It's not a porn movie, declares the box that holds Hustler White, a mid-90s look at the gay prostitute scene in LA. True enough, although some of the acting's not much better.What is better is that there's the ring of truth beneath the silly plot and stilted dialogue. These hold together numerous scenes that are nothing like what you've seen before. But you'll enjoy it more if you can keep from distancing yourself, so try.You may have no problem, or you may run screaming from scenes that include duct-taping, train-pulling, and, um, stumping. Your loss if you do.

This is a good bit of avant-garde porn, with a purposefully ridiculous story with great drag sensibility. The main character's name is enough to make me giggle, and even though the sex is sometimes car crash, I shouldn't be watching this weird, it's still a turn-on. Please ignore viewer's comment who just doesn't get it. It's porn for the hopelessly snide and above-it-all crowd, but lets us laugh at ourselves and admit we like trashy sex as much as we look down our noses at it.For the simple-minded: It's SUPPOSED to be badly filmed and badly acted. That's what them there Hollywood types call satire.I will plug the Zeitgeist theatre in New Orleans where I saw this, since I have to pad this out to submit it.

I wanted to dislike this more than I did, but against my will, after a while I began to sort of like it. It's still bad, but it's not offensive the way it seems like it will be from the opening. For a movie about hustling, with a few real-life gay porn stars thrown in for good measure, it isn't really smutty or gross -- it's having far too much fun with its own genre-hopping and movie-referencing for that. At the beginning it feels like it's going to be a lot more pornographic than it is -- that it so say, disgusting as opposed to sexy; however, there are a few sexy scenes -- there's a boots and leather porn shoot that's pretty erotic, as is the scene where a row of black men take turns with a blond muscle boy (and there are a lot of hustlers in short shorts, if that's your thing). There's a briefly touched-upon theme with a skinhead who wants to kiss, the notion of closeness vs. sex and if the two are compatible, that could have been elaborated on to give the film some weight, but it's not dealt with effectively; it's mainly there as a stupid joke. Most of the jokes are stupid, especially the recurring "Anger...any relation to Kenneth?" bit. (I love the movie's tagline, though.) The editing is a particular flaw -- it's in your face and has no rhythm, and it makes the film seem more cheap than the subject matter already suggests. That cheapness may be part of LaBruce's intention (the amateurish acting would seem to say so), but it's still childish regardless -- a scene where someone repeatedly runs over a guy with his car is flat and unfunny. There's narration where Castro is talking to us, and it's completely phony-sounding -- the movie is fake everything. Again, I think that must be the point. (The film's overall reason for existence seems geared toward a scene where LaBruce gets to suck face with a hustler.) The best scene in the movie is that with Castro and a baby in the bathtub, a scene that is essentially a rip-off (or homage) to "Flesh." 6/10

In HW, the always-entertaining Bruce la Bruce has produced his most appealing film to date by far. Model and former Madonna boy-toy Tony Ward is sweet and funny as Monty, the object of ice-queen film-maker Jurgen Anger's (played by la Bruce) instant love. The graphic, fetishistic sexual encounters of Santa Monica Boulevard hustlers and their johns are merely clever sidebars to the main story of Monty and Jurgen's collaboration and romance. HW is far too bizarre for mainstream moviegoers; a pity, as its themes are universal and their exposition right on target.