult to tell what part of his body Wade is rubbing.

Though some parts are less ambiguous than others.

A second well-hung man enters the frame; the scene is shot in such a way as to render him practically anonymous. Smoke further helps obscure his identity (Zen loves his smoke machines). There’s no mistaking what the guys are doing, however, as they kiss, the camera so close to their mouths that the scene almost becomes an endoscopy, and stroke each other, until Wade’s partner kneels to blow him. At the scene’s juicy conclusion, they kiss. The mystery man disappears, and Wade is left staring at his own bearded visage.

Next, we’re in the woods, where a heavy-set hippie dude in a black caftan is doing some sort of Wiccan shit. Suddenly his face fills the screen, and it’s one of the movie’s few jump scares. This hippie warlock who does his eyeliner with a Sharpie is Buddha Jon (a.k.a. John Parker, Brigid Berlin’s ex-husband), and what’s got him turning to the camera so startingly is his tenant, Anthony Lee (whom I think was Wade’s partner in the previous scene). Lee, tromping through the woods looking like he’s returning from a night at the Outcast, is carrying the mirror. In one of the movie’s two scenes with dialog, B.J. asks Anthony—his character name is Cat, but I’ll stick with the performer’s name—about the rent he’s owed, then asks about the mirror, accusing him of stealing it from “some trick.”

Lee ignores B.J. and retreats to his apartment. Staring at his own reflection, he fishes his cock out of a conveniently located hole in his jeans, then thinks better of it and stuffs it back in his pants, figuring it will be easier to just finish unbuttoning his fly. His stroke session becomes more intense, Lee ripping up his wifebeater and swallowing his own fist.

Gulp.

Mark David’s hot pants.

His hand isn’t all Lee swallows, as we soon see after he spews his copious load all over the mirror. It’s a moment that could easily be featured in this particular cumpilation [the whole goddamn post is NSFW, so you do the math regarding the links]. The scene segues into Lee’s post-nut fantasy (um, aren’t the fantasies before and during a stroke sesh?) A blond dude appears, his dick dangling out of a pair of crotchless leather shorts. Per Ask Any Buddy, it’s Mark David (a.k.a. Mike Daniels), one of the few members of this cast of one ’n’ dones to have a had a career in gay porn, albeit a short one. It’s at this point the movie moves beyond beating off and blowjobs to feature some rimming and fucking. The scene concludes with Lee, naked and asleep, his head resting on the mirror, while Buddha Jon looks through the window.

Next, fluffy-haired blond Joe Deitrich, wearing aviator sunglasses and black muscle tee, steps into an antiques store to browse. Deitrich is immediately drawn to the mirrors on display. Deitrich inquires about a mirror behind the counter—the mirror—and is told it’s $85. When he says he’ll take it, the manager (artist SabatoFiorello) hands it to him. “It’s yours,” he says with a knowing smile (I think it’s given to him free of charge, but the movie doesn’t clarify).

Mise en schlong.

Back at his ‘70s AF apartment, complete with mirrored walls and shaggy orange bedspread, a naked and glistening Deitrich snaps on a cock ring in preparation for some self-gratification (all the guys in this movie take their masturbation very seriously). However, Deitrich isn’t so serious that he can’t enjoy a joint with his wank. It’s at this point that another pair of hands slide up around his torso. The hands belong to a beefy stud wearing a leather hood, not credited but according to Ask Any Buddy it’s Glenn Robinson, also in Wakefield Poole’s Take One. It’s a pretty hot scene, with one of the more artfully shot rim jobs you’re likely to see in gay porn (as opposed to, I don’t know, the MCU).

The Falconhead gets some head.

