Buttman's Ass Adoro Review

Reviewed by skronker  on  11/11/2005

FAST, CHEAP and OUT OF CONTROL!
sinema reviews by skronker

Lately, has porno been bumming ya out? I know the feeling. Gonzo used to be like punk rock, right – or Italian Neo-Realism, or white trash cooking. Y’know: Take whatever elements are at hand, don’t sweat the technique or the fancy trappings, and just go for the gut. As much as porn can be about “truth,” with its fake tits, fake orgasms, and fake human beings trying to fool us all into believing they aren’t robots, there was a brief, shining moment when gonzo offered something different. A glimpse, and a glimpse only, perhaps, of a moment of pure feeling. It still does, from time to time, and it does more often than not when John Stagliano is behind the camera. These days, gonzo translates as “cookie-cutter yellow couch porn,” and functions all too predictably as an efficient way to produce lots of shippable product for studios/distribution companies dependent on a steady cash flow. The batting average is low, but once in a while someone knocks a longball, even in the most limited of formats.

The thing is, Stagliano always slams it out to the bleachers. But then, he also built the ballpark. Buttman’s Ass Adoro, Stagliano’s first new Buttman title in ages and a return to the gonzo format after the mad, feature-style success of The Fashionistas , proves the point. It reminded me what I really loved about porn to begin with – and Buttman’s unique perspective, in particular.

(I'm still fond of those days when, crushed of spirit by the failure of a long relationship, I sought solace in the arms of Sarah and Yvette, the anthropology master's candidates, who conveniently shared a little apartment, upon whose TV screen we conveniently watched my homemade comps of Buttman's European Vacation and its various sequels, as well as The Satisfiers of Alpha Blue, and what days of simple, easeful pleasures these were, and so it came to be that I associated gonzo with emotional healing, and the full and flowering glow of youthful bosoms in bloom, and Catholic girls gone wrong ... )

Well, anyway ... The whole movie is one single scene. That’s right: Uno. Hell, there’s 49 minutes of tease and tongues flickering over ripe female asses and pussies before Stag’s latest post-Rocco surrogate – Jazz Duro – releases his cock from what must have been delicious and unspeakable torment, and welcomes the mouth of Gina Jolie as she lavishes it with the milk of human glandular kindness. The 100 minute scene unfolds at such a wonderfully casual pace, with little interruptions and asides – from camera-bobbling to the priceless instant when Jazz admires Gina’s gaping asshole, and remarks: “You can hear an echo in there.” Stagliano pipes in: “Oh, wait, wait, wait! Let me turn off the air conditioner. We’ll be able to hear it better.” He means it. It’s not a joke. The obsession guides this tripling, which eases leisurely towards “actual” sex in its waning frames.

There’s so much fetish-oriented play to indulge, that the scene exerts a different effect over the gonzo-saturated eye. There’s no rush, no choppy editing or accelerated positioning to achieve this or that sex act. Stagliano’s camera abides with the perfect asses of Jolie (a Dana Vespoli dead ringer) and Lorena (not as pretty but twice as buxom, with her D+ cups bursting out of her bra), so often, and in so many different ways, from so many angles, that moment-to-moment it’s like watching some kind of abstract dance performance. (Ever see Momix?) My God, I thought: “He’s sculpting in live flesh!” Jazz gets his mojo worked and good, but the girls are feisty. Slap happy, even. But they really know how to slap: quick, certain and playful, not like a roundhouse blow. I love those Brazilians and their slapping! Spanking is OK, but everyone knows that spanking is for sissies.

Though aspects of the fucking put Ass Adoro in the “hard sex” category, it’s actually a very couples-friendly title. There’s a luxury to it, and a sense of generosity on the part of the performers and the director that makes everything that happens appear quite natural.

As Stagliano notes: “There is a level of intimacy that you can achieve if you relax and just play with your fetish with people you really jive with. This was one long sexual afternoon in Rio.”

I would love to see more Buttman flicks just like this one, but with different performers. As much as I love the sense of style someone like Jonni Darrko brings to his productions, and the spontaneous goofball playground that Joey Silvera populates with poppin' fresh fetish teens, Stagliano remains the guy who changed completely mu idea of what porn was and is, and should be. Ass Adoro only affirms that.