The attempt was made this month to come up with some Halloween themed movies, but luck of the draw produced only one sorry trick and a qualified treat. Please excuse the sorry punning, but I’m working under a handicap here.

I‘ve been put put off writing this review for several days now by what I thought was my own laziness, but is, I suddenly realize, a loathing for the movie at hand--Red Devil Entertainment’s excruciating Dante. A half-baked idea in the hands of an inexperienced writer belabors the film’s narrative sections (and I hate narrative in porn, at any rate), and half-baked direction and bad editing undo the sexual portions.

I’ll try to be brief, since from here on, I’ll only be elaborating what I’ve just said so succinctly. Scriptwriter, co-director and lead performer Ty Hudson has taken Dante Alighieri’s Inferno as his inspiration--a portentous omen, for sure. In an introduction to the film (certainly a first for porn), he explains that his script went through at least seven rewrites, because, “none of the characters meant what they were supposed to mean.” An even worse portent. Characters as representations of philosophy, mythology, and morality have sunk many a drama. Why should a sexo be an exception? It’s sufficient to say that when the narrative isn’t near incomprehensible, it’s laughable--a sad burden for a group of non-actors to be saddled with.

The sexuality of the movie’s front rank cast of stars just might redeem this mess of highfalutin, self-indulgent farting. We’ve got Trevor Knight, Zackary Pierce, Eddie Stone, Chad Hunt, Trent Atkins in two scenes, and even the formerly sensational Ty Hudson. Perhaps the script’s heavy yoke has constrained them, for nearly all lack the lustiness they’re famed for. After that, they’re done in by meandering videography, tight close-ups that foreshorten some famously non-short schlongs, and choppy editing that obliterates any chance of organic flow or build to the couplings. Yes, there are tasty sights--Mr. Knight wields his long dong as craftily as ever, and for a few moments, Logan Robbins and Trent Atkins charm in their tightie-whities as they grind bulging baskets together. Basically, though, the only reason I stayed long enough to witness the finale, Atkin’s unintentionally campy death after being shot, is that I was supposed to be reviewing the movie. I suggest you spare yourself the indignity of it all. Is it bad to attempt an expression of ideas in porn? Not at all. It’s just bad to do it badly.

It was the Inferno connection, some monk’s robes, and a medieval set that led me to think Dante was Halloween fare. Perhaps it was the food connection of the title, Hot Lunch, that did the same, and as misleadingly. And although I can only ultimately recommend the TitanMedia import from Eastern Europe as a good movie, in comparison to Dante, it’s an Oscar winner.

Although I’ve developed a bias against Czech porn, Titan’s series has mitigated my prejudices somewhat. For one thing, Titan honcho Bruce Cam acted as Executive Producer, and actually went there to oversee things and inculcate a Titan ethos. This means, first of all, that none of Czechoslovakia’s famously gay-for-pay performers have been employed, with their lack of eye contact and sexual robotics. Instead, we have gay or bisexual men who are obviously turned on by male sexuality. Second, we have films in the Titan style--long bouts of cocksucking result in orgasms all around; then the fucking commences, culminating in another round of orgasms. This double-cummed formula means extended scenes--Hot Lunch has only three, spread out along a detail-filled full two hours.

There remains a penchant for moving through a seemingly prescribed succession of fuck positions. Yet this offers even more chances to watch the amazing Czech dongs in action. Are huge, log-like cocks the rule over there? Are Czech guys somehow related to Puerto Ricans? Looking past their dicks (if that’s possible), the men are uniformly smooth-bodied. Not much hair, over there. And not much of it around their severely clipped or entirely deforested pubes. It’s a look I happen to like. I’m not as fond of every cast member being uncut, though that may be the very raison d’etre for Czech porn. You may also go for sex in semi-public spaces, but I’m not entirely comfortable with the not so cozy cafeteria setting of Hot Lunch, where walls and floors are cool tile, prep tables are cold stainless steel, and the lighting is bright florescent.

Yet what you’ve come for is sex. It’s entirely dependable, and served up quickly, with no narrative and only the briefest of introductions to the Lunch Counter, the Prep Kitchen and the Storage Room. What’s more, you’re sure to find your own idea of a dreamboat among its varyingly attractive performers.

I was mighty taken by a lean slab named Otto Roberts, not just because of his refined features, pale eyes and fair skin, but for the the sly smile he flashes frequently. And, oh, his whopper cock is the film’s most classically shaped. He’s a pungent fucker in the final threeway--his long legs give good leverage. He doesn’t disappoint in the hearty spurt of his cum shot, either.

Alternately, you may like best Lenny Bull, a shaved headed hunk who uses his husky cock as well as a zucchini to shag both cute Alex Marchini and fascinating Gerry Owen. He’s got the looks of an international model (pretty, in a masculine way), a shag haircut and a spurt of tattoo blooming on his upper arm. What an accommodating, appreciative bottom he is, too. Watch him steal the scene by sexily playing with his own hole as Bull bores his big bone into Alex.

Still, the men of Hot Lunch can be a little faceless, in that Czech way; I like a little more personality. And no one cums because they’re so excited by getting fucked. They stop and jack off to climax. So though dependable, Hot Lunch is ultimately not quite as effective as Titan’s home grown stuff.