Filthy Fuckers - Production & Contact Info (original) (raw)

Like the initial entry in the Rudeboiz series, which was reviewed here earlier this month, the studio's latest release, entitled Rudeboiz: Dirty Fuckers, displays all the paradoxical assets and liabilities of its predecessor. Shot in ...See moreLike the initial entry in the Rudeboiz series, which was reviewed here earlier this month, the studio's latest release, entitled Rudeboiz: Dirty Fuckers, displays all the paradoxical assets and liabilities of its predecessor. Shot in London with a group of scruffy models who appear to be street kids, it is (as was the first) often crude and amateurish but at the same time constantly ablaze with sexual heat. Its washed-out videography is consistently flat and colorless, but the action it captures is not. Its editing is haphazard and nonconnective but has a pulsating forward thrust. Its format never changes -- one young bloke in a drab flat welcomes a visitor (or visitors), and without a word, they surge into sexual activity. There is never any indication of how they relate to each other except sexually, but more often than not, that is enough. Director-videographer-editor Simon Booth seems to have a severely limited dramatic imagination, but he also has quite a knack for finding endlessly fascinating sex urchins. Nowhere is this more evident than in the first of the five scenes that comprise this 102-minute film. Dirty Fuckers opens on a club kid-type in baseball cap and baggy running suit (Andre O'Layton) as he lopes into one of those sad public housing projects. Like most of the other cast members, he is lean, pale and has foreskin to spare. One elevator ride later, he has greeted his equally lean, pale host (Justin Scott), taken him into his arms and shoved his tongue down the guy's throat. O'Layton wear boxers; Scott wears briefs; both manage to chew cloth for a while before releasing equally impressive erections into the air. O'Layton's acne-scarred baby face is in sharp contrast to Scott's sharper features; neither is conventionally handsome; both are intriguingly attractive. And both are equally talented sword swallowers, each taking the other's dick down to the pubes in several positions before the visitor bends his host over an ugly orange couch for a standing doggie fuck. That seems to suit Scott just fine, as does the missionary position, during which we are afforded terrific glimpses of O'Layton's Playboy bunny tattoo and his pendulous balls, which swing in perfect time to his thrusts. Scott shoots first while stuffed. O'Layton pulls out and spills his stringy arcs of spunk And that's that. In the second scene, the host (Alex Haylewood) is a scrawny brunet with a devil tattoo and one of the biggest dicks of the film; the guest (Danny Phoenix) is a perky brunet with the remains of a Mohawk cut that is growing out. True to form, he is barely inside the door before he has instigated an embrace and a flurry of kisses. Like every other performer in the film, each sports a chain necklace of sorts, and before long, that is all that either of them is wearing. Both possess cupcake buns and hefty erections. (Note that Phoenix's stays largely hooded by his foreskin, even at its full height.) For some time, they take turns sucking and kissing each other; Phoenix seems more interested in the romantic smooching, Haylewood in the nitty-gritty of cock gobbling. In time, of course, they move on to the fucking (with Phoenix always on top). Mostly, Haylewood endures his rutting, but Phoenix has himself one helluva time drilling into his host doggie, missionary and scissors style. Both deliver copious pop shots, Haylewood shooting off arrows of spooge, Phoenix a seemingly endless river of syrupy drool. The only three-way of the film is to be found in the third segment, where a crewcut cutie with a Prince Albert ([Rick Hunter]) entertains two stubbled guests (raven-haired [Steve Richards] and mousy brunet Alex Mathews). Though one of the hottest scenes of the film, it is also the most scattershot. The cyclonic action seems to have hurtled from one position to another so rapidly that the camera could not keep up with it, and as a result, the sequence ends up a series of brief but memorable images slapped together in slipshod fashion rather than a linear sex scene. All three performers are sexual whirligigs who can't seem to get enough of each other, and their most memorable moments include Hunt sucking and fingering Richards simultaneously, Mathews making love to his own oversized prick while watching the others, Richards on all fours as the other two take turns in the saddle and Hunt's bottoming for Mathews with his mouth stuffed full of Richards' erection. Finally, Richards takes a facefull of jism from the other two before popping his own modest load, ending up with more cum on his face than his belly. The guest in the fourth scene is a smooth, solid, sandy-haired blond (Christian Stone) who has the most developed physique and is the most conventionally good-looking performer in the film. Although ultimately the bottom, he drives the scene from the git-go, taking charge at once in a series of slurping kisses, but his scene-partner, a slender brunet (Mark Alexander) with a whisper of a moustache -- and more attitude than enthusiasm -- seems patently eager to get in, get off and get out. He does briefly manage to suck and finger his guest with a calculation approaching involvement, and soon they adjourn to a bed where they exchange further blow jobs before Strong flops face down to have his melon ass eaten and probed. There is little chemistry here, but Strong (who reminds one of former porn star Danny Sommers) makes a great effort to get (and keep) things going. Alexander proves to be an adequate top, though the fucking (mostly doggie style) goes on a bit too long before he splashes his load across Strong's opened lips. The coupling ends with Strong's splatter shot and his relieved grin that the ordeal is over. The final episode features a pair of brunets (tall, multitattooed Marco Martinez and short, stocky Reece Richards) who meet outside an apartment building and start their foreplay in the public hall and elevator. By the time they get into the flat, both are all revved up and speeding into the most frenetic, most unbridled, most electrifying scene of the film. They attack each other like rabid dogs in heat, kissing, groping, spanking, ripping off their clothes and shoving rigid, giant-sized hard-ons down each other's throat in alternating bouts of frenzied face-fucking. The scene simply explodes with blow-for-blow reciprocity as each tries to outdo the other in a marathon of spit-soaked, double-time cocksucking. Both are demanding, both are generous, and the results are pyrotechnical. In time, of course, Martinez heads for Richards' ass, gobbling at his unshaved hole, shoving all his fingers up it and then ripping into a crazed, multipositioned fuck in which he batters that butt with an almost compulsive series of pelvic thrusts, sudden jabs, and rough repenetrations. Throughout, Richards matches him slam for slam, reveling in his ravishing, ever ready for more. In time, he spills puddles of spunk all over his stomach, but Martinez's shots of spooge provide the film its indelible final image: A ribbon of cum slashed across Richards's sated face and gaping mouth. As this review repeatedly suggests, Rudeboiz: Dirty Fuckers is riddled with problems, but for all its inadequacies, it is one of the most consistently torrid explicit films of the year thus far. You might say it succeeds in spite of itself.See less