Dec '14 *
(Note: This review is not entirely finished. I'll be back to edit and add markups and piccies. Just wanted to churn this out to give y'all some trashy festive reading material. Enjoy!)
You better not shout. You better not cry. You better not pout and I'm telling you why: Because a Christmas porno review is cumming to Trash Epics! Put on your Santa hat, pull a few crackers, ram a candy cane up your arse, hang some mistletoe above your crotch and settle in for some seasonal cheer with extra stuffing!
The Passions of Carol is a porno version of A Christmas Carol. It does for the classic Dickens tale what The Passion of the Christ did for the Bible. Kind of. Our main character, Carol Scrooge, runs a girly porn mag. She's mean, she's stuffy and, keeping with tradition, she says "Bah humbug" quite a lot. We're introduced to her when she's berating her editor, Bob Hatchet, for incorporating too many limp dicks in the latest photoshoot. I'm on her side at this point. I mean, limp dicks are handy for pissing with, but useless for anything else. And they're certainly not worth purchasing a magazine to look at. I know how A Christmas Carol goes, and frankly, if Hatchet can't give Scrooge some hard-on, then his crippled kid deserves to starve. Luckily, Scrooge pulls through this boner famine emergency by performing cock-to-mouth resuscitation on a penis model. It was a close call.
The story plays out in the usual style. Marley arrives bound in chains, explains the redemption dealio and then Ms Scrooge throats some ghostly prick for a few minutes. I personally can't recall Alastair Sim fellating anyone, but then again my memory's rubbish. The Ghost of Christmas Past takes her back to the time when she blackmailed 2 college friends into a threesome where she's fucked with a doll's arm. The Ghost of Christmas Present shows her the Hatchet family enjoying their simple pauper pleasures. Finally, The Ghost of Christmas To Come arrives - a Grim Reaper figure who takes her on a tour of dingy porn theatres and street-walking hooker circuits, leading to the expected epiphanal twist.
In many ways, it's exactly what you'd expect a porno Christmas Carol to be. Our Scrooge here may be a stuck-up cunt, but she's certainly not very Scrooge-like with her punani. Needless to say, those looking for a faithful adaptation would be better of sticking with the 1951 version.
But for fans of the genre, this movie plays against type in some interesting ways. For starters, you have Jamie Gillis in the humble everyman Cratchit role. Even at this early stage of his career, Gillis had developed a reputation for playing rapists and sleazeballs. In '75 alone, he played debauched libertines in The Defiance of Good, The Story of Joanna, Oriental Blue and the gay S&M-themed Boy 'Napped, among others. Yet here he's the meek, loving niceguy. The coupling between him and his character's wife is among the most romantic sexual escapades of '70s porn. He's convincing enough that it almost makes me think that, deep down, beneath the sleazy exterior, he may possibly have been a big ol' teddy-bear sweetheart. Then I remember Walking Toilet Bowl and realise he's just a dirty pervert who puts on a good act.
Perhaps even more strange is that this light-hearted morality tale is written and directed by Shaun Costello. Costello has achieved infamy for roughie gems like Forced Entry, Water Power and Daughters of Discipline. So how did this slice of sweetness end up in his filmography? For me it fits because I think he's always had a wicked sense of humour. Forced Entry may be as grimy and gritty as porno comes, but I can't help thinking of it as a dark joke on the porno audience. I picture Costello laughing his ass off at the thought of the raincoat brigade storming out of the theatre with frowning faces and drooping boners, after being confronted with Vietnam War atrocity footage spliced into money shots. The Passions of Carol and its gleeful defiling of a childrens classic suits his persona.
As well as the humour, another Costello trademark out in force here is his use of music. A fine selection of Christmas carols accompanies the peen-in-beav action, but even more audacious is his unauthorised usage of Tubular Bells. Best known as the Exorcist theme tune, it works surprisingly well here. Once we're past the creepy intro and Mike Oldfield starts to get his groove on, the pounding bassline complements the pounding of pelvises quite delightfully.
Of course, some will say that this movie is revolting filth and it misses the true meaning of Christmas. They'd prefer to watch Miracle on 34th Street or It's a Wonderful Life or that one where Dudley fucking Moore dresses up in a fucking elf costume. But in order to apply a "true meaning" to Christmas, we first have to know what the hell Christmas is. Ostensibly about the birth of Christ, its origins date back centuries earlier to the pagan god of light, Mithra, who was celebrated via a week-long feast in the solstice of winter. When Mithraism was brought into Europe, Romans adopted the party tradition to hallow their own sun-god Saturn in the festival known as Saturnalia, which took part on and around December 25th. Festivities involved gift-giving and stuffing your face with food until you couldn't move. Sound familiar? Eventually, in the 4th century AD, Mithraism was eliminated politically and its worshippers eliminated physically by Christian armies.
What does this mean? It means that Christmas exists because Christianity co-opted previously existing traditions by slaughtering all those who practised it in the name of another God. It means that the true meaning of Christmas is... that there is no meaning, neither true nor false. Christmas is whatever the hell you want it to be. Most importantly, it means that this sacred celebration is entirely deserving of a good hard porno rogering.
So I say to Hell with Jesus. Bah humbug to Santa and presents. Fuck all 12 reindeer right in their stupid reindeer asses and spunk a fat jizzload of Christmas spirit all over Rudolph's shiny red nose. There's no more or less appropriate way to celebrate Christmas than by watching Christmas porn. The Passions of Carol ain't anything spectacular, but it did the trick for me.
