This hardcore version begins with a subway troubadour strumming a guitar and singing a laudatory song about Jeff doing it his way, or doing it the hard way, or something. It’s hard to hear all the words because of the subway’s echo and the poor recording, which is something we probably should be thankful for.
We first meet Jeff as he is ostensibly holding auditions for his stage show. As Randy Savino struggles through the script in a way that would have most directors saying, “Don’t call us, we’ll call you,” Jeff obviously sees more performance possibilities in this guy than we do. “That was great!” he intones “Now come down here and suck my dick.” (Aha, the old casting couch at work.) So Randy comes down off the stage and goes down on Jeff’s claim-to-fame. Although Jeff’s face is clearly showing his age, his humongous cock is still in prime condition. The excessively muscled torso, however seems like those grotesque elephantine breasts that women pump up with massive doses of collagen. “You’ve got a nice cock,” Jeff tells Randy as it rises up between Randy’s thighs. Indeed it is, and anyone except Jeff would have been on it in a flash. However, Randy must make do with Mr. Thumb and his four handsome sons. They bring him off. It’s now time for Randy to take Jeff’s biggie up the bum. He bends over the stage apron and Jeff drives it in. Whether Randy is experiencing pain, pleasure, or a combination of both is hard to tell. (The Agony or the Ecstasy?) Still when Jeff tells Randy to “Get on your back and get those legs in the air,” it’s awesome seeing that cock slide into that little hole. Randy then sits on the cock for the ride of his life, gradually taking it in all the way. Randy cums again. Jeff shoots a small load.
Randy got the part all right and we now see him on stage in an actual scene being played out before one of the audiences. He is in the prison shower. The lights go out and Jeff enters. He is holding a cake of soap. He drops it. The audience laughs. He orders Randy to pick it up. Jeff rapes him. (It’s a pretend fuck, of course being part of a play.) The audience is quiet. They are hoping to see that part of Jeff they came to see. They don’t.
Back in the “real world” we find Kurt Wagner and Dante Foxx sunning themselves on Jeff’s sundeck waiting to audition for the master. Their dialogue (written by Jeff?) is embarrassingly sycophantic, raising Jeff to god-like status. (I want to puke, but I just writhe in anguish.) We then cut to the deity standing before a huge banner that hangs in his living room promoting the play. “A play I wrote, directed, and starred in across the U.S.” he humbly tells us. (Gee, the guy’s a veritable Charlie Chaplin. Did he write the music, too?) Yet the banner above him says the play is “ a dark comedy written by Sean Michael”. “Now I’m doing the hardcore version,” he continues “with some of the biggest cocks this industry has ever seen.” (Oh, come off it, Jeff. Where’s the likes of Michael Brandon. Tony Donovan, Chad Donovan, Zachary Scott, Jeff Palmer, Michel Lucas, etc.?) Jeff must see himself as the John Wayne of gay porn as he continues on in that same measured, flat delivery that so characterized the Duke. He calls Kurt and Dante in from the sundeck, gives them an on camera interview, and gets them to strip so he can see the merchandise. Jeff is correct in his compliments to both. Kurt is the cutest I’ve ever seen him and his dick is rockhard as he goes down on Dante. Dante is as selfish a fucker as Jeff. Kurt is only a hole to him. There is no reciprocation. When Jeff joins them, Dante sucks his cock. (He knows where his paycheck is coming from.) Kurt must do with the Thumb boys. Kurt cums on the floor, Dante cums on Kurt’s back, Jeff cums in Dante’s face—this is not erotic, Dante is thoroughly humiliated. “You guys get the parts,” Jeff wheezes.
The subway singer is at it again. This time the song is drowned out by a passing train. “Jeff Stryker did it his way” manages to be heard above the rattle.
Now we get an unattractive bald guy writhing about in a frenzied dance. Another bald yutz is watching him and getting hard. (Let me make it perfectly clear that baldness is no curb to a man’s sexual appeal. In fact it often adds to it. These guys would be unattractive with or without hair.) The dancer stops dancing to suck dick and sit on it. Another dancer appears. This one has hair but he is even more unattractive than the baldies. Nevertheless the dickrider stops to go over and suck his dick. I though spotted dick was an English pudding with raisins, but this—the real thing—seems even less appetizing. The fucking baldy stops fucking the sucking baldy and starts fucking spotted dick. He fucks on and on and on. This entire episode has nothing whatsoever to do with this film. What is it doing in here? It’s boring! They’re boring! Thankfully one can fast forward DVDs to 32X.
Finally a title card says San Francisco and that horrible song and singer are back again. This has become really annoying! Once again I’m thankful DVDs can be speeded up. Now we have a montage of Jeff doing a shower dance and shaking his willy for the audiences in San Francisco, West Hollywood, San Diego. Next a long list appears of 14 cities and 12 countries. The places Jeff has ostensibly toured with his show: Rome, France, Stockholm, Kansas (Kansas?). The list goes on as a head and shoulders shot of a glowering Jeff is superimposed as a double exposure over all: the master of the world surveying his kingdom. Jeff is talking curtain calls. The front of his robe is open to expose the prick. Jeff pats it. Then…
Oh, no! It’s that fucking singer again!
A caption reads: Chicago
We get a scene from the play before a live audience. Then Jackson Price interrupts the action. We are supposed to believe that the following was actually done on stage before a live audience, but the outtakes in the extra section reveal this to be a piece of hokum. Jackson deep-throats Jeff’s dick (canned sound of an audience gasping). Jeff lubes up Jackson’s butt hole. He speaks to the imaginary audience. Time to fuck (sound of sparse audience applause). I’m sorry, but I’m finding this whole thing very funny. Jeff fucks him doggie and then missionary. There is a great close-up of the cock going into Jackson’s shaved hole. But this erotic moment is spoiled by the camera shooting Jeff’s sweating and puffing face between Jackson’s upraised legs with the boots still on and the pants bunched around the ankles, and I’m giggling again. Jeff doesn’t help matters with his growls and rasps that sound like a stopped drain becoming unplugged. When they both cum there is the sound of the fake audience applauding and I fall off the sofa laughing hysterically. But then—Oh, shit!—as the credits roll the subway guy is singing that song again.
One would have to be a die-hard Stryker fan not to be turned off by this colossal ego trip. His is an ego right up there with Norma Desmond’s. This film is an embarrassingly unrestrained self-glorification of a man and his dick. It is unbelievably ridiculous. It is also quite sad.