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http://www.xvideos.com/video3133272/gorgeous_jocks_make_their_own_gay_porn_movieMax complains, early and often, about Taylor always having the camera running. Max is the brown-haired one and and Taylor the blonde one. Taylor, in this case, is a boy's name. The truth of the matter, though, is that Max is in on the joke, about the camera running, I mean. You wouldn't notice this unless you were actually watching the video, and seeing as this video is a porn video surrounded by looping porn-website-ads and a fifty dozen links to more porn, you probably aren't really watching it. I mean, I don't know about you, but I don't normally focus on porn with the same energy as I do, say, a film by Yasujiro Ozu (who was gay, by the way). This video, however, I watched very seriously because I decided within its first few minutes that I would write an article about it (this article, right here, the one you're reading, wouldn't you know it) and so I watched it, all one hour and seventeen minutes, twice. More than twice in some places, to try and pick up all that Max and Taylor are saying. And sometimes watching it over to masturbate. Because that's how I found the video, there's no point being coy about it: I was looking for things to masturbate over. Because it's still just porn. More than porn, in some parts, and very bad porn in others, but in the end it's just porn. Even worse porn, ultimately, than I thought at first.
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Black screen. Is it working yet? Hold on. The fuck? The screen illuminates. On the left, in the foreground, is Taylor; you can't tell that he's blonde because he's wearing a ball cap, but it's him. On the right is Max. His brown hair is cut very short. He's shirtless. He's wearing a cheap necklace and cheap loop earrings in both ears, none of which flatter him.
In the background is a drab bedroom. Plain white walls, a high shelf lined with what looks like booze. Within the first fifteen seconds we can assume they are from somewhere Midwest, probably northern: the way Max says, Is it working
now is distinctly Fargo. They bullshit about being at the gym, about smelling, about Max's pubes hanging out of the top of his Underarmour shorts. They're like every pair of frat boys you've ever met. Except.
At 1:35 Taylor brings his face into the frame and says, This guy never ceases to amaze me. Max says, I know, I like you. Max kisses Taylor on the cheek. Taylor looks embarrassed, flattered, worried and trying to cover it: Hey, I was kissing you. No kissing me. Max makes a show of being surprised at himself. Sorry, sorry. I got excited.
That right there. That was how I knew within two minutes that I wanted to write about this movie.
Taylor makes a little heh-heh-heh laugh that sounds like George W. Bush.
Cut. Now Max, shirtless, rummages through a closet in the same room. On one side of the closet are posters for the movies
300 and
Attack of the 50 ft Woman. Notice that the first scene of the film (I can't believe I just called it a film) centers on a closet.
Max, his back to the camera, says, What are you doing back there.
Just chilling, Taylor says. Maybe watch a little TV.
Max is trying to decided what to wear. He says he's going out to eat. Taylor says he should save his money. They talk forever. Why is this interminable scene loading down the front of what is supposed to be a porno? Max strips, to change, but it's not terribly erotic. He has a nice ass, but he's not doing anything with it. Max turns, says, Oh, looks surprised. Taylor says, Oh shit. Sudden cut away. This surprise seems genuine; Max does not seem to have realized that Taylor was filming this conversation.
In the next shot, in the same room, probably just a few minutes later, Taylor is giving the stitching on the back-left pocket of Max's tacky jeans a close-up. Max turns and says, Can we just be
alone for once [unintelligible] that does not involve the camera? Taylor assures him he's not recording as he pulls the pants down to film Max's ass and gives the ass a slap. Max jumps away, laughing, calls him a creepster. Taylor pans the camera around and says, He secretly loves it when I slap his ass. Max admits its true.
The scene continues ad nauseum. Max keeps examining the fit of his clothes in a mirror behind a door. He complains how he thinks his ass is too flat. He doesn't realize its not his ass, it's those awful jeans. He says something about how, I guess it's just the metro in me. Or maybe the gay in me. He shouts at Taylor for recording. Taylor tells him he's not, he shuts the lens cap and then takes it off a few seconds later. He keeps telling Max it's not recording. They keep talking. They don't realize that casual conversation, at least their casual conversation, is inherently dull.
