Reviewed by Don Luis
I've tagged this particular film under the genre 'Plot' simply because we don't yet have a category for 'tattooed, hard rockin', Brooklyn-based hipster hotties', more recently termed 'alt-porn' within the industry. The most noteable producers of this genre are Eon McKai and, you guessed it, Joanna Angel. Joanna's Angels is a self-proclaimed film version of the website BurningAngel.com which, if you haven't seen yet, you need to slide into number one on your priority list pronto. Granted, these girls sport a very niche-specific aesthetic: beautifully done tattoo work, pierced everything, ear jewelry gauged wider than my thumb, and punk rock attitudes that shine through in all they do. This is the antithesis of something like Big Phat Apple Bottom Booty, with original music by Bad Religion on the soundtrack, this is the new generation of erotic filmmaking.
To start off, I can't say enough good things about this production, it's simply visionary. Sex with these girls is hot, fast paced, and qualitatively different from the porn valley dominated fare. Whereas most videos are an obvious contrivance, even the pinnacle of gonzo fare, these angels make it look like they're right at home, and our cameraman happened to walk in by mistake. Joanna looks like she practices deep throating absentmindedly, she likes her sex rough and comes in violent, full body crunch, screaming orgasms. You can almost hear Morticia Adams in the background cooing: "Wednesday, play with your porn!"
The movie is what would happen to Charlie’s Angels if, well, you let Joanna Angel get her hands on it. She’s the leader of a trio of hard knock Brooklynites, determined to undermine and eradicate Katrina Kraven’s dastardly plan to brainwash unsuspecting male porn stars into thinking that they’re in love with LA (cue intercoastal porn wars. I can actually hear Biggie and Tupac rolling over in their graves). The opening scene with Joanna, Kylee Kross, and Sabrina Sparx shows us just how much these girls want to get into their work. Then, Sabrina is supposed to go meet Sleazy Pete Swayzee at the office to make sure he gets to work on cleaning Joanna’s butt plugs, but find she can’t keep her hands of one of the boss’ favorite toys, and when Pete walks in, well, you get the idea.
Ms. Angel herself shows up to the office later on in shorter than short miniskirt platform high heels, and match halter top to bend over the desk while she’s busy typing something on the computer. Cue entrance by Mr. James Deen, and, when your office is a stylish Williamsburg loft with parquet floors and a Mac G5 on a rolling computer table in the corner, it’s easy to squeeze an equally stylish divan into the middle of the one room digs for earnest afternoon trysts.
Of course, exaphoric references to the original series, satire of noir-ish spy fare, unrepentant punning, and a general good time is had by all throughout and including the incredibly hot threesome between Joanna, Katrina Kraven, and James Deen at the end. Life in the porn industry, it seems, will never be the same.
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