The Falconhead and Vince Perilli reappear in the film’s last act. After artist Perilli, tellingly sketching falcons, finds the mirror in the woods (though I think it’s clear at this point that the mirror finds those who deserve it), he takes it home and—you guessed it—starts jacking off in front of it. In fact, he seems to be performing for the mirror. Just as he’s recovering from his orgasm, Perilli is seized by the Falconhead. This is where the movie goes in more of a BDSM direction, with Perilli’s arms suddenly bound behind his back by leather cuffs than chains. Perilli sucks the Falconhead’s dick, which is covered with a black condom. It’s an unexpected twist, given this movie pre-dates safe sex by a decade. Perilli gradually works the condom off the falcon cock. I wondered if he’d actually swallowed it, but then the Falconhead sticks his gloved hand into Perilli’s mouth and retrieves the rubber, which he then stretches over his hand, breaking it, then rubbing it all over Perilli’s face.

Just when it looks like Perilli is going to get fucked by the Falconhead, he finds himself atop black sheets, in a black room. In the room are Deitrich, wearing nothing but a metal-studded belt with matching cuffs, and Lee, with only a leather collar around his neck. They pounce on Perilli like tigers thrown a slab of raw meat. Perilli seems into it at first—I can certainly think of worse fates than getting my ass eaten by Lee while Deitrich feeds me his cock—but then the sex becomes rough; Lee and Deitrich become violent. Perilli’s pleasure means nothing. He’s there to be used. Worse, there’s no escape. He, like them, is now trapped in the mirror.

Doomed to be fucked by Joe Deitrich for an eternity.

While Perilli presses his face against the mirror’s glass, there are some shots of Buddha Jon laughing maniacally and shaking burning smudge sticks, and Sabato Fiorelli gazing mysteriously into a fishbowl, suggesting the two men are behind the fate of the men trapped in the mirror. This kind of makes sense. B.J. and Sabato would likely be rejected by men like Lee, Deitrich and Perilli, and would therefore want to see them punished by their own narcissism. People punished for their narcissism. This is a fantasy!

According to the hosts of the Ask Any Buddy podcast, Elizabeth Purchell and Tyler Thomas, Falconhead is considered the Hellraiser of gay porn, which I hadn’t heard before, but I can see the connection. The puzzle box functions the same as the mirror, after all, though being trapped in a mirror to have rough sex for eternity doesn’t quite have the same stakes as being ripped apart by Cenobites—or forced to watch Hellraiser: Relevations.

Falconhead and his pet.

Making the Most of a Backyard Pool,
a Smoke Machine and Saran Wrap

After directing a couple of porn movies for the heterosexuals (Reflections; The Filthy Rich), Zen returned to the Falconhead myth, releasing Falconhead II: The Maneaters in 1984. Though just as dreamlike (and pretentious) as the original, the sequel has something of a plot.

Manimal after dark.

Derek (bleached blond Rick Taylor) dreams of the Falconhead, now in the muscle bear form of Paul Barresi (girl, there are stories…), and showing more skin because of that fact. The Falconhead is in what at first appears to be a lush tropical garden but is more than likely the landscaped surroundings of someone’s backyard pool. After appearing to roar as falcons do (I write “appearing to” because the soundtrack is largely electronic music and narration), the Falconhead pulls his dick out and jacks off. This backyard is that nice.

The end of the dream is cut in such a way that it appears the Falconhead’s load lands on Derek, but then as Derek rubs it onto his chest lather appears. He is in the shower. In V.O., he talks of being haunted by the dream, though he’s clearly very turned on by it. Let’s just say his privates are thoroughly lathered during this shower. Still, he’d rather get off to memories of a recent tryst in “the mountains” (but the same backyard pool setting as the Falconhead dream). I get it. It’s like when you click on a porno video that has acts/themes you’re not comfortable responding to (I can’t be into stepdad-stepson piss play, can I?) and jump to something more familiar. Derek just isn’t cool with being aroused by falcon/muscle bear hybrids.

Paul Baressi has a proposition for Rick Taylor.

