As a cinephile, I have some guiding principles that help me choose what to watch. One simple directive is to watch any and all science fiction-based pornography. I can’t explain why, but a man has to have principles. As a corollary to this rule, the more qualifiers the movie has, the more excited I am to see it. If it’s a pornographic science fiction, horror, musical, it jumps to the top of the viewing list. Unfortunately, Sex World Girls is not a musical, but it still manages to be pretty entertaining at least some of the time. If I’m being honest, I had to watch some of the sex scenes on double speed just to get through them. I know that won't make sense to some of you, but the most enjoyable part is the awful crap between the awful crap. I mean, the awful dialogue crap between the awful sex crap. I’m not sure I understand what I’m doing, but it’s a rule, I gotta watch it.
Sex World Girls was made in 1987 by the now infamous Ron Jeremy. Jeremy is a pudgy, hairy, mustachioed troll of a man with a slimy sense of humor that feels like a cross between Groucho Marx and the uncle who isn’t allowed to come to Thanksgiving anymore. It’s a mixture of Jewish Borscht-belt puns about sex, and just inappropriate comments that are even out of place on a porn set.
According to IMDb, Jeremy has “acted” in 1,578 films. Classics like Angel Buns, Wanda Whips Wall Street, Golden Girls 12, Samurai Dick, Sore Throat, Ubangis on Uranus, Weekend in Fist Fuck Land, Sexual in-Your-Endo, and Suzie Creamcheese. Jeremy has also directed 223 more, take that Tarkovsky.
People seem to love Jeremy, or at least some people seem to love him. I think they must like the idea of an ugly guy who cracks smutty dad jokes getting to have sex with lots of pretty ladies. I don’t really get it. Recently, he has been charged with a litany of sex offenses. In lieu of a defense, his lawyer, Stuart Goldfarb, offered, “There is absolutely no reason for him to ever be aggressive with women, he’s had more women than you can count.” Good luck with that in court.
So, where was I? Sex World is not a musical, but I watched it anyway. It does fancy itself a kind of feminist film, which it most definitely is not. The idea is that far in the future, in 2025, all women are labeled as either “breeders” or “harlots.” They must either bear children or spend their days catering to men’s urges. Sex World is a sort of spa where women from either group can shed their sexual obligations and find sexual satisfaction. That’s empowering, right?
We follow a variety of female customers into the establishment and get to witness their fantasies come to life. Conveniently, what these women want is what typical porn characters want: a male camera recording a male fantasy.
I do have to give Jeremy a little credit for creating the gender exchange room. A woman comes in and asks to be temporarily changed into a man, so she can feel what it’s like to be on the other side. They have her stand in a poorly lit corner with some colored wires and lights and poof she’s a man. As a man, she still has her original female voice, which she uses to talk dirty during her encounter. Jeremy doesn’t actually do anything remotely interesting with what could be a very interesting premise, but I will give him points for simply including it. The scene actually had a few erotic moments. The idea of a woman exploring what it is like to have a penis and a willing partner to use it with is actually kinda cool.
Unfortunately, throughout the film, Jeremy uses a stupid 1980s porn trick that is all too common for the era. To lengthen the sex montages in their films, many '80s porn directors would repeat selected clips, sometimes 3 or 4 times. First, you get this strange feeling of deja vu, and then you roll your eyes when you realize it’s just the same shot of a sweaty reverse cowboy from a second ago.
Then, there are the extreme close-ups to contend with. I would love to know why so many pornographers of the past, and a few still in the present, think that extreme close-ups of genitalia are what their audience wants. From the birth of the modern porn industry in the 1970s, through to the early 1990’s extreme, spotlit close-ups of gooey orifices were an essential part of every porn film. Perhaps, the directors were so excited after years of not being able to show these forbidden body parts that they overcompensated. Why not celebrate your newfound freedom by treating the audience at the Pussycat Theater to a twenty-foot-high vulva wrestling with an equally large tongue, or trying to survive a relentless onslaught from a giant, noisy sex toy?
There could be some other reason. Perhaps the cameraman, unable to join in the fun, was trying to appease his frustration by getting as close as possible, or maybe there was a sale on telephoto lenses at 42nd Street Photo. I don’t know what was going on, but back then, it seemed a porn film wasn’t complete without a dramatic gynecological exam.
There are other clumsy attempts at feminist porn, like when a young lady is plopped in a rolling office chair and surrounded by naked men masturbating for her, or is it at her? She eventually joins in, and it all ends up in a rolly, sticky mess. I guess there are some ladies out there who might appreciate such a scenario.
What I can say in praise of Sex World Girls is that I have seen worse. Ron Jeremy is not dead yet, so there may be a 1,579th film yet to come (yes, yes, I know). Of course, if all goes well, he will have to shoot it from prison.
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