Then, a sudden abrupt cut, and someone is naked, squatting by a chair, bouncing on his haunches. It's Taylor, but it takes us a moment to realize that. It's also taken me ages to figure out what he's doing: I think he's trying to bounce his ass on the floor. Max says something about how, He's seen girls do it before. Taylor turns, and now he looks shocked to see Max filming him. A reversal; we now know that Max knows how to use the camera as well.
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When I first found this video it bore the title
Gorgeous Jocks Make Their Own Gay Porn Movie. It was on Manhub.com and had been uploaded by the user Chile Verde. It had received over five million hits by the time I found it and that number continued to climb ever time I watched it again.
In the comments under the video, among the typical posts like So fucking hot and They can fuck me any time they want, were more specific questions. Who are these two guys? Where can I see more? Chile Verde had put in the description of the piece,
Since we love watching gay porn so much we decided to make our own movie, but I sincerely doubt he had anything to do with making the movie. He says that he's based in Mexico, and
Yo soy como el chile verde, picante pero sabroso. Si no me entienden, es porque Google me traduce XD. He uploads videos starring all manner of men. I suspect he found the
Gorgeous Jocks footage the same way he found all his other videos -- through a downloading service, or hosted on some other site. A user has posted on his wall, asking Who is the earringed stud in the latest video? but I see no way of knowing if Chile Verde responded. He probably doesn't know.
Who are they? They exist in a washed-out world of stained eggshell walls and bad furniture. With no way of tracking down who they are they might even be dead by now. They could be trapped in this limbo, for all we know. They are not real people but 600 megabytes of code. They are whoever we want them to be. Their feelings for each other are whatever we want them to be. Like Bresson's models they unaware of what they tell us about themselves every second they are in front of (or behind) the camera.
Cut. Max films himself. He says, Is it working? Ah. It says it's recording. He waves and says, Hi, to the viewer. He tells us, coyly, that Taylor is in the shower and that he's going to scare him. On the bathroom door, facing the bedroom, is the mirror Max was posing in earlier. He stops to admire himself. We see the camera for the first time, reflected; we'll see much more of it later.
In the bathroom he holds the camera above the shower and sure enough we see Taylor showering. Max rips open the curtain and shouts and Taylor jumps and gets shampoo in his eye. This is the first time we can really make out their names, but you have to be listening for them. Max says,
Taylor is in the shower. Max, upon seeing Taylor naked, says
My name is Max and I approve of this message.
Once I figured out their names I began to feel like Nancy Drew. You can figure out anything you want if you're willing to re-watch a tape enough times.
Notice the bad lighting in the bathroom and the bedroom and the way that digital film, if used incorrectly, can look hideously splotchy and flat. It's not so much the camera's fault; David Lynch used a handheld digital camera to film most, if not all, of
Inland Empire and in that movie he pulled off some wild tricks with light and close-ups that you could never get out of 35 millimeter filmstock. Max and Taylor are not David Lynch.
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Cut. In a movie of inexplicable scenes comes probably the most inexplicable scene. The camera is filming in low-light mode, washing out all color but black shadow and a greenish gray that makes the boys' skin look ashen.
They are in the back seat of an SUV, being driven through the anonymous streets of every city you never want to return to. They are being driven by a guy whose face we only see in profile. The driver looks young from behind. He never turns to look in the backseat, where Max and Taylor, holding their fingers across their lips, pull down their shorts and start tugging each other. It's taken almost ten minutes for the first sign of sex play in this sex tape. But they're not even hard. They half-heartedly masturbate each other (Max with more energy than Taylor) while Jordin Sparks'
One Step at a Time plays over the radio. Neither gets fully hard even though the scene lasts a good five minutes. They pull their shorts up. Cut.