As Derek is rinsing off his splooge a man decked out in full leather gear (also Baressi) enters his home, careful to take the phone off the hook as he approaches the bathroom. This sequence is quite effective, actually, and one of the few moments in either of the Falconhead films that feels like a conventional horror movie. Derek, however, seems more annoyed than threatened (“Who the fuck are you?” he asks in a distinctly British accent). The leather man ignores his protests, informing Derek in a slow, gruff whisper, that he is perfect (i.e., a total narcissist) for the assignment, which is to find the Falconhead and “rescue” the leather man’s slave. All Derek has to do is enter the mirror and resist the temptations he finds there. Derek agrees, but only after the leather man promises to set him up “for the rest of [his] goddamned life.” As for the identity of the leather man’s “boy,” Derek is only told that he’ll know him when he sees him.

Sabato Fiorelli (right) wonders what the hell is that
on Rick Taylor’s head.

The leather man disappears and suddenly Derek is at a costume party, wearing some sort of horse headdress constructed of leather and chains. This is like Hellraiser, albeit one of its lesser sequels. It is here that he’s presented with various temptations, the first being two young men with “identical” cocks. “Now they can masturbate and be fucked at the same time by the same cock,” explains a narrator, who just might be Derek. These two men are Paul Monroe and, sporting a ’stache and tattoos, Brad Mason, and their scene together is quite intense. I was also surprised to see it features an instance of a performer spitting in another’s mouth (Monroe into Mason’s, specifically), which I thought was more of a 1990s thing—especially in the videos by TitanMedia.com—as sort of a safe sex workaround to guys taking loads in the mouth. To be clear, Falconhead II was made just ahead of gay porn incorporating safer sex precautions, so the spitting here is just to spice things up.

Rose-y Palmer

But Monroe and Mason’s scene is merely a warm-up. Derek still must find the mirror, which he discovers in a bedroom that’s surprisingly free of any horny party guests. It is the same mirror from the original film, and when he dons the leather man’s glove that has been left in front of it, he is transported into the “hall of mirrors”—so, mirrors within a mirror. The first mirror he gazes into is presented by Sabato Fiorelli, the only performer from the original, dressed as a white-faced nun. Derek gazes into a white room inhabited by straight performer Blake Palmer, back when he was young and cute, dressed in a loose white shirt and tight white pants. Palmer gradually strips while posing with a rose. As he does so, a narrator recites a piece about the “rape of humiliation,” which includes this passage: “I dreamed a Nazi tried to rape me in an alley, but I bit his tongue and the blood dripped swastikas.” Palmer ultimately jerks off with the rose, piercing his bottle-shaped dick with its thorns and using the blood as lube. Um, no thank you.

Derek next encounters a middle-aged drag queen in a wedding dress. The queen bride presents a mirror that shows a master-slave scenario. Steve Collins, dressed much as he was in Gayracula, sans cape, summons his servant, who appears wearing a mask/headdress and little else, proffering a tray with an apéritif. Collins removes the servant’s mask to reveal we’re getting a second and welcome appearance by Brad Mason. Mason immediately drops to his knees. Here Zen uses a Vangelis track, the jaunty electronica working especially well when Collins fucks Mason, almost in time to the music.

“Nothing saves like Saran Wrap®.”

The master then becomes the slave. Mason strips Collins, then wraps him in Saran Wrap (“I must be wrapped as a package to make my body conform”). Though I found the plastic wrap business a little silly, the two performers make it hot. After Mason gets off (and helps himself to a taste) he dresses in Collins’ discarded tux. When he rings the bell for the servant, Collins appears, wearing the same mask/headdress that Mason wore at the scene’s beginning.

Paul Monroe goes down on a motorcycle.

We’re not done with Mason yet, or Paul Monroe, as they both return for the penultimate sex scene, which involves Monroe jerking off on a motorcycle while recalling a grungy encounter with Mason. I’m all for another helping of Mason and Monroe, but I’ve seldom seen the sex-with-a-motorcycle motif not look dumb. Fortunately, Zen focuses more on Monroe than the bike, but Monroe still incorporates the bike into his jack-off session. Then again, I drive a Kia Soul, so what do I know about being sexually aroused by vehicles.

