Der große Arztreport, 1. Teil: Infrasexum, das Geheimnis der Potenz (1969)

Der große Arztreport, 1. Teil: Infrasexum, das Geheimnis der Potenz: Directed by Carlos Tobalina. With Eroff Lynn, Carlos Tobalina, Marsha Jordan, Maria Tobalina. A middle-aged man is having problems trying to regain his sexual drive. He leaves behind his old life and tries to discover a simpler happiness through painting and meeting new friends.

“Pornographer Carlos Tobalina/Troy Benny switching with the times from soft-core to hardcore XXX saved the world from more narcissistic performances like this one in his debut feature, electing to perform many of the sex scenes himself. In hardcore you need the equipment and ability to do explicit sex, so Tobalina fortunately restricted his future on-screen activities to dumb cameos.u003cbr/u003eu003cbr/u003eHeu0026#39;s the pointless sidekick to our middle-aged hero, whose stage name poorly parodies the great Errol Flynn. Itu0026#39;s yet another porn film about limp-dick syndrome, that most common of maladies before Cialis and Viagra killed off that rich vein of plot lines for dummies. Our hero and his 2nd in command at his company reunited in Tobalinau0026#39;s later film on the subject u0026quot;Marilyn and the Senatoru0026quot;.u003cbr/u003eu003cbr/u003eThe defects of this film are too numerous to discuss in IMDbu0026#39;s 1000 words, but I will attempt to hit some of the low points. Starting off, Tobalina despite making dozens of films and owning his own equipment and studio facilities, never learned the craft of lighting. Ghastly shadows are thrown all over the frame in the simplest of scenes, right from an early exposition where Flynn as Peter Alison tells his top executives including William Kirschner that they will take over running his firm, as heu0026#39;s going on an open- ended sabbatical. Itu0026#39;s On the Road u0026#39;60s style, dropping out to find oneself, a theme I generally love in cinema, but not in the untrustworthy hands of CT.u003cbr/u003eu003cbr/u003eThe boys at Vinegar Syndrome who acquired DVD rights to the bulk of CTu0026#39;s catalog, insist on claiming his films have merit, since itu0026#39;s their job to sell, sell, sell. The DVD notes trumpeting fabulous footage of Las Vegas and Cal. mountains is either a bad joke or reflects their falling prey to the archivistu0026#39;s syndrome: falling in love with footage per se, rather than cinema. Yes, CT has second unit footage of Flynn wandering around Vegas and driving around too, but as his narration talks of him winning $200,000 at the casinos, all the relevant scenes INSIDE a gaming palace are missing – CT having apparently not shot them.u003cbr/u003eu003cbr/u003eHis series of attempts to prove his manhood fail, with scrounger pal Carlos (the auteur) inveigling his way into Peteru0026#39;s confidence, to get money from him and procure girls. Nadir of their bromance comes when Tobalina actually homosexually seduces our hero, staged in shadow-play and left off screen, but embarrassing nonetheless when both men are shown zipping up their pants afterward. Of course, Peteru0026#39;s peter remained limp, but perhaps a butt-f*ck from the director was a possible solution to his lack of sex problem.u003cbr/u003eu003cbr/u003eFull frontal nudity of actresses is the filmu0026#39;s draw, if one were able to travel back in time to 1969 and watch it in a cinema, but CT completely wastes the great star (not starlet as Vinegar schmoes call her) Marsha Jordan in a brief role as Peteru0026#39;s abandoned wife. If one wants genuinely nice scenery and full-fledged major roles for Marsha shot a year later merely watch Don Davisu0026#39;s films u0026quot;Marsha the Erotic Housewifeu0026quot; and the underwhelming u0026quot;The Golden Boxu0026quot;.u003cbr/u003eu003cbr/u003eAlong the way, CT jumps on the bandwagon of attempting to portray the hippie phenomenon on film. He has a nightclub scene that is far from that goal, depicting folks doing the frug to a house band not synced properly to the soundtrack playing Hugh Masekelau0026#39;s decidedly not hippie hit u0026quot;Grazing in the Grassu0026quot;. The intrepid duo later go to a park and get some documentary footage of folks hanging out, not interesting at all as a period artifact, but apparently justifying CTu0026#39;s opening credits boast of u0026quot;1000 extrasu0026quot; on screen.u003cbr/u003eu003cbr/u003eAn idiotic subplot involving a kidnapped girl used to lure moneybags Peter to get mugged and tortured by two crooks reveals Tobalinau0026#39;s inability to make hay of the exploitation genre pioneered by H.G. Lewis. We get some stupid gore (the girlu0026#39;s intestines being waved around) and completely inept action footage of Peter killing the baddies. As with Vegas, all the crucial scenes of police follow-up and our herou0026#39;s exoneration are missing, with quick narration substituted.u003cbr/u003eu003cbr/u003eThough a nubile model finally gives him a hard-on, Peter finally finds meaning in life by sublimating as an artist, though his work as shown here is crap. But this merely reflects the crap that our artist in residence Carlos Tobalina cranked out over a 20-year porn career.”