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Asian Street Hookers #46

I felt a strange sense of déjà vu after watching Asian Street Hookers #46. Its disastrous attempts to undermine and demean Asian culture reminded me of Screwing Asia, while its rock-bottom production values and sloppy direction made Fresh Outta High School 9 look like 2005’s Pirates.

Here’s how lazy the Asian Street Hookers series has become: they’ve all but abandoned the “hooker” pretense, referencing it only twice (in five scenes). We’re left with the implication that, while all the featured women, only two are opportunistic tramps, which is very different from being a “hooker.” For example: if they got all skanked up and walked up and down Melrose until a half-drunk embarrassment going through a hard divorce pulled up in his tan Volvo station wagon and slurred, “Wanna party?”—that’s a hooker. If they’re casually walking home from work, a guy stops them and starts rubbing their genitals and they say, “Wait a sec—that’ll cost you”—that’s the free market at work. These women aren’t hookers. Or maybe they are, appearing in tripe like this.

Let me move on to the production values. Okay, I’ll admit with some reluctance that the second scene has a gorgeous twilight parking lot blowjob. Well lit, with some great match cuts despite the waning sunlight, it’s about as gorgeous as I’d expect from good filmmakers, so to get it from this rag-tag bunch of yahoos is miraculous. However, the repetitive use of two single locations—the exterior of the same business park, and what is clearly office space decorated to look like the world’s ugliest bedroom—detracts from what little beauty I can find in scene two.

Despite taking the minimal effort to throw a bed (and literally just a bed) into an ugly, mint-green office, the uncredited filmmakers do nothing to redress the bed for other scenes. Worse than that, the bed is so old, the noise of the creaks became distracting and off-putting. I tried to consider what sort of comment the filmmakers could be making with their aesthetic choices, but really, I don’t think they made any aesthetic choices. “What do I need to make a porno?” I imagine the director asking himself. “A bed and a camera. I guess we can just come in one Sunday and shoot in the office at the warehouse where my dad works.”

On a more personal note, I try not to let my personal erotic preferences enter into the equation (of course, it’s easier said than done considering the subjective of the adult arts), but for those readers who have a fundamental misunderstanding of the American erotic movement, the ones who believe it exists as little more than cheap, mass-produced masturbation fodder, be warned about the first scene. The male star, James “Jimmy” Deen, has mutilated his man-rod in a disturbing, distracting way. I’ve seen him in many a film, so it surprises me that I haven’t seen this particular body modification before. He has apparently had some sort of penile branding that has caused a thick Z shape to protrude from the underside of his cockular shaft. I have not witnessed anything so terrifying since the short-lived “Splitcock” movement of the early ’00s. Also, I’d charitably describe most of the women featured in this film as unattractive.

If you’ve seen previous films in the Asian Street Hookers series, be warned that this one scrapes the bottom of the barrel and offers little more than plankton and some sort of fermented eggplant-like substance. Avoid it at all costs, or don’t say I didn’t warn you.

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