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The slap of a screen door, fresh morning sunlight. Max tells us that Taylor left the camera outside last night and that he, Max, just woke up and wants to see what Taylor is up to. He may be telling some of the truth: through the screen door we can see a black SUV, perhaps the same SUV in which Max and Taylor filmed the previous scene. And it definitely looks like morning, and Max's hair is cowlicked and he is blinking like a cat. He barges into Taylor's bedroom and to no one's surprise finds Taylor masturbating. But he is masturbating under a sheet. His laptop is open and seems to be playing heterosexual porn. He makes a show of being surprised.
Max pokes the camera under the sheet. Taylor is only half-erect, whereas Max looks ready to burst. At first that shot defined the movie for me: the way Max seems raring to go and Taylor appears just to be playing along. The way Max pulls back the sheet, sets up the camera, lies down next to Taylor. The way Max seems so happy just to be laying next to Taylor and the way Taylor won't take his eyes off the pussy on his laptop. That right there.
After twenty minutes we get our first real porn-like scene, but if you have ever seen two guys masturbating before then there's really not much to see here. The closest they come to interacting is playing, briefly, with one another's nipples and slapping each other on the thigh. There is some moaning (copious from Max, not so much from Taylor) and eventually orgasms. Max grabs the camera to watch Taylor cum and Taylor stares through his laptop. When Taylor cums it makes Max cum and the whole scene has become just too incredibly sad to turn me on.
Over the course of their masturbating the film's audio slips almost 17 seconds behind its video. This sort of lag is typical of large files uploaded to cheap sites but it makes the movie feel even more uncanny, or even deceptive. Now it takes just that little extra bit of brain power to keep up with who is saying what and when they're saying it. It's like a recurring dream I have in which I can never keep up with an incredibly important conversation going on around me.
Also, to no one's surprise, it's highly unlikely that Max had no idea what Taylor was up to, nor that Taylor was as surprised as he acted when Max barged into his room. I should say
their room. Plainly visible when the camera is set up on a shelf somewhere to watch them jerk off next to each other is a second bed on the right-hand edge of the frame that looks slept in and unmade. Moreover, after their orgasms, the camera pans around the room for a moment as its passed from one boy to the other and we can see the TV and closet and the booze shelf from the first scene of the movie, which may even be the shelf on which the camera had just been sitting. I'm certain that they both sleep in this room. For some reason, Max felt a need to introduce a narrative around their sex play.
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Break. Taylor is in a new room and what looks, even, like a new house. A battered, lone, king-sized bed, awful wood paneling on the walls. When the scene begins, Taylor seems to be saying, Let's go hit the fucking showers, but then we realize that this is just audio left over from the previous scene. As the camera explores this new bedroom, Taylor explains how he just got home and is going to find Max. We hear Max's voice when Taylor calls to him but Taylor doesn’t seem to know where he is. Taylor slides open a closet door and Max jumps out at him. We see the discovery before we hear Taylor's yelp of surprise.
Again, closets.
Max seems tired tonight and more impatient than we've seen him before. Why do you always have that thing, he says, referring to the camera. Taylor keeps pretending he's not filming, Max calls him a liar, that same old thing. If Max genuinely doesn't want Taylor filming him then the movie is becoming that much more uncomfortable.
They talk about a chick Taylor is talking of calling, a chick he says he
landed at the bar. Max talks about a guy at the gym who won't leave him alone and about how smooth Taylor was
landing that chick, but his heart doesn't really seem to be with us.
Taylor tells Max that he's going to help him relax. They get in a bath together. They have to wrestle with the shower doors, which seem ready to fall out of their frame at any moment. Taylor sets the camera down on what is probably a vanity so it can watch them. They talk and talk as the bath fills and it's hard to make out what they're saying over the roar of the water. We both like to play with our dicks a lot, emerges from the fog. Also: You don't know what it's like on the other side of the world.
At 38:34 Max sits down as Taylor begins to massage his shoulders from behind. We see Max look at the camera, and then he seems to lean back further so as to better align himself in the shot. Whatever he says to the contrary, Max knows that he is being filmed.
Taylor rubs Max's shoulders, his back. Max complains about this at first, but starts to ease into it. Taylor runs a hand over Max's chin and holds Max's cheek against his own. He kisses Max, open-mouthed, for thirty seconds. Massages him again, kisses him again.
