A Day in the Life…

Porn Reviewers: Are We Living the Dream?

So, you think you want to be a porn reviewer? Sit around all day watching porn, furiously fapping away until you develop a callus on your normally smooth and juicy bits? Get invited to industry parties and make it with as many of the ladies and/or gentlemen of your choice as your genitals can survive? Fall into a Scrooge McDuck-style vault of cash and coins?

Yeah, I’d like to do that, too. And I’ve been reviewing porn for, well, a lot longer than some people think is wise. If my porn reviewing career had gone to college, it would have had its Ph.D. years ago. Hell, it could have lost its tenure based on its porn-reviewing past by now! And yet my decades of intensive study of the intimate human anatomy in motion, both solo and paired – sometimes multiple times simultaneously or sequentially – have not brought me the fame and fortune which so clearly is my birthright. What’s up with that?

I did lose a gig working at an Easter Bunny photo booth at a mall once because of my porn review and adult industry column work, though. So, before you start planning your future based on a side income of a porn reviewer, consider the implications of being “found out” by your regular job. It might be totally cool. It might be a former Easter Bunny gig. And if you aim for a full-time job telling other people how to make their smut sexier from the safety of your computer, carefully consider how you will explain it to your friends, family, and strangers unsatisfied with “I’m a writer” as an answer to “What do you do for a living?”

So, how to get into the industry as a reviewer of quality adult video entertainment? That’s a reasonable question. It’s not something you generally see listed on Indeed or LinkedIn. In my case, my first ex-husband brought home a copy of a strip club tabloid, threw it on our coffee table, and told me that it needed a proofreader. It did. I believe his exact words were, “You say you want to be a writer. These guys need a proofreader.”

Soon I was that proofreader. Then a writer bailed on an interview, and I stepped in, becoming a biographer for sex workers. It totally justified my degrees in History and Anthropology. And all those years translating Classical Greek? Lemme tell you, those came in handy when I started reviewing anal porn! You never know what useless information will prove porn review gold for those lucky, lucky few who manage the ultimate con and get paid to watch porn and then tell other people what they think of it.

Eventually graduating from a columnist for the now-defunct tabloid (that still owes me for reprints of a Valentine’s Day article) to the editor of a monthly, glossy cover, grunge-sensibility strip club magazine provided me with opportunities to further alienate myself from the world of respectable folk and mainstream jobs. On the other hand: naked women.

I managed to connect with Larry Flynt’s publicist during his An Unseemly Man book tour, which lined up with the release of The People vs. Larry Flynt. While he was in town, I was granted an interview and ultimately encouraged to fly to LA for a tour of the Flynt Publishing Building. I didn’t need to be encouraged twice, so I sold one of my father’s rifles and booked a flight. While there, I did several brave and possibly foolhardy things, including let my friend and porn-star-at-the-time Jacqueline Lick talk me into calling Adult Video News Magazine and asking to write for it. Amazingly enough, the person I spoke with was familiar with my strip club magazine and even me. I had a new writing gig. And suddenly there was So Much Porn in my life.

My point in all this self-absorption is that while things may have changed since my entry into “the industry,” the best way I know to break in as a writer is to fall face-first into it by accident. I realize that people go to college to become professional sex writers and educators and life coaches these days, but back in the days of the wild sex-positive frontier those options were not readily available. Like most any creative-heavy professional gig, I have found that hustling like my life depends on it has been the best way to keep from having a so-called “Real Job.”

What does a porn reviewer actually do, though? I mean, porn is porn, right? Bad acting, fake tits, ridiculously big cocks, impossibly thin women, nary a body hair to be located, and worth about five – 15 minutes of your time and energy. That’s certainly the popular fiction and, in many cases, there’s truth to it. While there is intrinsic value to erotic entertainment that includes but is not limited to sexual pleasure, we don’t live in a society that considers the sexual to be a topic worth quality discussion or investment. Thus, the rocky history of motion picture porn. Some of it has been legitimately awful, especially for “niche” performers like BBWs, mature women, or POC.

