WARNING!
Fabian Harri
Distributor | Released | Length |
---|---|---|
High Octane Productions | 2004 | 114 |
The package that these moving men wish to deliver is so big that it takes repeated viewings to completely unwrap. And they are a cut above your typical UPS fantasy man, each distinctively European, complete with uncut pricks.
Snow isn't much of a deterrent for the first pair of movers. Rossi Fabab and John Zorg trudge through piles of slush to hand-deliver a mysterious box to slender Ritchy Segely and boyfriend Robert Petri. When Ritchy dashes upstairs, the best way for moving men Rossi and John to shake the chill out of their, ahem, bones, is to start fucking around on their customer's couch. If only my service guys were so fucking ballsy! Unfazed, homeowners Ritchy and Robert move right in, putting the men through the paces. All are tanned, smooth-bodied lads hungry to fuck, so there's plenty of partner switching, and not a disappointing cock in the lot. As the snow melts off their work boots, boyish Ritchy puts it to humpy Rossi in a top-bottom pairing, Rossi and Robert ride their partners' dongs side by side. This four-way concludes with some spectacular money-shots.
Langdon King and Larry Davis would rather fuck atop a pool table rather than move it. Both boys have long lanky bodies that look luscious as they each prop an asscheek over the corner pocket so they can get some head in turn. The pool table is obviously well-made, although the manufacturer probably didn't expect two guys to 69 on it. Landon, the real beauty of the pair, gets rear-ended in every conceivable position, thankfully without having to bat aside pool balls.
The next trio may be beautiful to look at, but face facts -- they don't get much moving done. Michael Smith, Jack Robinson and Fabian Harri (on the box cover) see the bed that they are charged with moving and see an opportunity to get naked. What starts as pec-comparing turns into a full-blown free-for-all in what has to be the best scene throughout. None are shy about sucking cock or giving an expert rim. Lucky Jack has the enviable position of having Michael stuffed up his ass and tribally-tattooed Fabian crammed in his mouth clear back to the tonsils. All three models unleash puddles of goo over Jack's smooth chest.
Besides beds and pool tables, weight benches also seem to trigger horny movers. Fergus Smart only wanted a tip or two on his bench-press technique and instead gets cock from both sides (hired movers Parker Zaach and Ivan Rohan). Providing top-notch customer service, Parker tests the durability of the weight bench as he gets tag-teamed by his customer and his moving buddy. Check out Ivan's intriguingly nasty scar over his right hip as he puts it to Ivan, day-glo uniform swaddled around his ankles.
Jacob Peter, Matthew Harris and Joseph Lewis apparently all work for the same moving company that employs every over-sexed musclehead we've been introduced to so far. These three get winded easily and their coffee break predictably turns into horseplay, and then a fuck-and-suck. Joseph has an incredible chest, carved beautifully from the rest of his muscular torso. He spends so much time, however, bent in half giving head or licking ass that I had to be quick to catch snapshots of his cock-stiffening physique. The director gives us some terrific views throughout, but the view from underneath Matthew's dark goose-fleshed balls as Joseph gives Matt's prick a spit-shine is one of the most glorious. All three take a turn getting fucked, demonstrating that versatility can be a remarkable thing. As sculpted blond Joseph bounces up and down on Jacob, Matthew doesn't skip a beat and grabs Joseph's stiff prick for some well-placed sucks. In the end, all three use Joseph's beautiful pecs as a target for their cum.
Very few pieces of furniture get where they were supposed to go. Their clients' property instead makes a much better platform for heated rimming, furious blowjobs and ass-poundings. Director Louis Handsome scores points for often using the most unexpected model in the group to play topman, and for choosing guys with body types ranging from lanky to muscular, and also delivers big cum-shots. While I certainly wouldn't hire these guys to move my stuff from one end of the room to the other, I wouldn't hesitate to personally move any of them into my bedroom. Apparently, all you have to do is escort them past the pool table and weight bench and tell them how you want the bed moved.
DVD features: Chapters; auto-start, auto-repeat; galleries; behind-the-scenes footage; and no regional coding (playable worldwide).
A VHS + DVD Review by Rick Forrent
A modest programmer from Herve Handsome's High Octane studio, Moving Men is a collection of five loops that have nothing to do with one another except that each involves Eastern European blue-collar workers in the furniture moving business. In only two of the scenes does anything actually get delivered; in the other three, the movers get sidetracked by their gonads long before they can lift anything but their hefty, uncut dicks.
Moving Men is directed by a new name to us, Louis Handsome -- the boss's son, brother, spouse? -- and he is clearly a journeyman director who has either seen a lot of porn or a lot of porn sets, for he knows the basics but not the magic of adult filmmaking. The result is pretty much a rerun of things we have seen before done better.
The first sequence begins as two youthful workers (Rossi Fabab, in bright blue overalls, and John Zorg, in bright red overalls) deliver a package to a home in which live two lovers (Ritchy Segley, a glossy cutie, and Robert Petrie, who has an oversized tattoo vined over his left shoulder, chest and back). While Segley hurries upstairs to fetch Petrie, the two movers begin to make out on the bright yellow couch, and reality -- even porn reality -- goes out the window. Kissing and caressing have segued into stripping and sucking by the time the residents come back downstairs. After asking, "What are you doing?" -- obviously a rhetorical question -- they immediately join in and settle into opposing pairs (Fabab and Segley, and Zorg and Petrie). All four are lean, attractive and hard-dicked but nothing like the big, butch bodybuilders in Herve Handsome's films.
