Forbidden pleasures Before becoming the producer of five films of the cult filmmaker Jesse Franco in a short time period from 1997 to 1999, the American publisher and part-time screenwriter and just an avid cinephile Hugh Gallagher, and to this day is a person unknown in the underground, tried himself in the field of film directing, in 1990 debuting the first part of his so-called “gore trilogy” called “Gorgasm”, continued later by “Gorotika” and “Bloody whore”. In fact, the very name of the full-length debut of Gallagher directly indicates the nutritional stuffing that will be present in the film: violence + sex, eros + thanatos; the notorious components of any little censored tape made in horror aesthetics. Preferably too straightforward, without halftones, with a lot of shaming and undercover nihilism - as Roger Corman bequeathed. However, artisanal artisanality, which is burning on all sides, hardly allows us to attribute Gorgasm not only to horror, but also to cinema as such; this is not a case when it is so bad that it is already good. The same Jess Franco, even in his worst years (and this seems to have lasted for decades for the venerable Methuselah of all European microbudget cinema) was able to correctly build a plot, indulge in light filters, while in the frame they pamper his ever-naked muse Lina Romay with torture and sexual instruments, or pump into absurdity his creations with cheerful deviations. Trying to intercept the baton from Signor Hugh Gallagher was only sick with the idea of fixing his film, but his ambitious desires did not coincide with the possibilities, and the debut "Gorgasm" although it seems head overhead above all Schnaasov's lawlessness and mountain three-penny operas of Todd Shits, but definitely successful this movie can not be called.
"Gorgasm" - this (arche) typical budget-free film forgery, which told the ingenious story of a colorful prostitute who literally carried the brains of her masochistic clients, but once ran into a stubborn cop - seems frankly insignificant even by the modest standards of operational cinema. From such a simple plot, in principle, you can create something acceptable without constantly fixating on eroticism, then on bloody murders (that the first, that the second does not look realistic), but Gallagher did not wisely decide that there is nothing reprehensible in combining light sadomaso-porn and bloody horror, and the detective line in the plot was sewn only so that the action would not focus on how busty Gabriela first excites someone, and then kills. In the end, porn treshes by the time of the release of "Gorgasm" in the same States has already been removed a lot, and hands to them put and Gerard Damiano, and Ed Wood, and Michelle Rico, but in the case of Gallagher's painting that erotic, that the next meat seems rather stale. The plot does not want to develop, the intrigue is left somewhere overboard, and admire the sweaty buns of the failed porn diva Gabriela, who only plays them in the frame, gets bored already in the first half hour. The attempt to reduce everything to the massacre a la Herschel Gordon Lewis also turns into a spherical vacuum, for the unnatural process of ultraviolence (classical gore implies a certain degree of vital realism and nausea) turns Gorgasm into a total clown. A gift that the director conveys to the viewer the main idea of his picture about the inevitable retribution for the search for all forbidden pleasures is too intrusive. Morality is moral, but in "Gorgasm" it looks frankly ridiculous. As a kind of attempt to bring elementary logic and even vitality to this amateur horror theater, but what would more or less look like in Nathan Schiff, in Gorgasm is completely alien. But we all have time to finish.