Having successfully resisted the temptations along the way (never mind that only one drag queen offered), Derek is granted access into the Falconhead’s smoky garden lair, the same backyard with the tropical landscaping seen earlier. The Falconhead hands Derek a sword, which makes the leather man’s trussed-up slave appear, somehow. Naturally, Derek can’t resist the temptation of the leather man’s “boy.” The slave is played by Danny Combs, who’s got a sweet ass and big dick, so it’s understandable why Derek would want him for himself. This doesn’t sit well with the leather man, however: “You…mother…fucking…bastard. He’s mine. Mine!” The leather man vows revenge, teasing a third movie that never happened.

As is its custom, Bijou features
photos from a completely
 different movie on its DVD
 cover for Falconhead.

Comparing the two movies, the quality is about equal, though according to the hosts of Ask Any Buddy Falconhead II is the more popular movie, probably because it does have more of a narrative. While I thought Falconhead II was good overall, with Zen making the most of a backyard pool, a smoke machine and Saran Wrap, I prefer the aesthetics and the cast of the first film. Not only that, I also found the action of the first Falconhead to be hotter. I might’ve gotten into the second film a bit more if Zen had cast someone other than Rick Taylor as the lead narcissist. I just didn’t find Taylor that compelling. Worse, he looks like a former frustrating co-worker, and once I made that comparison in my head, I could never see Taylor as sexy, even when he had Combs’ dick buried in his ass. I could’ve done without the bloody rose J/O scene as well.

If you want to check out Falconhead II, be aware that the versions available on adult streaming sites are severely edited, removing the Saran Wrap scene and the final scene, though it looks like “the rose scene” is mostly left intact, at least it is on GayHotMovies.com. Fortunately, there are full 80-minute versions floating around, you just need to know where to look, like here. The first Falconhead appears to be uncut, and can viewed on PinkLabel.tv, GayHotMovies.com and BijouWorld.com. Just remember if you watch either film: “Ejaculation is the final denial of death.”

Whaaa?

A Bizarre (and Kinda' Hot) Love Triangle

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Short Takes: ‘The Love Machine’ (1971) ★★

There’s a reason The Love Machine
doesn’t share the same cult status as
Valley of the Dolls.

Twentieth Century Fox’s adaptation of Jacqueline Susann’s Valley of the Dolls was lambasted by critics upon its 1967 release, but that didn’t stop audiences from recognizing its awesomeness and turning it into a huge hit. So, it was inevitable Susann’s follow-up bestselling novel, The Love Machine, would also be adapted for the big screen, by Columbia Pictures this time out.

This time, instead of dolls it’s dick that drives characters to ruin, specifically the one attached to its main character Robin Stone (John Phillip Law). Stone is a New York City newscaster/manwhore who moistens the panties of Judith Austin (Dyan Cannon), the much younger wife of IBC network head Gregory Austin (Robert Ryan). Judith, pussy aquiver, urges her oblivious hubby to make Robin IBC’s new anchorman. It’s not long before Robin is named head of the network’s news division, and Judith shows up expecting to be thanked hard and often. Robin is happy to oblige, especially now that his model girlfriend/doormat Amanda (Jodi Wexler) is out of the way, having killed herself after Robin dumped her. Judith, however, won’t disappear so easily.

The Judith and Robin business is mostly confined to the movie’s second half. The first half focuses more on Robin treating Amanda like shit, even hitting her when she tries to leave his apartment early in the morning because she must get ready for a photo shoot, and butting heads with IBC’s programming head, Danton Miller (Jackie Cooper). There’s also an underdeveloped subplot about a hack comic, Christie Lane (Shecky Greene), who hosts a schlocky-but-successful variety show on IBC, getting involved with Amanda briefly before entering a transactional relationship with IBC’s publicist/“celebrity fucker” Ethel Evans (Maureen Arthur). Flitting about the movie’s periphery is openly gay fashion photographer and Robin’s best friend Jerry Nelson (David Hemmings), who holds out hope he can get his hands on the love machine one day.