Somewhere between the start of the film and now a switch seems to have occurred. Whereas Max, at the start, seemed to be the driving force behind the movie's sex (filming Taylor in the shower, filming Taylor in the car, filming Taylor under the sheets), he now seems distant and Taylor now the one driving things forward. He keeps saying how uptight Max is and how he needs to unwind. That insistent massage, those insistent kisses. When Max turns in the bath so that they can face each other Taylor says, We should just relax, like we do on camera, just jerk it together. Max says, I don't see anything wrong with that. What?
Taylor reaches over and adjusts a laptop we did not realize was on the toilet, out of the frame. The way the boys are talking it sounds like the laptop is playing porn. He says, I really like our group, private shows together. I definitely feel the most comfortable with you.
Max says, No, I agree. Max sits up on the back rim of the tub so the camera can better see the way his pecs ripple as he jerks himself. He stares directly into the lens.
Anyone who has ever had anonymous sex with an unconfident person will recognize the breathy, clumsy way Max tries to nonchalantly mention how he's never gotten head underwater as a means of asking for something without seeming to ask for it or as a way to move a sexual fantasy along. It's bad acting or bad writing or both.
Taylor can talk about landing chicks at the bar, about I kiss you, no kissing me, about whatever else. He can say, I guess since I've gotten head underwater I can just pay it forward and pretend like it's some sort of obligation. But the way he goes for Max's shoulders, Max's lips, Max's cock: it's obvious that he loves them both in a way that no one on the lower end of the Kinsey scale would ever love them. He's not fooling anybody.
Quite to the surprise of my skeptic's eye, minutes 47:00 to 52:00 are achingly hot.
They leave the bathroom and head for the living room. Max grabs the laptop and Taylor grabs the camera. Neither of them brought that laptop when they entered the bathroom earlier, meaning someone brought it in in preparation for this scene, meaning that what was meant to seem spontaneous and intimate was not spontaneous at all.
And yet, as they step out of the bathtub, Taylor holds Max's hand.
In the large living room (awful plaid furniture) the oral sex continues. Max reveals himself to be terrible at sucking dick and Taylor continues to attack it with gusto. So much gusto that Max asks him, "Where did you learn how to do that?" They trade blowjobs for a good ten minutes, at one point exchange lap dances, but again they go no further. At 68:52 Max's eye comes right up to the camera, almost exactly like Laura Palmer in the pilot episode of
Twin Peaks. Finally they cum again. The image freezes over Max's semen-spattered chest and a snicker on his face that appears more sinister the longer you stare at it. Seventeen seconds later, the audio catches up. They both talk about how amazing and hot that was. Taylor moans, Oh Max. Max says, You're dirty.
But right there, earlier, did you catch it? After getting out of the bath, when the two first come into the living room, Max tells Taylor, I think you should record. Taylor acts surprised. Oh really? Why? Max says, Because I have this other camera over here. He leads Taylor to another, larger camera which was at first out of view on the other side of an easy chair. Taylor says, You tricky bastard. He films the camera. Taylor mentions, in the same fake-fake way that Max mentioned never getting head underwater, how he's always Wanted to make sort of a home movie.
It's right there, at 54:13. All previous theories as to the nature of this movie must now be reconsidered.
Perspective suddenly cuts to the new camera. It records Taylor as he records it recording him. I had first though that this video must have been uploaded long after its filming. I had assumed, with no evidence, that the footage is merely all that remained after the handheld camera's memory was filled to capacity. This would explain why so much of its conversation, like so much conversation in analog life, goes on for so damn long. It would explain the incredibly bad scene in the back of the SUV. It would explain why the first decent sex of this alleged sex-film doesn't arrive until near the 45 minute mark. Without context or a credible internal narrative, the viewer is free to assume whatever they want about the video, and in this viewer's case I assumed that it must have been at least partially accidental. Maybe it had been uploaded by Max or Taylor some time after they had filmed it, or by some unknown third party, but in any case, no one had ever taken the time to trim or organize or streamline or otherwise make it into a functioning porn movie.
