I confess I had some reservations about reviewing this, the fifth in a series, when I hadn’t seen any of the previous entries. Would I be lost in the drama, or did these movies work as standalone features? I found out rather quickly that the Fuck My Mom and Me series is an anthology of shorts with little connection to one another outside the premise and the unending presence of producer/director Stoney Curtis, the semi-mythical “man behind the curtain” who interviews the female subjects before and after their love-making sessions. There is no story to speak of, so I had no problem plunging in to the depths of depravity contained in Fuck My Mom and Me 5.
Ironically, Stoney Curtis is the film’s Achilles’ heel. He destroys a truly brilliant concept with a lewd and hackneyed approach to filmmaking. If a film is going to lack a deep narrative, the least the director can do is incorporate some sort of social or psychological exploration, digging into characters and allowing us to empathize with them and their quirks, along the lines of Oh No! There’s a Negro in My Mom. Is there any relationship more complex or interesting than the mother-daughter dynamic? Imagine a film that allowed struggling mothers and daughters to cauterize old wounds and, at last, forge a lasting adult relationship via the healing power of fucking the same man.
Instead, Curtis conducts extensive interviews in which he comments exclusively on the women’s looks, forcing them to strip while he examines the similarities in buttocks or vagina. The premise of each scene is this notion that these old-timer mothers are introducing their daughters to the adult industry, which in and of itself is fascinating material to explore with a deep-probing psychological tongue. Every step these women make toward honesty and dramatic conflict is undercut by Curtis saying something like, “I notice you both have big, bubbly asses. Let me see that.”
My jaw literally dropped when episode two stars Sheila Marie and Deena Daniels began deconstructing their “mother/daughter” relationship—after Deena’s casual observation that she “fucks [her] mom’s boyfriends all the time,” Sheila grows very uncomfortable and alludes to a similar but much more disturbing situation involving herself and her own mother. This sort of pattern, and the subsequent sexual healing, would have made the short breathtaking. Curtis immediately changed the subject, trying to keep things like and amicable. This is not how drama succeeds.
In short, Curtis can populate his film with as many attractive leads as he wants and still end up with an embarrassing disaster of a motion picture. I feel bad for all involved. They undoubtedly signed on for a different kind of film, unaware of Curtis’ obvious laziness and obsession with female objectification.