"Wrong Side of the Tracks" is superb, director Chi Chi LaRue's best of 2005. The kudos go to LaRue and a splendid cast and crew, headlined by Johnny Hazzard, an incredible presence, and an wonderfully handsome man who is at once macho and pretty. The production values are polished with clever flourishes throughout that tie the scenes and such together in a slick and well-thought-out manner. This is a James Dean-like tale (just think of Johnny as the misunderstood small-town youth in "Rebel Without a Cause"). But Johnny is unabashedly gay, and serves up melodrama, butthole and erections in equal measure.
Poor Johnny. Not only does he live on the wrong side of the tracks, he also lives in a trailer park NEAR the tracks. Listening to clickety-clack roar of trains rumbling by has to be a real drag. Luckily Shane Rollins is his boyfriend. The sexpots get it on in a boiler room. They kiss and grope, then Johnny rims Shane's outrageous booty before twisting the big guy around to swallow is also-outrageous dong. Shane sucks and rims Johnny and then they flip-flop, Johnny fucking Shane standing and Johnny taking a pounding on his back. After they toss their loads, they discuss their happily-ever-after plans (a one-way ticket out of the godforsaken trailer park). Shane gets cold feet and decides to take a job with his uncle at a nearby junk yard. Disgusted, Johnny heads home only to be confronted by Jase Banyon, his sexually-abusive step-father ... for the last time (Johnny refuses to suck daddy's dick and bolts).
As he's shuffling off to Buffalo (or wherever it is he's shuffling off to) he comes across a gaggle of hotties -- Benjamin Bradley, Jan Fischer and Kevin Brown -- feeding a blindfolded Pete Ross lotsa hard dick. Blondie Pete is a natural deep-throater, and he handles sucking down the various cocks with aplomb. Benjamin and Kevin then take turns fucking Pete and Jan, and at the end, a prone Pete is drenched with cum from above. Johnny bids farewell to his buddies and hits the road in earnest this time.
Johnny hitches a ride from Tyler Riggz, a giant man with a giant cock. He falls asleep as they ride and is suddenly traumatized by horrific flashbacks of the awful life he's left behind during a nightmare (he sees, in his mind's eye, images of his abusive step-father force-feeding him cock, drowning in a pool, wearing a straightjacket, etc.). He wakes up, disoriented, and Tyler suggests that they repair to the back of the truck to get some sleep. They don't sleep, of course -- they fuck. Tyler is about twice the size of Johnny, and the contrast is hot as hell. The big man caresses Johnny as he seduces him, and then he releases his big prick from his jeans and Johnny takes it all the way down his throat. Johnny then rims Tyler's asshole as he alternates sucking the huge cock. Tyler sucks Johnny's pretty pecker too, and then fucks Johnny in a variety of positions, sweating up a storm. The sight of Johnny's small ass being invaded by Tyler's huge cock from behind is breathtaking (not to mention dick-hardening). Tyler fucks the cum out of Johnny and then dumps his load on Johnny's chinny, chin, chin.
Johnny checks into a seedy motel. The guy next door, Jacob Slader, is having a noisy hook-up with compact baldie Joey Jay, a street hustler. Joey sucks Jacob a good long time, Jacob rims and sucks Joey and they pop their loads.
Johnny meets a hooker with a heart of gold, Marcus Irons, while hanging out near a used car lot. Marcus takes Johnny under his wing (keeping a sassy Miss Bradley, a tranny hooker, at bay in the process). They flag down a john in a green sedan, Tommy Ritter, and offer him a two-fer: Marcus and Johnny for the price of one. Tommy agrees to the deal and they consummate the transaction in a dark alley. Tommy looks great here (and his dick is enormous), Marcus blows him first, showing newbie Johnny how it's done, then Tommy and Marcus inhale Johnny's dong, twist him around and lick his hole, and then Marcus is fucked by Tommy and then Johnny fucks Tommy. Part One ends with Johnny picking up a mysterious john and then a bang occurs (but not of the sexual variety).
Right up front, it must be said that Chi Chi LaRue's latest for Rascal Video and Channel 1 Releasing, entitled Wrong Side of the Tracks, is the most fully realized film this prolific director has yet made and may well be the masterpiece by which he will be most remembered for generations to come. An epic two-parter (the first disc of which runs just under three hours, the second just under two-and-a-half), Wrong Side, Part One simply teems with the sizzling sexplay that LaRue is so gifted at creating -- but more than that, it reveals an unprecedented attention to detail in the creation of a dramatic narrative and believable characters that both prompt and enrich the consistently torrid explicit action.
Part One features Johnny Hazzard as a poor-white-trash kid trying to escape the dead-end existence of his life in a "junkyard" town where his future is as bleak as his day-to-day existence. Of the five sex scenes that comprise Part One, he appears in four of them. The role (as written in the picaresque screenplay by LaRue and Doug Jeffries) is surprisingly complex and nuanced for an adult film, and Hazzard rises to the occasion (in more ways than one) to give the performance of his career.