Thanks for reading and Merry Fucking Christmas!
You better not shout. You better not cry. You better not pout and I'm telling you why: Because a Christmas porno review is cumming to Trash Epics! Put on your Santa hat, pull a few crackers, ram a candy cane up your arse, hang some mistletoe above your crotch and settle in for some seasonal cheer with extra stuffing!
The Passions of Carol is a porno version of A Christmas Carol. It does for the classic Dickens tale what The Passion of the Christ did for the Bible. Kind of. Our main character, Carol Scrooge, runs a girly porn mag. She's mean, she's stuffy and, keeping with tradition, she says "Bah humbug" quite a lot. We're introduced to her when she's berating her editor, Bob Hatchet, for incorporating too many limp dicks in the latest photoshoot. I'm on her side at this point. I mean, limp dicks are handy for pissing with, but useless for anything else. And they're certainly not worth purchasing a magazine to look at. I know how A Christmas Carol goes, and frankly, if Hatchet can't give Scrooge some hard-on, then his crippled kid deserves to starve. Luckily, Scrooge pulls through this boner famine emergency by performing cock-to-mouth resuscitation on a penis model. It was a close call.
The story plays out in the usual style. Marley arrives bound in chains, explains the redemption dealio and then Ms Scrooge throats some ghostly prick for a few minutes. I personally can't recall Alastair Sim fellating anyone, but then again my memory's rubbish. The Ghost of Christmas Past takes her back to the time when she blackmailed 2 college friends into a threesome where she's fucked with a doll's arm. The Ghost of Christmas Present shows her the Hatchet family enjoying their simple pauper pleasures. Finally, The Ghost of Christmas To Come arrives - a Grim Reaper figure who takes her on a tour of dingy porn theatres and street-walking hooker circuits, leading to the expected epiphanal twist.
In many ways, it's exactly what you'd expect a porno Christmas Carol to be. Our Scrooge here may be a stuck-up cunt, but she's certainly not very Scrooge-like with her punani. Needless to say, those looking for a faithful adaptation would be better of sticking with the 1951 version.
But for fans of the genre, this movie plays against type in some interesting ways. For starters, you have Jamie Gillis in the humble everyman Cratchit role. Even at this early stage of his career, Gillis had developed a reputation for playing rapists and sleazeballs. In '75 alone, he played debauched libertines in The Defiance of Good, The Story of Joanna, Oriental Blue and the gay S&M-themed Boy 'Napped, among others. Yet here he's the meek, loving niceguy. The coupling between him and his character's wife is among the most romantic sexual escapades of '70s porn. He's convincing enough that it almost makes me think that, deep down, beneath the sleazy exterior, he may possibly have been a big ol' teddy-bear sweetheart. Then I remember Walking Toilet Bowl and realise he's just a dirty pervert who puts on a good act.
Perhaps even more strange is that this light-hearted morality tale is written and directed by Shaun Costello. Costello has achieved infamy for roughie gems like Forced Entry, Water Power and Daughters of Discipline. So how did this slice of sweetness end up in his filmography? For me it fits because I think he's always had a wicked sense of humour. Forced Entry may be as grimy and gritty as porno comes, but I can't help thinking of it as a dark joke on the porno audience. I picture Costello laughing his ass off at the thought of the raincoat brigade storming out of the theatre with frowning faces and drooping boners, after being confronted with Vietnam War atrocity footage spliced into money shots. The Passions of Carol and its gleeful defiling of a childrens classic suits his persona.
As well as the humour, another Costello trademark out in force here is his use of music. A fine selection of Christmas carols accompanies the peen-in-beav action, but even more audacious is his unauthorised usage of Tubular Bells. Best known as the Exorcist theme tune, it works surprisingly well here. Once we're past the creepy intro and Mike Oldfield starts to get his groove on, the pounding bassline complements the pounding of pelvises quite delightfully.
Of course, some will say that this movie is revolting filth and it misses the true meaning of Christmas. They'd prefer to watch Miracle on 34th Street or It's a Wonderful Life or that one where Dudley fucking Moore dresses up in a fucking elf costume. But in order to apply a "true meaning" to Christmas, we first have to know what the hell Christmas is. Ostensibly about the birth of Christ, its origins date back centuries earlier to the pagan god of light, Mithra, who was celebrated via a week-long feast in the solstice of winter. When Mithraism was brought into Europe, Romans adopted the party tradition to hallow their own sun-god Saturn in the festival known as Saturnalia, which took part on and around December 25th. Festivities involved gift-giving and stuffing your face with food until you couldn't move. Sound familiar? Eventually, in the 4th century AD, Mithraism was eliminated politically and its worshippers eliminated physically by Christian armies.
What does this mean? It means that Christmas exists because Christianity co-opted previously existing traditions by slaughtering all those who practised it in the name of another God. It means that the true meaning of Christmas is... that there is no meaning, neither true nor false. Christmas is whatever the hell you want it to be. Most importantly, it means that this sacred celebration is entirely deserving of a good hard porno rogering.
So I say to Hell with Jesus. Bah humbug to Santa and presents. Fuck all 12 reindeer right in their stupid reindeer asses and spunk a fat jizzload of Christmas spirit all over Rudolph's shiny red nose. There's no more or less appropriate way to celebrate Christmas than by watching Christmas porn. The Passions of Carol ain't anything spectacular, but it did the trick for me.
Thanks for reading and Merry Fucking Christmas!
Fantastic review! Awesome write up!