Despite its complex topic, this doc is typical of the kind of glossy, Dateline-style film-making that has become standard in the past decade. There are several fascinating strands to this story--the sexual revolution, feminism, organized crime and celebrity culture--but the filmmakers spend little of the film's flimsy 90-minute running time developing any one of these themes into anything cohesive. Instead, we get a fairly rough outline of the events surrounding Deep Throat, with little commentary that we haven't heard before (the standard old players in the political sex debate--Hugh Hefner, Norman Mailer, Erica Jong--are all here in the dull, broken-record non-glory).
The best parts of the film are definitely the interviews with the creative team behind DT, a colorful group of oddballs who mostly now live rather pedestrian middle-class lives. Many of these folks are surprisingly level-headed about the hoopla surrounding their movie, viewing DT as little more than a fun little skin flick they did 30 years ago.
Linda Lovelace, who died three years ago, remains as elusive and unfocused a character by the end of this film as she is at the beginning. We're given almost no reason for her metamorphosis from fun-loving porn goddess to sanctimonious feminist crusader, nor why she just as quickly reverted to the former position in the last years of her life. Given, there's no way to speak for the dead, but the fact that the filmmaker's were given permission to interview Lovelace's daughter and family for the film without delving into this subject is a serious misstep.
Besides being woefully underlong, the film tends to uneasily shift between a completely objective, even scholarly tone, and gently satirical attitude toward the mores of the 1970's. This is partially why one is left feeling uninvolved with the salacious story. The darkest hours of the Deep Throat scandal, particularly the appalling prosecution of actor Harry Reems, often feel sugar-coated by a randy sense of visual humor and (far worse) a musical score with several tracks lifted directly from the Boogie Nights soundtrack.
My rec: read any of the serious works written about the porn industry in the past few years, and wait for this mildly amusing film to come out on DVD.
The best parts of the film are definitely the interviews with the creative team behind DT, a colorful group of oddballs who mostly now live rather pedestrian middle-class lives. Many of these folks are surprisingly level-headed about the hoopla surrounding their movie, viewing DT as little more than a fun little skin flick they did 30 years ago.
Linda Lovelace, who died three years ago, remains as elusive and unfocused a character by the end of this film as she is at the beginning. We're given almost no reason for her metamorphosis from fun-loving porn goddess to sanctimonious feminist crusader, nor why she just as quickly reverted to the former position in the last years of her life. Given, there's no way to speak for the dead, but the fact that the filmmaker's were given permission to interview Lovelace's daughter and family for the film without delving into this subject is a serious misstep.
Besides being woefully underlong, the film tends to uneasily shift between a completely objective, even scholarly tone, and gently satirical attitude toward the mores of the 1970's. This is partially why one is left feeling uninvolved with the salacious story. The darkest hours of the Deep Throat scandal, particularly the appalling prosecution of actor Harry Reems, often feel sugar-coated by a randy sense of visual humor and (far worse) a musical score with several tracks lifted directly from the Boogie Nights soundtrack.
My rec: read any of the serious works written about the porn industry in the past few years, and wait for this mildly amusing film to come out on DVD.