Sydney Unzipped, British director Mike Esser's recent foray into the land down under, is set entirely in Australia's world renowned Kuringgai-Chase National Park, and what a magical place it is for an al fresco sex film. The production brings together seven Aussie sex pups, and during its 96-minute running time, they fuck and suck one another in eight separate loops, each of which suggests that they are genuinely turned on by one another and are generating real sexual heat.
But the whole is not greater than the sum of its parts. Unfortunately, the film's individual jewels have not been strung together to make as glorious a necklace as they warrant. Even in a loop film, structure and forward thrust are essential to capitalize fully on the hunky men and hot sex, but here the order of the scenes and the clumsy editing throughout make the production feel as if it were a patchwork quilt comprised of pieces of film all too often slapped together willy-nilly. The jewels still shimmer but not as brightly as they might in a film more thoughtfully constructed, edited and scored.
Sydney Unzipped opens with spectacular shots of a handsome, open-faced boy-man, Brandon Philips, as he strips down and eases under a roaring waterfall, letting the rush of water cascade over his well-toned physique and airborne erection. In a series of soft dissolves -- not unlike those of a Revlon commercial -- the beauty of place and performer meld flawlessly. Nearby, Philips is being observed by a slender brunet, Craig Braxton, who soon strips down, swims to him and melts into a friendly embrace. Their love scene, partly in the stream at the base of the falls, partly on a flat rock in the middle of it, reveals that both are ardent kissers, gentle nuzzlers, skilled cocksuckers and flip-flop fuckers. The results are romantic and idyllic though somewhat undermined by the musical scoring, which (as throughout the film) seems more appropriate to a discotheque than to the wonderland before us. Finally, Philips' money shot is most notable -- copious, propulsive and seemingly endless.
The second loop is set on a pleasure boat as it glides down a crystal blue river. On it, two mononamed youths, blond Angel and brunet Clinton (who was billed as "Red Center" in Esser's earlier Australian film of the same name), are discovered on the deck, locked in a warm embrace. Their caresses and kissing segue effortlessly into reciprocal blow jobs as they float past the panoramic beauties of the park. The sequence ends with an intense lap fuck as Clinton rides the supine Angel there on the deck, all the while pounding himself toward orgasm. (Pay special note to his knob of a cockhead that looks like a hard rubber ball atop his thick shaft.) In spite of lengthy close-ups of the penetration, a careless piece of editing in a wider shot reveals that Angel's cock is tucked between Clinton's buttocks, not in him. They are at least partially faking it, and the illusion is shattered. Even so, both money shots are as awesome as the scenery.
The entire cast is gathered together for an orgy in the third loop, but it seems out of place so early in the film, especially since we have met barely half the cast at this point. This scene would have worked far better as the finale, especially since the current final scene is the briefest and most lackluster of the entire film. What's more, the editor again and again breaks the cardinal rules for cutting a group scene: Be sure to let the viewer know who is doing what to whom, which cock belongs to which face, how one configuration changes to another, and who is delivering which money shot. When the viewer is lost trying to figure out what's going on, the sexual heat, no matter how well performed, quickly dissipates.
In the fourth loop, Christian Saint (the other star of Esser's Red Center) is discovered sprawled on a flat mesa of rock against a spectacular vista, happily stroking his hefty cock. Almost at once, he is joined by Philips and Braxton, and the results, as performed, are incendiary. The scene as edited, however, is a whirlwind of quick dissolves, suggesting that no two shots matched, but we do get to see snatches of some really terrific cocksucking from all three, a smidgen of rimming from Braxton and some heated stretches of fucking, the best of which finds Saint riding Philips in a potent lap fuck. In time, Philips and Saint unload on supine Braxton before a fadeout of kisses all around.
Next, on another mesa of flat rock against another picture-postcard view, Clinton sits studying a map. Soon he is joined by a tall, pale-skinned brunet, Kyle Lee. They stare at each other for a long, electric moment, and the scene dissolves to them already kissing. The eye contact between them is riveting, but both are slow to rise. (Perhaps it's the music, which is especially out of place in this scene.) Although both give each other head, the heat does not really begin to percolate until they sit facing each other Indian style and begin to stroke themselves. Each zones off into his own world -- the connection between them vanishes -- and each seems content with a self-activated hand job.
The sixth loop again features Saint in a lush grove filled with dappled sunlight. He is soon joined by the mononamed Lincoln, the oldest member of the cast, whose tight bod and friendly face are spattered with freckles. He comes from behind Saint to kiss his neck, grope and ease him out of his shorts. Lincoln is a topnotch sexualist, sucking and rimming Saint before slamming him against a tree for a hard-driving doggie fuck. Although both have intermittent erection problems, the scene ends with a pair of strong money shots -- Saint's streamers of spooge are especially notable.
The seventh loop is set on yet another flat mesa against yet another striking view -- but by now we are beginning to have a sense of déjà vu. We have seen the actors -- blond Angel and brunet Braxton -- doing the same things they have done before, and the backgrounds are beginning to blur. Even so, this is the best lensed and best performed scene in the film, but it carries the baggage of previous scenes. Still, sparks fly as the two performers, sunbathing on another flat gray rock, begin to sport boners that tent their matching green bathing suits. The reciprocal oral action is very well captured from inventive angles as each manages to swallow the other's every inch, both individually and in a hungry 69. The fucking -- standing doggie, Angel into Braxton -- is even better performed and filmed, and their geyser-like money shots are the best of the film.
The scene is well worth waiting for and should end the film (unless the orgy is used for the finale), because the eighth loop -- a truncated snippet with Lincoln and Braxton on still another slate mesa against still another beautiful background -- should have been cut altogether. As it is, Sydney Unzipped now ends with its weakest, most redundant moments, which tend to obliterate many of the jewels that have sparkled intermittently throughout it. And it spite of all its liabilities, there is much to admire and considerable sexual heat to arouse viewers. But, oh, it could have been so much better.
- Jerry Douglas