Until the camera cut. When perspective is shifted to the second camera while watching Taylor still holding the first, we realize that this video has been
wholly or partially edited.![]()
Two weeks after I decided to write about
Gorgeous Jocks Make Their Own Gay Porn Movie it was taken down from Manhub. Considering how old it appeared to be, and how low is production values were, I couldn't think of a good reason for it to be removed. I wondered if maybe it had become too much of a burden on Manhub's servers or something; the last I checked, it had received over twelve million hits. (Though this doesn't really make sense: why would a website remove something that was pulling in so much traffic?)
On porn sites like Manhub, which depends on uploads from its users for almost all of its content, videos are pulled down constantly when the copyright-holders of the videos (typically professional studios) find that their content has been placed on the site without their permission. Porn today is nothing but a series of Digital Millennium Copyright Act notices. But who would send a DMCA to Manhub over such a grainy, uncomfortable, amateurish video?
The video's removal was only a minor setback because I had already downloaded a copy for myself. While I planned from early on for this article to function even if its readers never saw one second of the movie, I also wanted them to have the opportunity to scrub through a few minutes of the thing if they wanted to. So I decided that I would need to upload it somewhere new.
My plan was to anonymously deposit the movie somewhere without any description and let it find a new audience for itself. I hoped that it could continue to baffle perceptive viewers, viewers who would in turn download and upload it and link to it themselves, for years to come, like the tape in
The Ring.
But after I spent two hours waiting for all 600 megabytes of
Gorgeous Jocks to crawl up my wires onto xvideos.com, my page refreshed and I was told that the upload had been denied because the video already existed on the site. Sure enough, there it was, under the same title and everything. This new version was no better or worse in quality than the footage I had found for myself on Manhub.com. It had 15 user comments. Some people just said that it was a sexy, a few wanted to know who the boys were, and someone said,
they are on fratpad website.
My weird private gem was not so private after all. After one Googling I learned that on message boards and blogs and comment threads everywhere it was an infamous little tape. There were links to it everywhere under dozens of names. There was ample discussion of whether Max or Taylor were straight or bi. There was more footage of Max and Taylor. As xvideos user Lexibellebaby said, they are from the gay porn site Fratpad.com.
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p.s. Hey. Major coup this weekend on the blog as writer and d.l. supreme Cobaltfram offers us this sterling and beautiful concoction that will do all the work needed for itself as soon as you crease its beginning. So, I'll stay mum other than offering him my most heartfelt thank you. Please enjoy, and please talk to him, yes? Thanks a lot! ** Bill, Hey, firsty. I thought that about the Reagan reference too. And it worked like a charm, on me and, well, on you, at least. Okay, great about the filming, and I'll be patient. Sad you can't see/hear the trad. Korean music while there. Just too busy and time-limited? ** Scunnard, Thanks re: the debit card. It's hell, let me tell you. I was just told not five minutes ago that to get the new card to me here in Paris before I leave for Japan will cost me $685. I mean, holy shit, and I'm trying to figure out what to do right now, Jesus, so please excuse any stress/static backing up these sentences and/or their emotional moorings. Somehow a roofer liking Pearl Jam enough to sing along makes utter sense, and I do and I guess don't know why that is. ** Thomas Moronic, Wow, thank you a zillion for that gorgeous response to and repartee with the slaves. You should do a slave response chapbook. Wonderful, beautiful, and such a boon, pal. Yeah, the reference finessing is tricky but a lot of fun too. It's the meaning and music of the language in the reference itself that I try to work with. And whatever kneejerk or subtle implications their chosen names have. Etc. Cheers back to you, buddy boy. ** Statictick, Ah, you like your fucks po-faced, do you, ha ha? Love again and again to you, N. ** Cobaltfram, Hi, man/maestro of the 48 plus hours! Thank you again so very much for enriching this place. Yeah, I think a US tour of 'The Pyre' is being figured