Now we get that scripts, wardrobe, and grand locations were the first things to go as the industry began to get squeezed by the crashing economy (closely followed by real food on sets, not that we’re bitter or anything). We understand that the gonzo companies soared because they never really used any of those things anyway, food included. We will admit to understanding the fantasy of a geeky guy meeting two nubile, sex-crazed, ladies who suddenly can think of nothing better than throwing him down and having their way with him. Fine.
We don’t really watch a Hollywood action adventure and think, “Hey! I should jump off the top of this high-rise building holding on to this rope and then swing feet-first through a plate glass window in order to avoid going back down the stairs. Because that’s gonna work out well.” Obviously the adult movie industry does not have a lock on the suspension of disbelief requirement. That said, we certainly can hang right in there when it comes to the accept the absurdity factor.
So we’re not even particularly dismayed when it comes to the set in general here. We know lots of women that still have a dominance of pink in their bedrooms, and women in their 50’s that still display stuffed animals in this private space. … But what strange thing happened in this producer’s past that set up this scenario? Psychiatrists tell us that some people like boobs because of their mother’s embrace. Others like feet because maybe mom left them on the floor next to hers more often than not. No problem. At the Risque Commune, we get it. Still…
What’s up with the tube socks?