He is first seen wandering through the ramshackle world in which he lives, garbed in work boots, tight jeans and a dirty Athletic shirt. (Throughout the film, the camera never strays far from his protean countenance, his compact physique, his myriad tattoos, his ever-functional erection or his beauteous bubble butt.) He heads for an abandoned factory (a hauntingly ugly location that sets the tone for the entire film), where he connects with his best friend/fuck buddy (skinhead Shane Rollins) to luxuriate in the only respite from his sad life that is available to him. Their frantic, hungry sex play is at once energetically manic and sadly desperate as they suck kisses out of each other, grind together, trade spit-soaked blow jobs, bury their tongues in one another's ass and repeatedly swallow whole each other's hefty erection. Hazzard is the first to top, nailing Rollins in a standing doggie-fuck against a rusty steam pipe; then Rollins tops Hazzard missionary on the filthy floor. They have barely delivered their equally messy money shots before Hazzard is asking, "So, are we going to go tonight?" Rollins has reservations about leaving the only world he knows, but Hazzard is determined to flee -- with or without his buddy.
Back at a trailer where Hazzard lives with his boor of a stepfather (Jase Banyon) who treats him as nothing more than a domestic servant and sex slave, they fight over the kid's refusal to service the old man, and the face-off proves to be the final straw. Within moments, Hazzard is on his way. As he heads out of town, he passes another abandoned factory and stops to say his goodbyes to the local pack of blue-collar punks (Jan Fischer, Benjamin Bradley and Kevin Brown) who are busily initiating a newcomer (Pete Ross) into their gang. Blond Ross, as their sexual plaything, fuels the scene with his desperate promises to "do anything" to belong and his shameless willingness to service one and all in a series of frenetic blow jobs and rim jobs. Fischer, Bradley and Brown are all handsome specimens with relentlessly airborne erections, and all revel in taking advantage of their novitiate sex slave, passing him back and forth as if he were nothing more than an inflatable doll. In time, both Fischer and Bradley get in their fair share of sucking (Brown does not), and Hazzard finally joins in for one last farewell fuck. Most (but not all) of the scene's anal action is given to Bradley topping Ross, and both acquit themselves superbly. The money shots are all equally sensational, though Bradley's and Fischer's arcs of spooge are most memorable. This is one of the highlights of the film.
And so Hazzard begins his journey to God knows where, walking the tracks, bathing under a bridge and hitching rides, but all along the way, he is bedeviled by nightmares of his wretched past and his uncertain future. He awakens from one in a truck driven by muscle-bound Tyler Riggs, who has given him a lift and now wants payment for the ride. With wry resignation, Hazzard submits. In the back of the cab, on a dirty mattress, his perfunctory responses begin to be fueled by his gonads. He gets into it, and in time, both men are glistening with the sweat of passion. In quick succession, he services the trucker's cock, balls and asshole. (The ass-eating is particularly hot.) A no-nonsense top, Riggs is quick to shove his thick dick down Hazzard's throat and repeatedly face-fuck him. But before the oral action is over, he has briefly reciprocated. By the end of the scene, Hazzard has bottomed in lap, sidesaddle and missionary positions -- and realized that he is capable of having sex even when he doesn't particularly want to.
When the trucker drops him off, he spends his last money on a seedy motel room where he chain smokes and contemplates his lot, distracted by the sounds of out-of-control action in the next room. There, a pair of tweaked out coke heads (dark-haired Jacob Slader and skinhead Joey Jay) are snorting their way into druggy oblivion, spinning through rough and tumble foreplay into a bout of nasty oral sex in which Slader slaps his partner around, slams him against the wall and now and then manages to shove his dick down Jay's wasted throat. This raw, mean coupling is as stark as any in the annals of gay porn -- Slader attacks Jay with all the ferocity of a mad dog, and Jay vaguely welcomes him with the bleary willingness of the basket case that he has become. Although the episode is the most gratuitous of the film, it is also the most unsettling, and it does serve the plot by prompting Hazzard to flee the place and end up, literally, on the streets.
As the ongoing downward spiral of his life continues, Hazzard is befriended by a warm-hearted hustler (Marcus Iron) who feeds him and promptly initiates him into the world of the streets. ("I don't think I can do this," Hazzard says but soon finds that indeed he can.) Their first two-for-one client is hottie Tommy Ritter, all geeked out in nerdy glasses and baggy clothes, and Iron begins with his standard spiel, "What's a hot guy like you doing picking up a street hustler?" As Hazzard watches and eventually gets turned on, the relentlessly sexual Iron services his youthful john in a sleazy back alley -- it is a master class demonstration of his amazing gifts for deep-throating and tongue-fucking. At first strictly trade, the uneasy Ritter wallows in the experience but eventually begins to reciprocate. By the time Hazzard joins them, Ritter has conquered his gag reflex and managed some very impressive deep-throating himself. He certainly gets his money's worth -- he tops Iron and bottoms for Hazzard before all three explode.
Soon, "What's a hot guy like you doing picking up a street hustler?" becomes Hazzard's mantra, though it is repeated with less and less enthusiasm as he works his way through a montage of tricks -- until one pulls a gun on him. In the ensuing scuffle, the gun goes off to end Part One. It is damned near the best cliffhanger to be seen on the small screen since the days when everyone was asking, "Who shot J.R.?"
Go to: Wrong Side of the Track: Part Two
- Jerry Douglas