As the four suck and eventually fuck (Segely into Fabab, Zorg into Petrie), the camerawork is clean and craftsmanlike but always maintains a discreet distance from the action, even in close-ups. What's more, the camera rarely moves, so that the feeling is that of watching a series of still photographs come to life. The boys moan a lot, but all are metronome suckers and robot fuckers in a series of posed tableaux that dissolve from one position to the next. The illusion that we are watching real sex is never created, and the result is a formulaic scene in which four good-looking twinks prove they are capable of having man-to-man sex even though they are not especially interested in it.
The performers in the second vignette have the greatest potential of any in the cast, but both are sadly wasted. They stroll into a gray room, try to move a pool table, decide they can't and begin to nuzzle each other. Both are very easy on the eyes. The one in blue overalls (Langdon King) is a major beauty who has appeared in other low-budget films and should not be as uncomfortable as he seems to be here. His partner, in red overalls (Larry Davis) is, arguably, the most sexy of those assembled, and every now and then, he strikes sparks that suggest what he could do with a little encouragement.
The sexplay here follows a pattern that is repeated in every scene throughout the film: Kissing, pecs admiration, tit slathering, undressing, kneeling, A sucking B, B sucking A, a dollop of rimming, a tower of sucking during any threeway, fucking doggie-style, fucking missionary style, jacking off to climax on one another -- and then each scene stops, not ends. One item on the director's check-list of things to get dissolves into the next without a through line, mounting heat or any sense that the players have any carnal interest in one another. Here, King actually seems in pain during the fucking, and Davis mostly pistons away as if he were plugged into a vacuum pump, not another hot guy.
In the third scene, set in an attic bedroom, a trio of movers (a butch blond in blue overalls, Michael Smith; a pale brunet in red overalls, Jack Robinson; and a tall brunet with his entire right arm tattooed, Fabian Harri) set out to move a series of single beds. They get as far as pushing two of them together when Smith lies down to take a nap. Soon they begin comparing pecs, and the nipple slathering begins. Unfortunately, a large wooden post in the center of the room blocks large portions of the action.
Before long, Robinson is sucking Smith's sturdy, upright erection (only its head, of course, as is Eastern European custom), and in time, a tower of sucking is presented. Harri, who has frequently worked for William Higgins, is the most at ease but works here at little more than half-throttle. Smith is the only one who eats ass, and the pixie-like Robinson is an energetic sucker. But each shot lingers on the screen too long, and it seems as if they will never get to the fucking. Eventually, of course, they do. Smith tops both the others (Harri, doggie, and Robinson, sidesaddle) with more energy than most of the fuckers in the other scenes, but it is clear that his heart isn't where his dick is.
A gym is the setting for the next sequence, where a set of weights is being delivered by two hunky workers. Ivan Rohan, who has given far more energetic performances in the films of Jan Novak for Studio 2000, is the one in blue; Parker Zaach, who could be the brother of Bel Ami's Sebastian Bonnet, is the one in red. Fergus Smart, who ordered the equipment, is the runt of the litter except when it comes to dick size, and he is quick to show it off. Again, admiring each other's pecs quickly leads into a tower of blow jobs, this time on the weight bench, but it is an a construction we have seen before.
The fucking is conscientiously industrious. Smart fucks Zaach first, in doggie position on the bench as the kid sucks Rohan; then, after a quick dissolve, they are in the same position only reversed. Rohan is now in the driver's seat, and Zaach is sucking Smart. The money shots are also delivered as before, with two of them (Rohan and Smart) standing over the third. This is perhaps the most by-the-numbers action in all the film. Smart tries, Zaach endures, and Rohan phones in his performance.
The final episode has to do with moving some heavy benches, but at this stage of the game, everyone seems bored with the gimmick, and the attempt is barely made before one of the workmen says, "Let's party." Each of the three performers, all in red, is a distinct type: Jacob Peter is a lanky, sweet-faced brunet; Matthew Harris is a rough-hewn street kid with a scar across one cheek; and Joseph Lewis, another Higgins veteran, is blessed with almost perfect musculature, including shoulders, pecs, abs and endlessly long legs. Harris is the sparkplug who comes closest to igniting the scene, Lewis nearly deep-throats Peter, and Peter's finest moments find him lapping at Lewis's ass like a puppy at a bowl of dog chow. A tower of sucking is followed by a dissolve into the fucking.
Before the scene is over, everyone has been fucked -- Peter (while sucking Lewis) by Harris doggie-style, Harris (while sucking Peter) by Lewis doggie-style and Lewis by Peter in a squat fuck that provides the hottest moments of the entire film, though he doesn't seem entirely enchanted by what he's doing. Still, even though he appears to be merely going through the motions, his dick stays hard, he energizes the fucking, allows the other two to spray off on his magnificent pecs and delivers a nice fountain of spooge all over himself. It is as strong an ending as one could hope for, but more often than not, Moving Men is an exercise in squandered resources.
- Jerry Douglas