Juice is a wild, wonderful ride from the first sleazy second to the last, cum-drenched frame. Director Arthur Bressan, Jr. is more concerned with mood than plot and it pays off in brilliantly sexy vignettes that are connected through beautifully shot scenes of New York City and climax in a dizzying montage of man-flesh. This film starts out like a tease, with a handful of solo sequences and furtive blowjobs, but when Juice kicks into gear, watch out: it's one hell of a blue movie experience.
The fabulously ridiculous theme-song, featuring a male chorus gleefully chanting "Juice, it's a wild sensation! Juice, it's an inspiration!", sets an ecstatic tone as the credits roll. The excitement continues as the camera sneaks into hunk Michael Christopher's bedroom (he is STUNNN-NANG!!) just in time to catch him getting a hand job from an unseen bed mate. The doorbell rings just as Christopher pushes his big beef into his pal's ass. Damn. He gets a note from his editor at Juice, the dirty magazine for which he is the head photographer.
Big boss Eric Ryan is unhappy with his work and wants some quality smut within forty-eight hours or his career at the magazine is over. So Christopher goes on a mission to gather potential models, but not before he takes a trip into his darkroom for a little jerk-off session with some shots he took earlier of a blonde jogger, Vincent Thomas.
After he shoots the skuzz, he calls two friends to arrange a photo shoot. He catches them in mid-sixty-nine. Luckily, these two muscle queens return later in the film and go full force anal; for now, though, their scene is cut short. Christopher argues with his editor and is told to cruise the peepshows and dirty bookstores for potential models. What he finds in the back rooms is a stud in aviator glasses who just wants to smoke Christopher's thick, sweet sausage.
Finally he encounters a Latino in a video arcade who follows him home and models his uncut hanger in front of an American flag. He gives Christopher a deep throat hummer (which is strange because you'd think he'd be the one to get paid).
From here on in Juice becomes a frenzy of inter cut scenes that build and build until every single man spills generous slime. Christopher fantasizes about love, the jogger, and hooks up with a wiry brunette, Eric Ryan and his office assistant do it doggie while watching a dirty movie, Christopher gets wild with two men, and the muscle queens reappear to finish what they started some twenty minutes before.
Christopher returns to work, shooting the muscle queens and then paying them with dick, and finishes his whirlwind tour-de-flesh with the blond jogger Vincent Thomas. It's rare to see this much sex, not to mention
great sex, in one single film. Juice ice an extraordinary vintage gay porn classic, so do the right thing and suck down some Juice as soon as you can.
"Two metaphors come to mind in describing Juice. One: It is like a fugue, with one theme, character, or sequence giving way to another, returning, blending, contrasting, functioning contrapuntally against each other. Two: It is like shimmering pieces of glass, a series of vivid sexual images shattering across the screen, not in loop-like sex scenes that have a through line from beginning to end, but in fragments that tantalize, titillate, vanish, and reappear, until all of them are brought together in one remarkable series of orgasms that give the film's title more than one meaning. There has probably never been a more prolonged series of money shots in adult film history."-- Manshots
Year: 1984
Cast: Eric Ryan; Michael Christopher; Vincent Thomas; Robert Vega; Jeff Stone; Butch La Cross; Francesco Lorca; Jeremy Scott; Andrew Dupree
Length: 72
Studio: Mark V Marketing; \
Bijou Director: Arthur Bressan, Jr.
Read more about the film (or grab a copy) at Bijou Video.
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