After this depraved rollercoaster ride, Judge David Johnson needs 50 CCs of VeggieTales—stat!
You know what saying is overused? "Just when I though I saw everything, [BLANK]." That BLANK could be filled in with "I watched two monkeys throwing root beer at a sheep" or "the other day I caught my grandfather tap-dancing in spandex" or "the moon cracked open and a robot pigeon flew out, speaking French." For me, it goes like this: "Just when I though I saw everything, I saw Acting Out."
Facts of the Case
It's 1978 and these two guys named Carl Gurvich and Ralph Rosenbaum come up with the bright idea of making a documentary about regular people's sexual fantasies. They gather an eclectic mix of bodily fluid daredevils on a picturesque manor, hire some actors, and turn their cameras on. Whatever the fantasy, the film crew is there to provide the folks with the resources to get it done.
We're just talking threesomes, right? Isn't that the universal fantasy? Please. Acting Out takes your "threesome," urinates on it, covers it in fecal matter, dresses it up like a circus dwarf, straps it to rocking chair, and rolls it down a plastic slide covered in molasses. No, what these people drum up exceeds anything Cinemax could throw on at 1 a.m.
For nearly 90 minutes, you'll be subjected to a plethora of fantasies, ranging from straightforward (making love to one's psychology professor) to "what the @#$%?!!!" The filmmakers lay over some narration to give this "sex-umentary" a flavor of empirical professionalism, and each partaker in the fantasy talks a little about why he or she is doing this.
So grab the kids, get some snacks, and snuggle in for a nice night of wholesome entertainment. Just be sure to pop the popcorn with Crisco oil. That joke will make sense by the end of this review. And you'll hate me for saying it.
Hoo-boy, this one is a doozy. Troma has certainly outdone itself with this release. Where they found this film, I have no clue, but I'm willing to bet they had to make it past a padlock and a Doberman to get it. This "documentary" is unadulterated '70s sex trash, and the attempts to make it less-exploitative by the filmmakers are a joke. They try to use a pile of human anthropology-speak at the end of the film to relay how these fantasies, no matter how stupid and depraved, were manifestations of being human and so on and so forth. Yeah, right. There's about as much interest in deciphering the human condition in this film as there is in a Lysol commercial. It ain't deep. What it is, though, is insane.
Here now is a sampling of the fantasies that await you in Acting Out, complete with a brief description and a "nausea" rating:
• Horny Old Guy
• Barbara Jo
• Ugliest Transvestite Ever
• Pilgrim Boy
• John and Karen
• Greg, the Crisco Kid
• The Man in the Mirror
I've got nothing else to say. This flick is just off-the-charts whacked. You want erotic? You'll be more titillated doing a self-examination for testicular cancer. Give this a spin only if you're brave or bored. (Bonus points, though, for being the first film I've ever seen with the line "pleasant and aimless orgy.") Extras include interview footage with the Internet's Mr. Skin, the proprietor of a leading celeb nude site, some bonus lesbian hijinks, and a helping of Troma trailers.
A whole lot more visuals swirling around in the subconscious that need to be purged now. Thanks, Troma.
Guilty of…whatever. Just guilty, dammit.
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