February 22, 2008

Pornos Frequently Have Gaping Plot Holes

In "Ass Fever #31", one of the many heroines visits her male doctor complaining of stomach cramps, congestion, headaches and frequent spells of dizziness. The doctor instructs his patient to disrobe, then, without even offering her a hospital gown to wear, he proceeds with a rather intense inspection of her person for approximately twelve minutes.

At no point during this medical exam does the doctor: 1) take the patient's pulse or blood pressure 2) inquire as to the nature of the discomfort she is experiencing with his investigation, except, oddly, in the affirmative - "I bet you like that, huh?" etc... or 3) talk about the history of the symptoms.

Worst of all, the doctor, despite the quite intimate nature of his ministrations, never washes his hands or puts on protective gloves or gear of any kind. Quite the opposite, he ends the exam wearing considerably less than when he started!

Though the exam seems to have helped his patient - we never do learn her name - and she leaves the room with a smile on her face. Incredibly, no diagnosis is ever given, no medicine prescribed, no instructions for self-care enumerated, and no actual follow-up appointment scheduled.

Both patient and doctor make a verbal agreement to "come here" more often, which might help remedy her unspecified illness, but you wouldn't know that by the rest of this confusing film. The movie next jumps to a pleasant enough pizza delivery interaction - albeit with three totally different, unnamed protagonists! - but, when the credits roll, we are left wondering about the anonymous patient's well-being.

Perhaps she suffered from one of the thirty-one feverish asses, but we'll never know.

As opaque and segmented as "Ass Fever #31" was, it told several stories relevant to today's world. The buxom patient sees a doctor. The chesty co-eds take delivery of a pizza. The top-heavy tourist gets some help applying sunblock. These simple, undeveloped stories resonate with the busty and leggy female in all of us.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for "Jizz Factory". One quickly begins to wonder what is made in this jizz factory, because, clearly, it is not a plot.

Whereas "Ass Fever #31" manages some meager exposition about the characters and their environment, "Jizz Factory" manufactures nothing more than grunting and moaning bereft of discernible context. Scene after scene, the viewer is dropped, in medias res, without even so much as an explanation from an omniscient narrator introducing these rutting hedonists.

It's possible, perhaps, to appreciate the scenes as post-modern "stories-without-words", but that may be seeing more than is there. Settings change from poolside cabana to back seat of a luxury car to the back room of a shoe store without even so much as a subtitle offering a glimpse into the lives of the characters. Most noteworthy about these various, disconnected settings would have to be that not one of them resembles anything vaguely industrial, much less a factory.

Who are these people? Where are they? What are they doing there? Why are they doing that?

These extremely basic plot points remain not only unresolved throughout this film but also unasked. It's as if the production team and actors saw storyline and character development as more of a burden than an opportunity, or thought they were communicating those elements on a totally different level.

Perhaps the incessant rub of "Jizz Factory" was, itself, the rub. Were these filmmakers telling a timeless story to which we, as viewers, are intimately aware, and, therefore, needs no introduction nor development, continuity or denouement? Was this a daring new way of demonstrating the endless human struggle for acceptance; something to which we are all so acquainted that the movie perfectly mirrors us all?

Indeed, are we the jizz factory?

I do not know; ultimately, the gaping plot holes left too much unanswered.

I will have to wait for those holes to be filled in "Jizz Factory #2", scheduled for release next week.

9 comments:

Cindy said...

And you were watching this . . . why?????

I've tagged you over at Figs. Since you're the list man, I'm hoping this won't be too much trouble for you.

Bleeet said...

Hey now, Cindy, I'm a satirist, and, maybe more importantly, I'm a man.

Actually, I'm a satirist and a satyrist.

I've not seen either of these fine films, though I do not doubt that there probably is a porn film called "Ass Fever #31"...

"Jizz Factory" on the other hand? Come on... get real.

Jizz isn't even made in a factory.

Sheesh...

Cindy said...

Sheesh yourself. Did I mention I'm the most gullible person on earth? That's why this blog is good for me.

You just kill me.

Bleeet said...

You'd be surprised how many people think I'm some sort of depraved, debauched, gruesome sadist.

I'm not that gruesome.

Nor am I always sad.

Here's your "meme" response, although I must say I do this while protesting the flagrant overuse and misuse of the word "meme" in the internet era. I don't think every e-mail or internet-based series of questions or tasks can be called a meme. In the strictest sense, that would make anything sent more than once through the internet a meme, effectively rendering the term so commonplace and over-generalized as to be meaningless in use. I would argue for more rigorous parameters before something reaches meme status, as it were. Every website, every blog, every e-mail that makes the rounds just can't be a meme. There should be some sort of cultural litmus test.

Sorry, that was completely unnecessary, leading me to my first bit of disclosure:

1. I dabble in assholetry.

2. I hate otters, but they started it.

2. I hate the number 3; I like to, instead, say "2" with a little lift in my eyebrows. A surprising number of people get it.

4. I can be very serious when I need to be.

5. This is not one of those times.

Hope that made you snicker. That's my real goal in life.

Sorry about killing you. I assure you it was not premeditated; though I doubt that's of any comfort to you now that you're dead.

Jen said...

Now, is the "hole to be filled" the plot for Jizz Factory #2? or was that just a pun that was to obvious to be missed? lol

Maybe you need to watch porn that was made for women instead of for men. I've seen two of those and they have plots (although not good ones) because a woman's most erotic organ is her brain.

Bleeet said...

If a woman's most erotic organ is her brain, does that mean she wants to be fucked in the head?

(Though I should have, I couldn't pass that one up.)

ShOI said...

Six comments and still no mention of the fact that the patient's insurance doesn't cover this form of medical treatment.

ShOI said...

A woman's most erotic organ is her brain? Dude, I'm not touching that.

Bleeet said...

Shoi, being a delightful genius, is entirely too correct again. Very few insurances cover the treatment outlined in "Ass Fever #31", though many policies seem quite content to screw you themselves. It was not clear from my viewing of the film whether or not the doctor was part of the patient's provider network, although he certainly was not an external specialist for very long.

I knew about women's brains being very erotic. That's why I collect warm, fresh ones.