The Italian Stallion a.k.a. The Party at Kitty & Stud's: A Review of Sorts
By Peter John Gardner
I really wish I could say that there was some long, arduous struggle that delayed my writing of this review. A much more exciting opening paragraph would be some anecdote about how I meticulously slaved over each and every word in this review, struggling to find the right words to articulate the emotions that I felt as I watched a young, ripe, and ready Sylvester Stallone pretend to have sex with a bevy of mediocre looking, 70's porn chicks.
Or I could lie and say that I've just been too busy to get to it. Work, social life, blah blah blah.
The truth is, it's been almost a week since I viewed the film, and I've just been too fucking lazy to get around to writing this proper. I tried a few other drafts. At first, I was going to break this down to a scene by scene analysis complete with screencaps and everything. I ran into a snag when trying to find a way to host photos with boobies and bing bongs, so I gave up. And days went by. And I did nothing.
This is where I think The Party at Kitty and Stud's mirrors my own life in a way. The plot revolves around Stud, played by our hero, as a man who seemingly lacks direction in life. There is no mention of what Stud does for a living or how he can afford the somewhat decent looking apartment that he shares with Kitty. Together, Kitty and Stud don't do much but sit around their place, get stoned, fuck, have orgies, drink each other's blood (I shit you not), pretend-rape each other, and dance naked in a circle while making faces that one can only assume are supposed to be "O faces".
Ok, so I've never danced around in a circle of nakedness and forest of pubic hair, nor have I ever raped anyone, and unlike Stud, I currently am employed, but the differences end there. You see, I'm a tall, dumb, Italian guy from New York as well. When I should be going out and taking control of my life, I find myself more interested in indulging my inner id.
There is a line uttered by Stallone after the "rape" scene that not only sums up the movie for me, but sums up my life as well. Sitting on a couch next to Kitty and enjoying a post-coital joint, Stud says, "You know, I sometimes once thought I knew a great secret, but somehow I forgot it."
Now, this moment of character development isn't touched upon at all for the rest of the film, but you understand the sentiment. You see, I too used to believe that I knew a great secret, that being the secret of living a happy life. Somewhere along the way, probably high school, my priorites switched from having a successful career to being concerned with sex, drugs, and rock & roll. Like Stud, I've forgotten my purpose in this world.
If any of you out there are actually interested in watching The Party at Kitty & Stud's, here are some things you should know. First of all, everything about it illustrates the low budget nature of the film. The acting is bad, the sets look cheap, and I'm not even sure there was any editing done. It looks more like the film was just shot in sequence because no one on the crew knew how to work an editing machine. Stallone gives it his all, even with the bad lines, and the fact that his cock is constantly in plain view, he still delivers a confident performance. Except for the sex scenes. You can tell that they probably had just met 5 minutes before they started shooting.
It's softcore, so you don't see any penetration, but what's funny is that the sex is so fake that in one scene, you can pretty much see this guy's dick flopping around as he's supposed to be having sex with one of Kitty's friends. And when Stallone climaxes, he makes the same, "YEEAARGH!" that he does when getting punched in the face in Rocky movies. It's pretty funny.
I found the women to be unarousing at best. Their bodies are alright. This was the early seventies, back when having a little junk in your trunk was a good thing, but the buzzkill is the pubic hair. There is LOTS of it. I mean, an infinite amount. Now, I'm all for a little bush on women. There's nothing wrong with that. Girls that are completely shaved creep me out because it makes me feel like I'm having sex with a girl that hasn't hit puberty yet. Not cool. What's wrong here is that there is just too much. You could practically lift these girls up by their crotch hair using your teeth. And oral? Bring a machete.
All in all, while the film was an interesting curiosity to behold, I can't say that I would recommend it to everyone. If you want the novelty of seeing Stallone's flabby-habby-babby, then knock yourself out. If you like hairy girls, rent this with the quickness. If you're looking for porn to get off on or a cinematic masterpiece to write your honor's thesis on, forget about it.
Still, I walked away from this film with a sense of purpose. What that purpose is remains to be seen.
