Rudeboiz is both the title of a grungy new loop film and the name of the production company that made it. Shot in London, it is in many ways crude and amateurish; in others, hotter than hell. First off, the formulaic action of one scene is often the same as that of another. Only the cast changes. In each sequence, one young bloke in a drab flat awaits the, arrival of another; the second one arrives and without a word, they fall into an embrace, move on to reciprocal blowjobs, shift to ass-fucking, and in time fire off their loads -- as if the director were ticking off the shots on a checklist. Are these characters lovers, friends, fuck buddies or rent boys? We are never once told. Probably they are just street kids paid to have sex for the camera, and they constantly remind the viewer that this is a performance -- they invariably acknowledge the off-camera director and repeatedly look at him for guidance or approval. That said, it must also be noted that Rudeboiz contains some of the most unbridled sex captured on tape in many a moon.
All of the scenes are set in the "council flats" -- public housing or "the projects," as they are known here in the States -- and the videography is as bleak and colorless as the milieu in which they have been filmed. The performers all seem to be rough-hewn members of the British lower class and, as such, play into the class-crossing fantasies that were most feverishly brought to life in D.H. Lawrence's Lady Chatterley's Lover or E.M. Forster's Maurice. Although here the boys wear rip-off copies of designer athletic suits, chromium neck-chains, oversized wristwatches, rhinestone ear studs and an occasional tattoo or two, they are clearly the descendants of the raw stable boys of Victorian England -- and all nine cast members clearly display the mythic sexual prowess and oversized, uncut equipment attributed to youths of their station.
Each of the five no-frills loops is set in a different section of London. The first, titled "Mile End," features a tall, slender, dirty blond with full lips and a towering dick (David James) and his guest, a pixyish little brunet with a perpetual grin and a capacious asshole (Kyle O'Shea). Once the self-conscious O'Shea gets an okay from the off-camera director, he melts into James' arms for a series of surprisingly sweet kisses. Their groping, nipple chewing, sucking, rimming and fucking are all presented in a series of shots separated from one another by two-second dissolves that constantly remind the viewer he is seeing highlights from a filmed scene, but the performances of the two "boiz" feel spontaneous and enthusiastic. Among the highlights are O'Shea's pounding of himself as he sucks, James' spit-soaked deep-throating, O'Shea's gleeful moans and James' twitching erection during the rimming, James' ass-fingering (using only his little finger), O'Shea happily impaling himself during the lap fuck and James' streaming money shot. This may have been a performance, but these two clearly love their work.
Entitled "Leytonstone," the second loop features the only three-way of the film. In it, a pair of "mates" (stocky Mark Blakely and slender James Pringle) talk briefly to the camera before the arrival of another compact little brunet (Marcel Thomas) who wastes no time in igniting the scene by following his tongue into kissing both his hosts. Blakely and Pringle work well in tandem as they set about to service and be serviced by the newcomer, and the oral action is presented mostly in a series of chains: Blakely sucking Thomas sucking Pringle, Blakely sucking Pringle sucking Thomas, Thomas sucking Pringle sucking Blakely, etc. Then Blakely buries his tongue in Thomas' ass, which, like virtually all the others in the film, is unshaved. Methodical fingering segues into deep-drill fucking, which is performed solely by Blakely. (Thomas seems an absolute bottom during the multipositioned rutting, and Pringle suggests he is strictly an oral-manual kind of guy.) The scene concludes on a high note with all three shooting shards of spunk all over the supine Thomas.
Both the first and second scenes sizzle, but the next two are even better. In the third, titled "Dalston," a boyish brunet (Andy Dean) who can only be described as a cutie-pie, wanders into another bleak flat to find his host (Alex Ford) asleep on a well-worn couch. Dean's gaucherie is charming, and he is not exactly sure how to start the scene. Finally he giggles, pulls down Ford's pants and sucks him, tentatively at first, but he soon forgets the camera and gets into it. When Ford awakens, we see he is a mousy brunet with close-cropped hair and heavy lids at half-mast over his bedroom eyes. Clearly, he loves kissing, and during the mutual sucking and rimming, he instigates extensive mouth-to-mouth play. It's not long before Dean is on all fours, and Ford is tonguing, fingering and fucking his bubblebutt. The sight of Dean bouncing on Ford's upright erection (as if it were a pogo stick) is a sight to behold, and the sequence ends with each spraying his load all over the other's face and tongue. The final shot is a memorable image of Dean's cum-splattered baby face wreathed in a shit-eating smile.
Things get even better in the next scene, titled "Stockwell." In it, a skinhead with a swimmer's body (Bruno Flex) awaits the arrival of a tall, natural blond (Ben Taylor). As in the preceding scenes, they start off with an instant embrace and greedily suck kisses out of each other's mouth. Both are impressively hung, but Flex's endowment belongs in Stryker-Ryker country. (The shot of it flopping out of his shorts is gasp-inducing.) Flex is also the most uninhibited, most energetic, most adept performer of the film. In a series of quick dissolves, they trade masterful blowjobs, but Flex (again and again burying his nose in Taylor's pubes to throat-fuck himself) is the star of the scene. The sequence is further enhanced by the only flip-flop of the film -- no mean feat, since both possess real ass-stuffer rods. In another series of dissolves, they alternate top and bottom roles in a number of positions that build to the piece de resistance: Flex riding the supine Taylor to a superb splatter shot all over everything. Certainly, this is the apex of the film.
In the finale, entitled "Kings Cross," the formula changes considerably. Seven of the nine cast members have assembled and are already in the midst of a heated orgy. (Also, for the first time in the film, there is background music, not just live sound.) The turbulent action is further ratcheted up by the frenetic MTV-style editing, and it is a pleasure to see the "boiz" a second time around with different partners. (James and Flex make one helluva couple and monopolize the scene). With two notable exceptions, though, each cast member sticks to the sexual role he has played earlier, but Dean here tops at one point, and Ford bottoms brilliantly before taking faceful after faceful of cum from all the others. This scene whirls by so rapidly (and so much is happening at any given moment) that it demands further viewings to be fully appreciated.
Rudeboiz is the creation of director-videographer-editor Simon Booth, and his steamily primitive, technically awkward, highly individual style, while not for everyone, is as interesting as it is arousing. More than an amateur, less than a professional, he is someone to watch.