The Love Machine is no Valley of the Dolls, though it offers some campy fun here and there. Dyan Cannon is miscast (an older actress like Lola Albright or Eleanor Parker would’ve been a better fit even if they had less marquee value), her portrayal of Judith rendering her less a calculating ballbreaker than a bratty high schooler, but at least Cannon understood the assignment. Same goes for Hemmings, whose performance is one of the more entertaining ones in the movie, stereotypical though it may be. Unfortunately, John Phillip Law mistook his character’s name as a character trait, acting like a stone and robbing the movie of much of its entertainment value. He’s attractive, yes, but totally unbelievable as a “love machine.” (BTW, “the love machine” of the title is primarily referring to television itself, though that point gets lost when the movie focuses more on Robin’s compulsive need to fuck as many women as possible.)

Director Jack Haley, Jr., does the movie no favors by simultaneously mimicking Valley (cheesy fashion advertisements, an author cameo, plus two Dionne Warwick songs) while also including some self-aware camp, such as having the Hallelujah Chorus play as Danton Miller exits Gregory Austin’s office, relieved he was not summoned there to be fired. And don’t expect its R-rating to up the ante. Though you get some fleeting glimpses of bare tits and ass (including Law’s) and a couple of F-bombs (but way more F-slurs, especially in the movie’s homophobic last act), they do little to amp up the sleaze. In the end, the movie adaptation of The Love Machine never establishes itself as anything more than a cheap imitation. All that said, it’s still more enjoyable than the turgid 1975 adaptation of Susann’s third bestseller, Once is Not Enough.

Double Takes: ‘Minx’ (2022-2023) ★★★ ½ / ‘Spread’ (2024) ★★

Minx, a show about a magazine that
features pictures of penises, ended up
being cancelled by dicks—twice.

Feminists and pornography have long had a contentious relationship, especially during porn’s “Golden Age” of the 1970s and ’80s, so wouldn’t it be funny if a staunch feminist found herself working in the very industry she abhors?

If we’re talking about the recent series Minx, the answer is a resounding yes. In this twice-cancelled series, idealistic Vassar grad Joyce Prigger (well-played by the wonderfully named Ophelia Lovibond) thinks readers of the early 1970s would be eager to read her feminist magazine, The Matriarchy Awakens. Unfortunately for her, the publishers she pitches it to aren’t—except one, Doug Renetti (Jake Johnson, also excellent), who runs Bottom Dollar Publishing, producer of skin mags with titles like Lusty Lesbos, Giant Juggs and Feet Feet Feet. He just wants a few changes, in writing style (“When I read it, I feel like a fucking teacher is yelling at me.”) and, most importantly, incorporating photos of naked men. Joyce balks, but her older sister Shelly (Lennon Parham) convinces her to take advantage of the opportunity, reminding her that it’s unrealistic to expect everything she wants. And so, The Matriarchy Awakens gets watered down into a cross between Ms. Magazine Lite and Playgirl: Minx.

Despite having plenty of lube, the Bottom Dollar office/studio is not a well-oiled machine, the operation only loosely supervised by Doug, with his assistant (and sometimes girlfriend) Tina (Idara Victor) frequently stepping in to reign in the chaos. Joyce learns her staff is comprised mostly of Bambi (Jessica Lowe), a nude model now working as “centerfold coordinator” (“I made it up. Doesn’t it sound fancy?”), and Richie (Oscar Montoya), the company’s make-up artist and sole gay male employee, as Minx’s photographer (“[N]one of the other guys want to shoot wieners,” Bambi explains).

Though it’s tempting to dismiss the show as Diane and Sam Make a Porno Mag, Minx has more going for it than that. Joyce struggles to reconcile her feminist ideals (and intellectual snobbery) with the business of selling skin mags, reluctantly accepting she’s becoming the face of sex positive feminism. Doug is cool when controversy makes Minx a best seller, but its high profile also attracts the attention of a Phyllis Schlafly-type city commissioner (Amy Landecker), though what nearly finishes his company is a “Men’s Rights” protest that turns violent. Meanwhile, Richie begins to feel he’s betraying his own community photographing models for the female gaze when Minx owes part of its success to gay readers. And Shelly and her husband Lenny (Rich Sommer) decide to take full advantage of changing mores to spice up their sex life (i.e., they become swingers).

