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By
Giacomo Tramontagna
Subtitled "Hard Core Inmates on the Row,"
Iron Cage is a series of prison vignettes whose comic underpinnings keep breaking through a deceptively gritty veneer. Written and directed with streetwise
bravado by Paul Barresi, this hour-long production doesn't make the most of its strong interracial cast, but its technical standard is high, and it takes some profitable risks. Its best moments are as good as anything the prolific
Barresi has ever unleashed.
The centerpiece is a blistering star turn by Bobby Blake, one of the most charismatic and talented African-American actors in porn. As a bitter, foul-mouthed, invective-spewing condemned man whose time
on death row is running out, Blake taunts guard J.C. Carter with such sentiments as "Motherfucker, you suck my goddamn dick, you punkass jailer" and you feel he means every word. Asked to name his last request,
Blake demands white "bitch" Jason Nikas, billed in the credits as "The Prison Fairy." (In eye makeup, luscious red lipstick, and come-fuck-me hose, Nikas looks like a surlier, blonder version of Helmut Berger in
The Damned.) The three-way that follows, with Carter joining Nikas in Blake's cell, is intense, outrageous, and hot.
You may wish there was more to Blade Thompson's encounter with Max Grand (though there's a nice moment when Grand cracks a smile as Thompson's cock pokes him in the nose). And you wait in vain
for gorgeous Corey Cox to have a sex scene. But the last segment is a potent double-tiered proposition as lifer Paul Morgan is hauled into the office of warden Paul Carrigan for sex, while the still-horny Carter sneaks
into Morgan's empty cell, peers into the freshly-used toilet, sniffs
Morgan's cot, strips, and whacks off. Politically incorrect in an unapologetic, mischievous way,
Iron Cage sums itself up when it ends with a wink at the camera.
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