In the interest of getting “hard” copies of my work under one roof, I plan to spend the next few weeks posting the entire archive of my film journalism here on ScullyVision. With due respect to the many publications I’ve written for, the internet remains quite temporary, and I’d hate to see any of my work disappear for digital reasons. As such, this gargantuan project must begin! I don’t want to do it. I hate doing it. But it needs to be done. Please note that my opinions, like everyone’s, have changed a LOT since I started, so many of these reviews will only represent a snapshot in time. Objectivity has absolutely no place in film criticism, at least not how I do it.
Originally posted on Cinema76.
“I’m not popping wood for this trash” says Heavy Metal Jeff, a born again straight edge projectionist who finds himself face to face with a lewd poster from an abandoned adult theater. Nope, above feeling any sort of sexual desire that isn’t rooted in Christ’s love and approval, and he’s not alone. Each of his coworkers at a middle-American two-screen movie theater are on their own journey toward religious redemption, with their desires being held in check by the responsibilities of a low-difficulty job and the guidance of performatively religious theater manager, Mr. Pike.
It’s a Friday night in 1992, and if the five employees can quickly clean up after an evening of showing Encino Man and A League of Their Own to paying customers, they’ll be permitted to privately screen whatever movie they wish as a reward for a hard days work. It’s a weekly tradition at the theater, but tonight things are a bit different. This is the first night that Chastity (Jillian Mueller) is serving as assistant manager. Mr. Pike will be back to check on the crew at midnight, but until then Chaz, as she’s referred, is in charge. Below her are Abe and Todd (Evan Daves and Larry Saperstein, respectively), a duo of mischievous, hormonal troublemakers, Ricky (Galen Stott), the apple of Chaz’s eye, and the aforementioned Heavy Metal Jeff (Robbie Tann), whose previous addictions have led him to an aggressively straight and narrow path. Oh, and even though it’s in his name, Heavy Metal Jeff is not listening to heavy metal music. It’s “hardcore.” Get it right.
When the sudden appearance of a manic drifter leads to the discovery of a hidden storage area below the theater, our heroes stumble across a stash of torched film canisters. But there’s one reel that remains perfectly intact, and it’s this mystery film which is chosen for their after hours festivities. Unfortunately for this ragtag god squad, the film is possessed by a sex-crazed succubus, and they’ve accidentally released her into the theater.
In the tradition of chillers like Popcorn or Demons, Porno shows how fun it is to set a horror film in a movie theater. From the lobby to the offices to the hallways, bathrooms, and the theaters themselves, it’s a wonderful place for a single location narrative. You get a variety of colorful settings, but the claustrophobic feeling remains constant. The script, by Matt Black and Laurence Vanicelli, makes clever use of the location to move through multiple permutations of character pairings. Being a film that jumps right into things, leaving little time for exposition, it’s smart to do so, as the character interactions are what serve to give us the information we need without telling us outright. This does leave a few plot beats undercooked — e.g. a character has a physical handicap that doesn’t become apparent until it’s invoked in passing much too late to carry any weight — but this is a small sacrifice to make in the name of pacing, and Porno’s peppy pace is perhaps its strongest attribute.
The comedy is character-based as well, with more gags landing than not. Plenty of physical humor is employed in addition, with one piece of gross-out gore serving as a standout (I was lucky to see this during its festival run, and I can happily report that the entire audience, myself included, was caught between guffaws of hilarity and squeals of discomfort for this wonderfully prolonged sequence of gore). But what really gives Porno its staying power is its heart. Being a tale about repression, it’s no spoiler to say that dalliances with a horny sex demon has forced our ensemble to reckon with their own beliefs and desires. Thematically, there’s a lot of touching material here about identity and self-expression. The script never comes at this material in a hard or pointed way, instead letting the experiences of the characters do the talking. It’s critical of the stifling and judgmental nature of even the most well-intentioned religious zealotry, but the commentary never comes from a mocking place. It’s kind of remarkable really, since the film itself remains broadly appealing without feeling neutered by the need to fill seats.
From a filmmaking perspective, director Keola Racela has created a slick, colorful tale bubbling over with enthusiasm and energy. It lacks the “too sharp” digital feel of so many mid-budget horror releases, which gives it a wonderful feeling of time and place (see: 1992), that is bolstered by a complex and memorable score from Carla Patullo. Credit as well to cinematographer John Wakayama Carey for bringing the ‘90s feel of the film as well as the Giallo feel of the film-within-a-film to life.
As both a funhouse horror flick and a rollicking teen comedy, Porno succeeds. It’s light, fun fare, with a little something for everyone, just so long as no one minds watching a sex demon vomit black blood into the face of a peeping Tom for a very, very long time.
Porno is now available on VOD.
