Sexual Matrix is a movie that is unafraid to stand up for itself; to proudly, elloquently proclaim to all that it is really a very not very good at all film. Your standard softcore porn flick, with the noteable quirk of having no shots below the waste. I mean, if you're gonna have an unrated movie all about some guy giving a girl the hot rod injection you should at least show the hot rod being injected, narmean? Anyway, I'm sure you all know the kind of movie this is. It's the kind of movie that attracts the kind of actress who will tirelessly claim to be heterosexual up to and durring the moment when she nibbles the other heterosexual actress's clit. "It's not gay, you see, because--look--we were separated at all times by a clear plastic sheet." That said, aside from the unintentionally Twilight Zone-esque effect of the sex scenes being lit in a confusing shade of deyglow orange despite there being no natural source of light in the scene itself for miles, the sex being shot really is not that interesting. May be your kind of thing if you enjoy watching women gyrate in wholly unnatural and sometimes downright frightening ways, however I get the feeling that foot fettishists will find no joy here. I would be bothered to feel bad for them, if they were not creepy goddamn disgusting fucking foot fettishists. But, like I was saying, before you got me off on that tangeant, the movie is far more entertaining when it tries to be a normal movie, with a plot, and everything. Just like Basic Instinct! Actually, now that I think of it, a lot like Basic Instinct. In this case the plot is simple, yet profound: a psychology professor from the university of We-Couldn't-Get-The-Rights-To-A-Real-University-Name is undertaking an experiment into the human subconscious wherein subjects are (I am not making this up) strapped into a chair, attached to a giant computer mainframe--just like Spider and Web, only with more tits, and far less depth ("So nothing at all like Spider and Web at all, then. Also, we were born after 1987 and have no idea who Andrew Plotkin is." --Everyone.)--at which point they are allowed to live out their deepest fantasies... through the power of VR. The reasons behind this study are not really bothered to be explained, but I do know that they are nothing at all sexual, and the movie is frankly morally outraged at you for daring to even think such a slanderous accusation. He is helped by his plucky, female assistant who manages to not only do his job better than he does, but also be just unprofessional enough to ruin the entire experiment. I mean some girls just get so uptight about you fingering them while they're strapped inside somebody's mainframe, you know? Tch. She also gives head to strangers. But only if it is... for SCIENCE!!! (I am still not making this up.) Also there's some stuff about an x-wife who wants nothing to do with the main male lead character (gee, I wonder why?) but quite frankly this review is already long enough and I know you dont' care. There is, of course, a fair smattering of technobabble terms that I don't understand because the writer clearly doesn't either, but I won't insult your collective intelligence by pretending that you didn't already know that. Over all, the movie is far easier to take potshots at when it's trying to be a romance movie (what, you didn't expect the office assistant to fall for the professor? What are you, an idiot?), and is useful in games such as "betting on how many times they'll use the same establishing shot before the end of the movie". (My guess: 20.) Steal, do not rent or buy, this movie, as it's good for a few laughs in the MST3K sort of way.
Things I learned from this movie:
- Men make no noise durring sex. Women, by contrast, scream.
A low IQ means you have a correspondingly low sex drive.
All you need to put the romantic spark back into your relationship is a little bit of friendly rape.
Flashing green lights are very erotic.
Psychology professors have absolutely no imagination whatsoever. "Cybertron"? For God's sake. Why not just call it the fucking "machine" while you're at it.
Science professors, AKA biggest prudely nerds EVARR, look like health club models.
Women should be forgiven for their inability to control their (inate) bisexual, voyeuristic, and unconsensual sex urges Because they're, you know, women.
Women are only good for one orgasm. Men, by contrast, never orgasm--unless it is at the hands, so to speak, of a major character.
The female pelvic region has no bones; their hips are made entirely from silicone.
Even though the record company has just given you a limo to ride in to celebrate your being signed, the band has no actual interest in riding in it.
Commercial air lines will allow you to drink a six pack of generic non brandname alcohol.
You can have sex with an airline stuerdice while the commercial airliner is in flight, and no one will even annoyedly ask "Hon, can I get a refill, like maybe today?"
The word "positronic" actually means something. Exactly what, I am just too stupid to explain.