out, but I don't know how far and wide it'll be. I'll let you know. My life is usually like your life, but I've gotten this wild reprieve from sitting around lately, very lucky me. Austin seems like an excellent choice to me, yeah. Okay, I hope you enjoy the weekend both around here and everywhere else. ** Tosh Berman, Thanks re: 'The Pyre', man. No, Bank of America completely and utterly suck, or so I think at the moment, and they've been totally unhelpful and asshole-ish about the card thing in every respect. But whatever, right? Great weekend to you, sir. ** David Ehrenstein, Hi, D. I like Hollis Frampton. You don't like Hollis Frampton? That's an interesting comparison, though: he and Greenaway. Hunh. Interesting. ** Gary gray, Hi, Gary. Yeah, totally understood about the availability thing. Definitely. Oh, I see, about the first issue. It sounds to be fantastic, by the way, no surprise. Very cool. Very excited to see it! 'I just prefer the drugs where the infinite can exist within a second of real time': wonderful. ** Steevee, Hi. Right, I had a feeling that The Dissolve might be sort of locked down from the outset, but there's surely a way in, and essays/think pieces by you for them would be great. Fingers crossed far in advance. ** Sypha, Damn, I should have put the nose slave lower in the post. Oh, well, you can go back to imagining them as cozy angels. Yeah, Huysmans' descriptions are crazy great. I'm gonna get that book. Pre-trip if I have the time. Sure, having someone or someones awaiting one's writing seems to make a big difference to me too, or even pretending that someone out there is jonesing for it. ** _Black_Acrylic, Hi, Ben! Oh, man, I'm so sorry that we didn't get to meet up. Between your and Misanthrope's communications impairment over here, it just seemed to get too complex or faint or something. But, yeah, next time or soon and somewhere, for sure. Thank you so much for saying that about 'The Pyre'! I'm so happy to hear that, and I'm obviously so glad that you like the book/text part. As could have been predicted, there are those who don't like that part or think it's unnecessary or something. I think that was always the danger: that people would have a hard time accepting a book as an act of a theater piece. But that's part of why we wanted to make that challenge to the audience. Anyway, thank you again so much. Tonight's the last night of the premiere run, so we'll see if we make it through without the tossing of tomatoes and the like. I'm going down early today to see the Mike Kelley show. Lowish expectations, but, like you said, seeing 'The Poetics' and 'Heidi' stuff should offer plenty of reasons to be happy. Sorry about all the rain here. I agree with you re: 'Dynamo'. My favorite piece was the Carsten Holler too. Yeah, it was great just to know that you were here and were there somewhere in the same theater that I was. Take good care, buddy. ** Graham Russell, Hey, greetings, welcome, and really nice to see you! You got the 'Erotica' thing, cool. I was wondering if anyone would. Good eye. How are you? ** Flit, Hi, Flit. Nice way to put it re: 'The Pyre's' birth and new existence, and, yes, it's cool and a weirdo of an experience. You're playing with wordage? Excellent. You just proved your mastery in that 'Pyre' metaphoric thing, and, well, throughout your missive, actually, so much encouragement from me. Me? Uh, I'm mostly stressed to shit by the debit card thing at the moment and by the pre-trip errands I need to do and by the impairment of my errands by the lack of card aka money, but, otherwise, I mean I'm going to Japan in four days, so I'm great in general. You sound real good. ** Nemo, Gilles de Rais has ruins? Cool. Uh, early December, check with me about that in the next while. There's a bunch of stuff happening re: travel in the near future, and I haven't sorted out when it'll need to happen yet. That could work, but I'm living semi-up in the air at the moment But, yeah, could be swell. Love from me, and have an excellent weekend, and big hey to Jarrod. ** Grant Scicluna, Dogsfood is an interesting choice. Cool. I think I kind of see Greenaway as a visual artist working with motion, etc. too. And I believe he sees himself that way as well, if memory serves. I like Nyman a lot too. Or most of his stuff. That's crazy news about Greenaway remaking 'Death in Venice'. Wow. I kind of love that idea for some reason. Hunh. Hm. Todd's a pip of a fellow, and hopefully he'll dig what you want to do. Really good chance of that. All right, great weekend to you, Grant. ** And, with that, I turn you over to Cobaltfram, and I will see you back here on Monday, of course.
