DVD Review: Michael Lucas’ “La Dolce Vita”

December 29, 2006
JONNO

Many people think of Fellini's "La Dolce Vita" as a perpetually glamorous twilight world populated by rich ne'er-do-wells wearing dark sunglasses and diamond tiaras while they jump into fountains and chase each other around in expensive Italian sportscars. But it's often forgotten that there's an equal dose of bitter that goes with all that sweetness: the nights might be all about picking up prostitutes in your convertible and darting paparazzi and fountain jumping, but it's that pervading sense of desperate melancholy that lingers once the sun comes up.

It's a credit, then, to directors Michael Lucas and Tony Dimarco that their version of "La Dolce Vita" manages to capture that melancholy while adhering loosely to many of the plot details of the original. In fact, this may be one of the saddest porn movies you've ever seen. (And that's meant as a compliment.)

Lucas' "La Dolce Vita" transposes the Rome of Fellini's original to contemporary Manhattan, mainly that part of it below 23rd Street on the West Side. Lucas plays Max Todd, a pouty journalist afflicted with a nagging case of writer's block; we follow Max in his mostly nocturnal wanderings from a fashion show to downtown loft parties to a murky subterranean sex club in his pursuit of ... something that's never exactly made clear beyond a looming book deadline. Some kind of pornographic angst, apparently.

One thing that makes the original "La Dolce Vita" a cherished classic is the fact that Marcello Mastroianni's character remains likeable throughout all his skirt chasing and party hopping; by contrast Michael Lucas's character, through accident or design, isn't someone we want to get to know better or particularly care what happens to. That case of writer's block that frames his character comes off less as a matter of creative torment than it does a three-hour bout of constipation.

Missing from Lucas' adaptation too is Fellini's sense of absurdity about the lifestyle he's depicting: while the original "La Dolce Vita" showed a Rome filled with madcap contessas and nightclub freaks, Lucas' New York is populated almost exclusively with Marc Jacobs-clad Chelsea boys (when they're not totally naked, that is), save for a few demimondaines (Kevin Aviance, Amanda Lepore, Michael Musto) who function mainly as set decoration during the opening fashion show sequence. And all those parties and pageants are depicted without ironic detachment; even that iconic fountain-jumping scene (starring straight porn siren Savanna Samson, looking gorgeous as ever) seems sort of perfunctory in an "isn't this outrageous!" kind of way. So Lucas' version of "La Dolce Vita" mostly ends up being less a commentary on the emptiness of a certain kind of gay existence than an earnest documentary of what makes life in Manhattan so fabulous if you happen to be Michael Lucas.

Still, there's that pervasive melancholy throughout that makes "La Dolce Vita" so fascinating, thanks largely to photographer Tony Dimarco's gauzy, dreamlike depiction of New York City and enhanced by a haunting soundtrack by nekked and Keith Nolan. You'll be more likely to remember the movie's mood and atmosphere instead of its plot details and occasionally stilted dialogue after you've seen it—an admirable quality in any film, but especially one you probably started watching just to find something quick to jerk off to.

Most people don't watch porn for the atmosphere, though, so it's a good thing that "La Dolce Vita" also includes some of the hottest sex scenes Lucas and Dimarco have ever filmed. Of particular note are the pairings of Ray Star and Brad Star as a straight movie star stud and nightclub stripper, respectively (and not just because they share the same nom de porn and tattoo motifs), as well as college twink Jamie Donovan and sexy daddy Spencer Quest (who's afterwards exposed to be an underage chicken hawk, which makes his scene with Donovan vaguely creepy in retrospect. But it's still hot.)

We wish Lucas exclusive Ben Andrews had been used to better advantage than his backstage quickie with Jack McCarthy which opens the film (and which you'll miss if you skip around via the DVD chapter menu); and while the scene with the adorable Cole Ryan and the ever-dependable Chad Hunt should have been one of the best in the movie given our fondness for both, it never quite gets going as much as we'd have liked it to. (But that may be because we have a particular crush on Cole Ryan, fetching lisp and all. So maybe we're just jealous.)

A THC-enhanced threeway with Lucas, Jason Ridge, and Derrick Hanson might have been more interesting had it stuck to the setup in the original film, where Marcello Mastroianni and Anouk Aimee pick up a prostitute and have sex in her squalid bedsit while she sits sipping coffee in the next room—though it would have been a shame to have Hanson missing out on the action in this case. (After all, if there's an extra set of plumbing to be had in a porn movie, you might as well use it.) The other sex scenes that star Lucas himself work if you like watching Michael Lucas have sex, and while he's a gifted sexual performer he tends to dominate every scene he's in at the expense of his fellow performers. Then again, we're not just watching a porn treatment of "La Dolce Vita" here; we're watching Michael Lucas' "La Dolce Vita"—and don't you forget it, bitches.

So while it's occasionally frustrating to see "La Dolce Vita" creep along under the weight of Lucas' ego, it still remains one of the most ambitious porn movies we've seen in a long time. And whatever you may think of Lucas himself, he deserves a lot of credit for largely succeeding in what he set out to do. It may not reach the sublime heights of its source material, but in its vision and polish "La Dolce Vita" is still several notches above almost every other porn movie you'll see this year. For that reason alone, it ends up being a classic of its own kind too. - JD