From: [email protected] (KBell96415)
Newsgroups: rec.arts.movies.erotica
Subject: Review (sort of): Buttslammers 14 (and others of its ilk)
Date: Tue, 22 Apr 97 17:30:05
Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com
Lines: 53
This is actually less of a review than an overall commentary on the entire
series and how I feel it illustrates a major problem with g/g movies in
particular and all porno movies in general.
To begin with BS 14 is a horrible, boring, sleep-inducing waste of time
which is sad because BS 2,3,4,9 and 10 are absolute masterpieces of g/g
eroticism. The series itself hold a special place in my memory, like
seeing Star Wars and Raiders of the Lost Ark for the first time. BS 1 and
2 were revelations (IMHO) that g/g movies existed and were extremely hot.
So impressed was I that have now watched everyone in the series, and
unfortunately I have come to the conclusion that a dearth of creativity
has spelled the end of this series and makes me wonder about the continued
viability of a genre of films that relies on supplying more and more
extreme sights to evoke interest.
The main problem with BS 14 is that the whole series since 10 has fallen
into a formulaic trap. Watching a BS video I realize that predictability
has replaced surprise with mind-numbing results. Every scene now revolves
around 2,3, or 4 women who do a 10 minute dance, then some very brief
orifice licking, followed by the ubiquitous Doc Johnson oil, then about 20
minutes of extended penetration of every girl which only serves to wear
out my fast forward button, because once the oil goes on, the only thing
happening is the exquisite attention to penetrating every girl, in every
possible way.
The worst part about falling into narrative formula is that the pleasure
in porno movies comes from the anticipation of seeing something new.
Watching a BS tape is an exercise in predictability, that most importantly
I have seen dozens of times before.
Even worse though is that BS 13 and 14, and to a lesser extent some of the
early ones fall into a self-reflexive trap, where the girls acknowledge
they are making a tape. Done in say a Jean-Luc Godard movie or in a
Brechtian play, this narrative technique destroys the fourth wall, and
reminds the viewer that what he/she is watching is a fictional construct.
In a porno film all it does is take the pleasure out of the act of
voyeurism, especially when it is done so tackily like in scene 4 of BS 14
where the brunette reminds the girls that it is a Buttslammers movie so
they all have to dance first, which simply reminds me to grab my remote
control.
Finally the new Buttslammers movies illustrate a major problem with g/g
movies in particular, how much longer will viewers like me watch the same
old thing over and over again? One of the trends everybody seems to be
noticing is the increased proclivity of extreme sexual scenarios like
D/P's, felching, rimming, gangbangs, huge orgies, etc. because, as with
violence, viewers become desensitized to the normal, now boring sex acts
of simple missionary etc. The first three Buttslammers are jolts of pure
energy, the last three are the dying gasps of a dead horse being reamed
with yet another different dildo.
Any and all comments are welcome on any thread of a topic I touched on
Created: April 24, 1997 -- 12:24 AM
Last Updated:
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169 “I can arrange all that.” Such Apaches as had not gone back on the war-path returned to the States with the troops; but there were five months more of the outrages of Geronimo and his kind. Then in the summer of the year another man, more fortunate and better fitted to deal with it all, perhaps,—with the tangle of lies and deceptions, cross purposes and trickery,—succeeded where Crook had failed and had been relieved of a task that was beyond him. Geronimo was captured, and was hurried off to a Florida prison with his band, as far as they well could be from the reservation they had refused to accept. And with them were sent other Indians, who had been the friends and helpers of the government for years, and who had run great risks to help or to obtain peace. But the memory and gratitude of governments is become a proverb. The southwest settled down to enjoy its safety. The troops rested upon the laurels they had won, the superseded general went on with his work in another field far away to the north. The new general, the saviour of the land, was heaped[Pg 305] with honor and praise, and the path of civilization was laid clear. Parliament met on the 10th of January, 1765. The resentment of the Americans had reached the ears of the Ministry and the king, yet both continued determined to proceed. In the interviews which Franklin and the other agents had with the Ministers, Grenville begged them to point to any other tax that would be more agreeable to the colonists than the stamp-duty; but they without any real legal grounds drew the line between levying custom and imposing an inland tax. Grenville paid no attention to these representations. Fifty-five resolutions, prepared by a committee of ways and means, were laid by him on the table of the House of Commons at an early day of the Session, imposing on America nearly the same stamp-duties as were already in practical operation in England. These resolutions being adopted, were embodied in a bill; and when it was introduced to the House, it was received with an apathy which betrayed on all hands the profoundest ignorance of its importance. Burke, who was a spectator of the debates in both Houses, in a speech some years afterwards, stated that he never heard a more languid debate than that in the Commons. Only two or three persons spoke against the measure and that with great composure. There was but one division in the whole progress of the Bill, and the minority did not reach to more than thirty-nine or forty. In the Lords, he said, there was, to the best of his recollection, neither division nor debate! His cheek paled for an instant as the thought obtruded that the man might resist and he have to really shoot him. "Good, the old man's goin' to take the grub out to 'em himself," thought the Deacon with relief. "He'll be easy to manage. No need o' shootin' him." "Them that we shot?" said Shorty carelessly, feeling around for his tobacco to refill his pipe. "Nothin'. I guess we've done enough for 'em already." John Dodd, twenty-seven years old, master, part of the third generation, arranged his chair carefully so that it faced the door of the Commons Room, letting the light from the great window illumine the back of his head. He clasped his hands in his lap in a single, nervous gesture, never noticing that the light gave him a faint saintlike halo about his feathery hair. His companion took another chair, set it at right angles to Dodd's and gave it long and thoughtful consideration, as if the act of sitting down were something new and untried. "Besides," Norma said desperately, "they're only rumors—" "Oh, I've found a way of gitting shut of them rootses—thought of it while I wur working at the trees. I'm going to blast 'em out." During the next ten years the farm went forward by strides. Reuben bought seven more acres of Boarzell in '59, and fourteen in '60. He also bought a horse-rake, and threshed by machinery. He was now a topic in every public-house from Northiam to Rye. His success and the scant trouble he took to conciliate those about him had made him disliked. Unprosperous farmers[Pg 124] spoke windily of "spoiling his liddle game." Ditch and Ginner even suggested to Vennal that they should club together and buy thirty acres or so of the Moor themselves, just to spite him. However, money was too precious to throw away even on such an object, especially as everyone felt sure that Backfield would sooner or later "bust himself" in his dealings with Boarzell. "Let's go home," she said faintly—"it's getting late." HoME干别人老婆嗯啊小说
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