Title: Man's Ruin Studio: Vivid-Alt Director: Winky Tiki Cast: Melodie Gore, Justine Jolie, Mia Rose, Roxy DeVille, Satine Phoenix, Ava Rose, Celeste Star, Stoya, Lystra Genres:: Alt-porn, Bondage, Fetish, Plot, Tattooes, Toys Condoms: No Reviewer: Don Luis

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Octavio Winky Tiki is easily the most readily recognizable product of the Gen-X reliance on television as method of child rearing. And I do hope that he'll take that as a complement when he reads this. Having spent what is invariably the vast majority of his time on this planet seated in front of the rapidly shifting images on the diminutive screen, he has finally become capable of translating a lifetime's worth of imagery into none too delicate depictions of how he felt the stories should have gone. I know the I, for one, having watched uncountable numbers of kung fu movies, always wanted to know what the fighting womens' unmentionables looked like once the silk dragon printed outfits got ripped off. Enter our man to the rescue with his intrepid female hero Gogo who is absorbed through the television screen into the video game world she is playing to save the life of her beloved roomate trapped by an evil mistress at the end of the game.

According to the BTS track, the lion's share of scenes in this montage were recorded in Winki's two car garage in some particularly seedy subsection of the fine city of Los Angeles. For openers, the very Fellini-esque mad doctor scene will satsify eve the most discerning of observers. A very pliable and convincingly inert Ava Rose lays stretched out along the doctor's examining room table as Chris Chraming sharpens his straight razor under a reflector lamp. Her light olive skin creates ranges of tones once he begins the lather, then shave her exquisitely shaped legs with the antique equipment.

Adjustment wheels are turned, sections of the table rise and fall, and what we previously thought was nothing more than a cadaver begins to react once zie gut doktor begins to digitally manipulate his case study. Now flushed and plainly alive, her attending physician decides to move her along to the next stage in her therapy. Again adjusting the table, Charming proceeds to enter her, and her far advanced state of lackofcockitis clearly begins to resolve as she moans lustfully and bucks her hips. But her primary care specialist now finds himself sympathetically affected by the entire affair, and must, in some way shape or form, resolve his own issues.

After curing her, the healer seeks to heal himself withdrawing the terribly advanced instrument that worked so well on her, and using a nearby bleached white cotton towel soaked in gods know what, he cleans her feet off and begins to massage his engine with the soles of those puppies, alternately massaging himself with gloved hands. Eventually, the stimulation is too great, and he can bear no more, ensuring that he must not allow one iota of the precious life-giving fluid to waste, he selects a graduated cylinder conveniently at hand, and collects the various contents that spew forth. Once the sample collection is complete, he leaves behind the object of his affection to continue on with his very important research, reaching for beakers and bottles, mixing this with that as the camera slowly fades out on the couple.

Lovers of BlueBlood, Gothic Sluts, or Barely Evil will develop an immediate appreciation for the scene entitled "The Devil Made Me Do It", as pierced and heavily eye-shadowed Roxy DeVille expresses her pleasure in otherworldly moans throughout her fifteen minutes of fame. The money shot is captured on grainy black and white 16 mm that mirrors the antiquated horror films of the Nosferatu era.

But Winki Tinki's directorial genius erupts onto the screen in scenes like 'Destroy the Pornographer' that could have easily fit into any episode of the made for HBO series Carnivale. In a secluded, tiger skin carpeted apartment, a pony girl dressed Mia Rose prances about the open spaces, hands restrained behind her back, breasts thrust conspicuously forward as a statuesque Jay Huntington poses Atlas style in the background amidst classical Roman style columns seemingly torn from the seat of the empire itself.

Atlas peers down from his lofty perch, and spies the diminutive human woman, her flesh entices him, his imagination is fired, and he gallops into play, relieving her of what impediments might exist to their sport. As she affects a purely equine stance, allowing her Pandora's box to be opened, its depths plumbed by her Titanic suitor, a bone chilling orchestra of wheezing horns and ghastly strings and keyboards lend their mood to the proceedings. Once le jeune fille has been warmed up, however, she stands up, from where she's been bent to and forces our heavenyl support to sit astride a leather chaise, then mounts and rides him as would a prize winning jockey until, several orgasms later, and yet another soundtrack shit to a repetitive, somewhat flat calliope style sequence, who sits astride whom changes. For the grand finale, brought to a photo finish to raking, echoy, distroted guitar heavy surfabilly sounds, the scene wrapes not only on our screen, but also on the pornographer's camera.

Longtime readers of this column will recognize my penchant for fucking machines, and therefore my heartfelt appreciation for the last sex scene. However, my explanations here have run long, and you will simply have to acquire the footage to see what I'm talking about. It has become abundantly clear that Octavio and I had parallel misspent youghts watching infinite hours of B-movies on USA (especially those late night programs hosted by Gilbert Goddfrey) though, he seems to have created something lucrative with all those predictable plot items and ultra glam camera/make up tricks. We are all a product of our training, and this film proves it. Return to the fountain of your youth by picking up Man's Ruin today!