As actors and vessels for our art, we are taught to act with the part of the body that has the most to gain. In the case of Eva Angelina and Marco Banderas, who recently shot a scene for his upcoming website, the motivation was all in the teeth.
Read more after the gap.
As you know, I don’t like most kinds of fish, unless they are battered beyond recognition. Once my girlfriend’s mother served me salmon and I ate the whole thing, because I was of the impression it was important to them.
Because I am America’s Beloved Porn Journalist, it was with the same kind of reluctant resolve that I asked Marco Banderas the following question:
“How many times have you come in one day for a movie?”
“Six times,” he said, “in one day, for one movie.”
“Jesus Christ,” I said.
Just the work that would have been required to put together six different partners, what with all the weeping, imprecations, and offers of rides home, would have exhausted me after four.
Banderas and Angelina were at Assassin Studios in Chatsworth for this shoot, the first of two Banderas would film that day (the second scene was with Lela Star). He is building content for his website launch, and Angelina was first on the agenda.
This is exactly how my mother would sit on the couch and hold a cigarette. Seeing Eva Angelina do it, I heroically suppressed a brain aneurysm and continued with my work, emotionally scarred.
Banderas’ Newcastle-born wife, Lisa DeMarco, was shooting behind the scenes footage. At first I didn’t know she was an adult performer; I just thought I was coveting my neighbor’s wife, but she said she had recently returned to performing after more than a year away.
“I told Derek (Hay, owner of agency L.A. Direct Models) that I wouldn’t do anal for him, so I have him interracial instead,” she said.
This is similar to when I substitute a garbanzo bean and butter mixture for pate de fois gras in my nationally syndicated cooking show, “Dining with America’s Beloved Porn Journalist”, I noted.
Newcastle is also the birthplace of Taylor Wane. I imagined the two future pornstresses learning about love in the shadow of Hadrian’s Wall.
I watched still photographer Gordon “Nippy” Liu work. It was as if, to get the perfect shot, he needed to become one with Banderas.
Assassin’s studio (co-owner: Tommy Gunn) is in a long row of low, small warehouses that are primarily used for light manufacturing. Prime Time Uncensored is a few doors down, as is a place that lubes drill bits. What I’m saying is that pornographers are just like you and me.
Imagine, then, a building that with a different owner might be used to rebuild motorcycle engines and you have a good idea where today’s porn is being made. There was a little makeup area, an office, a makeshift shower, a bathroom, a reception area, and the studio where Banderas and Angelina filmed their scene, which was also accessible by a huge garage door.
Instead of the garage door, we saw a framed Robert Doisneau print (“that guy isn’t me, but we have the same haircut,” said Banderas), a couch, and a potted plant.
When Banderas shoots enough scenes, he will launch his site, MarcoBanderasxxx.com. The tentative launch date is in September. But right now he cannot get the immediate positive reinforcement we artists crave, and must labor without the glory.
Previously: Lettuce from our readers re: AVN 2007; Pharaoh Porn; Jesse Jane: Image
See also: Assassin Pictures
And how did your mother sit on the couch while getting nailed by Marco Banderas?
Most uncomfortably, but she held her own.
Luckily, I brought a clip!
aren’t you on the wrong part of the web for this sort of thing “anonymous”?
And what would be the right part of the Web, Missy? Should I submit a Gram’s Mom Photoshop contest to Fark? Not until we find a way to guarantee clickthroughs for Ponante Enterprises, dear.
Oh, so you’re doing this to help Gram? I got it confused for the type of nothing-better-to-do teardowns you see on GFY…
Guy’s a rodent, Grammypants
“Doing this?” Doing what, posting a single inane image in a guy’s blog? Now I’m curious whether Gram thought the pic was a “teardown” or, instead, the cheerful jest that it was obviously intended to be. Since Gram is a man of the world and knows the score, I guess he thought the latter. Unless your PMS is catching.
Oh, snap! No he didn’t! Now go share your aimless, blathering anger with all of your MySpace friends so that they’ll post, too. Welcome to the Internet!
Surely Mr. Ponante won’t comment, but for what it’s worth I got a chuckle from the Gram & Marco photo and I doubt it was posted for any other purpose. I mean, I’ve had friends photoshop my head into similarly pressing situations, and I’ve done the same to them. No one’s feelings get hurt; it’s probably a guy thing. But, way to go Gram! I wish I had people trolling my weblog to protect my feelings too. Alas, I have to pay extra for that service on my webhost. 🙂
It just seems unkind, unnecessary, and cheap. Hey Grams, am I defending you inappropriately?
Yikea! Look at all these comments! I need to hire an intern. But what would I do with her the other 7.5 hours of her shift?
Let’s see: Thanks, Missy, for leaping to my defense. You’re right, this does seem like something you’d expect somewhere else.
But while I would personally prefer to have my image superimposed on, say, Cthulhu, Police Chief Martin Brody, Iron Maiden’s Eddie, a Cenobite, Radagast the Brown, or even Kim Deal, you have to admit that “your mother” jokes don’t have the same impact as they did in Fonzie’s era.
AND WITH THAT, THE THREAD WAS CLOSED FOREVER. Everyone learned something and was thus a better person:
*Anonymous learned that Gram’s mom is beloved in the porn community, and that even girls who read articles about violent throatjob movies can be sent into an emotional tizzy by the unfathomable power of Adobe Photoshop.
*Missy learned that the Internet is uniformly retarded, and that as soon as you open a blog for public comment it shall never be safe again.
*Algiers and Andrew, falling passionately in love on the sidelines, learned that herpes is transmittable even when there are no visible sores.
*And finally, Gram the Man, after learning about the financial windfall that can result from a controversial 10-post blog entry, settled down and married his newfound intern. And after consulting his vast library of complimentary DVDs, he also learned how to fill the other 7.5 hours of her day: namely, with his massive mancock.
Everyone then got together for a delicious buffet lunch, got wasted on cheap beer, gained empathy for everyone else’s unique and equally valid point of view, and promised to be the best of friends for ever after.
THE END!
Thank you, the narrator, for tying it all together. I am publishing these comments under my pseudonym, J.T. LeRoy.