That’s where porn reviewers come in. I prefer to think of myself as a reviewer than a critic because I don’t see my job as criticizing content so much as reviewing it and providing feedback about what went well, what didn’t work for me, and how I think it can be improved. In some ways, it’s a form of post-production collaboration. Or maybe it just appeals to the megalomaniac in me. Perhaps I’m yet another wannabe director with a lot of opinions but nothing to show for them. It’s obvious I’ve got a lot of opinions, so let’s leave it at that for now.

When I describe my writing process, know that I am describing my writing process and no one else’s. I have no idea how much genuine stroking and splooging takes place during the research phase of other reviewers. We are lone wolves in a competitive industry, and we do not easily share our secrets.

My point, because I do have one, is that my hands are busy typing copious notes during the scenes I watch. If I had the ability to split my attention between masturbating and typing constructive observations, I might do that, but I can’t. I would need more hands. So, I focus on what they pay me to do, which is write reviews, not masturbate.

What are in those “copious notes?” The answer is both simple and complex. In any piece of writing your goal is to answer certain questions. Who. What. When. Where. Why. How. These are the essential bits of information needed in most circumstances. How they’re turned into prose will vary from writer to writer, natch. Some of us have socio-sexual agendas and believe that porn can be more than it has been, so we incorporate our godlike powers into our prose to spread the word about better lighting and more sensitive (and accurate) titles. Others are happy with things the way they are and just want to get their word count completed and paycheck cashed. Perfectly reasonable. Not everybody wants to save the world one real or imagined orgasm at a time.

Who appears in the scene or full-length video? This is not always immediately evident since some sites and production companies like to be cagey. Male performers in straight porn can be especially anonymous. If you at least have a name, you can puzzle out who’s who in most cases thanks to the miracle that is the internet.

What is the scene or video about? Is it an educational video? Does it have a plot? Should we expect a lot of anal? Big boobs? Black MILFs with muscles who knit and give head? What sexual positions should we look forward to seeing? This is important information.

When seems less obvious within a porn review context. But consider how recently the content was shot. When will it be available to the general public, if it’s not yet? Is it from a specific era or does it hope to emulate one? And of course, how long does the scene or video last?

Where does the action take place? We don’t need to know the address of the mansion the director rented, but knowing the sex takes place on the living room couch of a mansion is good to know. It helps differentiate it from every other couch people in porn have sex on. If we take viewers to exotic locations like other countries, cabins in the woods, confessionals, truck stop bathrooms, sex clubs, or the floor of a food pod cart, we need to mention that’s where we are.

Why are these people having sex with each other or themselves? And why are they having sex where they’re having it? Why should fans of this kind of sex or the people engaging in it watch this particular scene or video?

How does it all work together? This is where the details and finesse as a writer come in. Do you mention things like smoke alarms that keep chirping, camera clatter that keeps distracting, or airplanes that keep buzzing overhead? Is there chemistry between the performers or do they look bored, drunk, or strung out? Can you hear the dialogue or, lacking dialogue, can you hear the moaning and heavy breathing? Are the camera angles varied, informative, and enjoyable? How about in focus? Is the lighting good or are the skin tones washed out or lost in shadow?

Finally, how are the performers treated? Are slurs used against them? If so, what is the context? Are they enthusiastic about what they do, or does there appear to be discomfort or reluctance beyond what is needed for the scene or video?

Having decided what you will mention, the hard work of weaving the appropriate words into a piece reflective of the content being reviewed begins. Ideally, the review is a pleasure to read and inspires its readers to want to see what they have just read about. I once received a fan note from a director whose work I enjoyed, telling me that my reviews of his videos were more interesting to read than his videos were to watch. I think that was a compliment for one of us.

These are only a few of the things that I keep in mind while tapping away on my happy little laptop while watching porn and taking notes. Gay porn, straight porn, trans porn, kinky porn, it’s all good to me so long as everyone is of age, consenting, and has their boundaries respected. That’s a lot of note-taking and doesn’t leave much time to fap or jill or diddle, although I do make mental notes about scenes I want to watch at a more leisurely pace with no note-taking at some unspecified future date when I retire to live a Scrooge McDuck lifestyle in my own uniquely pansexual wordsmithy Scrooge McFuck world.

Your mileage, as they say on the interwebs, may vary. So pack a soft rag and your favorite lube, just in case.