Isabella Rossellini wrote (or co-wrote), co-produced, directed (or co-directed), and stars in these cheeky mini-films describing the sex lives of eight garden variety insects. "There's nothing porno about it," Rossellini says in the promotional introduction, "It's just fun!" And so it is, with Isabella donning foam, rubber, and latex costumes to become the bug-of-the-moment (usually, she's in the guise of the male insect, as they are seemingly always the sexual instigators). The eight shorts together total about fifteen minutes of screen-time--too brief, actually, to delve into the questions we end up having which arise from the mind-boggling situations on display. The segment on Bees (which has a perverted bent worthy of David Lynch) tells us the fertilized but sterile female bees born from the Queen do all the hard work, while the male Drones wait around to mate (they fight each other for the available female, only to get their bee-penis stuck in their partner like a cork in a bottle). The snail turns out be a sexual sadomasochist who later curls up in his shell with his anus up against his head (why didn't they teach us these things in school?). The Praying Mantis male has it the worst however, and this is where Rossellini's apparently morbid sense of humor takes hold; she delights in the insect carnage, and her beautifully precise diction carefully highlights the shock words for their utmost effect. Although each episode is colorfully designed and informative--and our hostess is a stitch in every one--some of the segments are too short to really do justice to the subject (particularly the Dragon Fly and the Firefly, which clock in at less than two minutes a piece). Rossellini's genuine interest is so infectious, one is alternately tickled, amusingly disgusted, enlightened, but left wanting more.
Review of Green Porno
