Title: Falconhead Two: The Maneaters Studio: HIS DVD Director: Michael Zen Cast: Paul Barressi, Brad Mason, Blake Palmer, Paul Monroe, Steve Collins, Rick Taylor, Danny Combs, Vito Bonetti, David Jones Genres:: Gay, Leather Condoms: No Reviewer: Daniel Kelly

Rating:

I’ll admit, when my sexuality was just beginning to bud, many were the HIS videos I watched. While some of them were very hot, many of them were very trippy. That’s right where the film Falconhead Two: The Maneaters fits in. C-R-E-E-P-Y. A leather man wearing a very real looking crow mask. A drag queen’s head flashing across screen that bares a striking resemblance to Leatherface from Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Eerie experimental early 80s soundtrack synths. Overdubbed voices and narration. There’s a complex story and some incredibly artistic visual moments, but if you’re looking to blow your load, chances are, this film won’t do the trick, and I’m not here to analyze an art film.

If you can look past the crow head, the body on the first man in a garden is amazing. He’s covered in hair, and wears just a leather thong, boots, a chain harness and some arm bands. His masturbation is quite bizarre as he grunts like a beast and throws his crow head back. But his dick is gorgeous, and the interspersed close-ups of cum landing on a man’s chest, nipple, hand…visually stunning.

Next, we see sexy blond Rick Taylor soaping his body in a shower, cleaning his long cock and smooth ass, and isolating his balls and rubbing them. At the same time, he imagines oral and kissing action in the garden with another blond.

The story brings Taylor to a freak bar—all forms of drag, from butch to femme, dark rooms, smoke machines. There’s an abrupt cut to a man who looks like the love child of John Holmes and Mapplethorpe, fucking a blond in a Caesar getup—and then pulling his dick out of the blond’s ass so the blond can suck it. They swap some serious spit, and then the Holmes/Mapplethorpe man gets it up the ass.

Cut to a pretty boy all in white in a white room, with a red Olivia Newton-John bandana around his blond head, rubbing a red rose petal on his ass and cock as another man photographs him. This is interspersed with some creepy visuals, featuring a sort of Egyptian drag queen with Rick Taylor.

We move to two dark haired, mustached men getting busy near a fireplace, one in a tux, the other in minimal leather, blowing him before getting fucked up the ass. This is interspersed with a bearded man in a wedding dress standing with Rick Taylor.

After the Leatherface queen gets some screentime (freaky!) we cut to what could have been a very hot scene if it wasn’t so damn artsy and unfocused on the actual sex. A motorcycle, dark lighting, and two men, one in leather, the other in a white jockstrap on the ground. There’s rimming, long cocks being sucked, and then the guy in leather gets his beautifully hairy butt fucked—but we don’t get to see much of it at all. And we see much too much of that freaky Leatherface interrupting the action.

All the eroticism in this film is lost in a world of odd and disturbing artistic expression. The film may have been a mesmerizing production in its day—and could probably make an excellent subject for a film theory class, but it’s really not a film you watch in this day and age if you’re looking to get off.