Inches

By:
In-House Review - May 09 2017

From the press notes (author unknown): "Inches is an intelligent love story by Steve Scott about contemporary lovers. Al Parker (an up and coming photographer) decides to learn more about the swinging life and unknown sexual practices after his lover (Steve Taylor, his real-life lover) walks out on him. The story opens with a tension-creating segment as Parker awakens from a dream, only to tie up his cock and balls and unload himself, while Taylor soaps up in the shower and does his own thing. Taylor leaves for a working trip; he returns at the end of the day feeling dead tired, but not too tired to get his ass licked by Parker or have it filled with hard meat. However, Parker's nightmares and fears of his waning relationship begin to plague him; he dreams of Taylor languidly sucking three strangers' cocks (and his butthole methodically plowed by an endless series of boners) and confronts his lover with his unfounded jealousy. Taylor decides to end their already strained relationship; Parker retaliates by swallowing the dick of a hitchhiker in his jeep. Later, the now-lonely Parker's prospects get better once he succumbs to the sexual interests of a horny co-worker (Bob Blount). He follows Blount to a sleazy bar where customers enjoy backroom sex to the pulsing beat of Bad Girls and Sunset People. Group groping and anonymous cock-sucking abound. Following this, Parker decides to get to know Blount better. They go to a snowy mountain resort to have sex. Parker balls Blount in a momentous fuck sequence in the snow and by the fireplace. As they drive off into the sunset, the duo decide to keep it ambiguous in terms of commitment. Highlights, too, include Parker fucking a man with his cock and balls at the same time. This film is very strong on plot and sentiment, and successfully recreates the glittering world of the male model: the photo sessions, the gallery openings, the cruisy bars, the artistic friends, and the glittery crowd. However, this overemphasis may not appeal to all."

By: buddhawannabe

At the end of the 1970s, the 'happy ending' was not the one where, after tomcatting around all over town, the hero settles down into domestic bliss. It was more likely to be the one where, after discovering domestic bliss isn't all it's cracked up to be, the hero discovers that tomcatting around all over town can be a lot of fun. In this respect, compare "Inches" to "An Unmarried Woman" of the year before, in which Jill Clayburgh follows a very similar life-path, even to the point of meeting her new lover at the art gallery where she works, resisting him at first, then giving in, yet maintaining her new-found independence to the very end. Al Parker presumably had a MUCH bigger dick than Jill Clayburgh did, of course, and we see a great deal of Al's pal, as well as of his back-door entrance, etc. I first saw "Inches" at the Club Baths in NYC, while resting in the lounge between encounters, and that was shortly after the film was released, which means it was forty years ago, which means shut up. But not only did it reaffirm the very life-style in which I was at that very moment engaged, but it also impressed me as a well-directed, well-written, and, yes, well-acted film, in which our vicarious experience of hot sex fulfills its appropriate function as a natural part of the story line. Previous gay porn directors (Jerry Douglas with "The Back Row," Gorton Hall with "The Experiment," and, in the same year as "Inches," Tom deSimone with "The Idol"--see my reviews) had achieved similar triumphs, but "Inches" achieved the required blend for plot-driven gay porn most successfully yet. (Joe Gage's films of the same decade were in a class of their own.) As the other reviewer points out, if ALL you're looking for is fucking and sucking, you'll get impatient with this one, but if you're looking for something more than repeated viewing of Al Parker's dick and balls (not that there's anything wrong with that), "Inches" provides substantial cinematic content for your consideration.