The second installment of this “extreme graphic sexual content” series has, unintentionally, a lot to say about societal norms and mores in the twenty-first century.
In our world of widely available Internet porn and personal sites where anything-goes pictures, videos and lewd journals abound, it’s truly becoming, er, harder to surprise or shock when the likes of Edison Chen’s trysts with a number of partners or even NHL stars showing off their personal equipment are “butt” a few clicks away.
That being said, Shane Ryan’s film does have some moments that are not for the squeamish (humiliation and rape make up most of the “action”) but also copious footage for the voyeur that lurks in nearly all of us.
Ryan plays Brandon, the killer who at last count had lured 22 women into his death-nest then boffed, bruised, and belittled the objects of his perverted lust before snuffing out their lives—frequently celebrating the slaughter with a few necrophilic thrusts. He’s never been caught, nor has the mysterious, unknown cameraman (for the long shots; most of the “amateur” fuckumentation comes from Brandon’s home video, replete with “Blair Witch” jerkiness, black-and-white/colour shifts and grain as big as his balls). This last can be known as Ryan/Brandon doesn’t shy away from putting his engorged self (never “resting”) up on the screen to be devoured by his most recent victim (Kai Lanette whose mysteries are also revealed) or—at first willingly: this pair both enjoy some rough play—become the orifice for his condom-covered spear. Safe sex before murder is great message for kinky neophytes.
The actors’ wanton exhibitionism fails to pack the intended punch promised by the packaging; instead, the film—at the base level—comes across more as a triple-x video downloaded from YouTube than a must-have porn extravaganza. Now that everyone’s body parts have been put on display, what might the third installment come up with for a new sensation? (Perhaps Brandon goes tranny to avoid capture?)
Nonetheless, on the “How-could-that-happen?” side of life, Ryan's production offers grim insight as to how the Paul Bernardo’s of this world might have gone about their only-too-real, horrific business. From that point of view it’s a disturbing look into minds we can never hope to understand, but even that realization evokes a genuinely disquieting feeling when—at some juncture and at different moments depending on what turns the viewer’s crank—our own selves become stimulated during the mayhem. Is that reaction the first step down the road to dungeons and depravity?
Guess there’s only one way to find out … JWR