I wanted to watch Minx when it first premiered on HBO Max, but before I could get around to it the show, which had been renewed for a second season, was abruptly cancelled and yanked from the platform. Starz came to the rescue, only to cancel it as well. Then the series landed on Tubi, America’s dumping ground for discarded content. But the series was abandoned way too soon and fully deserved a third season. As it is, viewers will be left wanting to know if Minx will be wrestled away from Constance (Elizabeth Perkins, who became Stockard Channing when we weren’t looking), the wealthy businesswoman who gradually takes over the magazine in season two; if Bambi joins the People’s Temple; and if show runners will ever realize they could audition some ambitious porn stars to do guest spots as Minx centerfolds instead of relying so heavily on prosthetic dicks. Sadly, we’ll never know.

Spread is better than one might expect,
but it’s hardly worth your (or Harvey
 Keitel’s) time.

Staying on Tubi, we go from an unwanted sit-com set in the swinging ’70s to an unasked-for “Tubi Original” movie set in the present day. Spread is about a struggling young journalist, Ruby (Elizabeth Gillies), who out of desperation takes a temp job at the floundering skin magazine/Hustler riff, the titular Spread, only to become invested in saving the magazine from being shut down. (Her big solution: introducing the editorial staff to the existence of social media. In the 2020s.)

Speaking of taking jobs out of desperation, Spread is run by Frank, played by HARVEY KEITEL! Yes, regularly-cast-by-Martin Scorsese-and-Quentin Tarantino Harvey Keitel. In a Tubi Original. It’s not easy getting old in Hollywood…

In fairness, while Spread is no Taxi Driver or Pulp Fiction, it’s better than one would expect of a Tubi Original. Its production values are at the higher end of mid, and all actors give professional performances if not necessarily likable ones. As one might expect, Keitel gives the most nuanced performance, actually managing to pull at my diseased heartstrings, though the tear he brought to my eye might have more to do with my thinking of how sad it is that Harvey Keitel is accepting roles in Tubi Originals than the plight of his character. Gillies also gets a special shout-out, her performance reminiscent of a Mean Girls era (a.k.a. pre-trainwreck) Lindsay Lohan.

But while Spread is better made than expected, it fails as a comedy. Spread doesn’t set a high bar for itself, so I guess it’s not surprising it mines laughs from raunchy vocabulary words like analingus and from dildos (writer Buffy Charlet and/or director Ellie Kanner find the mere existence of sex toys hilarious). Those jokes are too obvious to pass up. Less forgivable is Spread reducing its characters to caricatures. Ruby describes herself as a feminist, though her commitment to the cause doesn’t go much deeper than putting a “Feminist as Fuck” sticker on her cubicle. What Ruby is, really, is an entitled white girl, appalled that she must take a job she feels is beneath her when she should be working at The Sophisticate, this movie’s fictional stand-in for Vanity Fair.

Yet Ruby is easier to warm up to than other characters, who are either assholes for the sake of being assholes, like editorial assistant Leslie (Bryan Craig), a gel-bombed douchebag who appears to have wandered in from giving nerds wedgies in a different movie, or simply goofy/weird, like Nelson (Blake Harrison), the socially awkward IT guy, and Prudence (Teri Polo), the flighty receptionist. Only David Allan Pearson as Hank, the too-old-for-this-shit editor of the Pussy Quest page, got a genuine laugh out of me.

Minx succeeds by focusing on its characters as they navigate the changing world of the early 1970s. Spread, on the other hand, has little to say, preferring to task its lead with re-organizing the office dildo closet because aren’t dildos funny? Unfortunately for Spread, not nearly enough.