Yes, This is My Friday the 13th Post: The Anal Dwarf (1971)(NSFW)

Look, it’s a known fact that we on the Liberal Dead are not afraid of pornography. We did a month on the stuff, for chrissakes, and since then we’ve shown that it doesn’t have to be horror porn—just something of the “weird vibes” sort. I myself dig rareness and beaten-up film prints, so where do I turn? The Anal Dwarf, natch. Brief, fragmentary, beaten-to-hell, and super-rare, this movie may be just what I just happened to randomly ask for on a shallow and dark Friday the 13th. For all the wrong reasons, too.

So there’s this lady, whom I’m informed is “Vera Knotty” (cute) a porn star of some regard. She is very well-endowed and wears leggings with garters. She masturbates a little, and then a Little Person who is spying on her comes down and fingers her. She seems to be, from what I can make out (ha) from the doomed video, in some sort of post office back-room, or maybe a train-station office. She then sucks his dick, and he’s not only small in stature—drifts are easily gotten here—but that’s okay. Then, we get to the anal, which takes up the most time out of this nine-minute loop. She sucks him off afterward with bizarrely frantic energy, and he cums. The loop cuts out. The end.

The Anal Dwarf—being a simple nine-minute porn loop—has very little aesthetic or artistic value that can be anal(ha)yzed. All the same, one can make an effort. Taking a look at the film quality—which is visible from those beautiful screenshots—one can see that ultimately said quality is not very gorgeous. But it is appealing. The punched-to-the-grave-and-pissed-on-by-Ogroff look of the stuff is a godsend for trash lovers like me; and it’s a porno, no less. There isn’t much sleazier for a Sleazemonger. (Sleazemonger membership cards printed in limited edition, via M. Butcher-Shitter, Esq.) The exploitation oozes like sex juices because we’ve got a former Munchkin future Ewok present here. Most intriguingly, those are some weird-looking genitals. Don’t believe me? I’ve got a screenshot down below. It’s a plotless mess of horrifically disgusting flesh, Little Person cash-checks, and near invisibility on all angles. How could you go right?

I’m sure there are those wondering what sort of sick pervert I am for watching this garbage. Well, I’m kind of at a stage in my life where, as age mounts alongside pain, I am getting out of control. I don’t embrace it but nonetheless the cinema comes—like a grim dead marching band, trying to nag me into a cheap, naughty sell, or cell, whichever, with its magic…this movie is about as low as my mind will sink. And I do swear before God it is for the rarity that I do this. Additionally, for satire. Gotcha. There is no Jason here. Only grotesque bottom-barrel hardcore garbage.

The point I think of the perpetuation of the myth of The Anal Dwarf—indeed, a rather famous film, placed on tape by private request by the tragically-deceased Blackest Heart Media if one were to order one of their films—is to show that it really is the small weird things that matter. No, that is not a Little Person pun. Certainly Herr A. Dwarf has a small weird thing, but wordplay must be ignored. The fact of the matter is that these movies—the ones I love and the ones that I am not alone in chasing—endure and survive and prosper. For the trashophile, there will always be room for snippets of shattered print like The Anal Dwarf. The great movies tumble into the background (what person these days takes time for The 400 Blows or Manhattan?) but there is always somewhere where crap lives on, for eternity perhaps. Or perhaps not—there are so many movies which I would want to see had they been able to make it past the tests of even a few months worth of time. Through weirdness, through word-of-mouth and fairytale, trash is immortal. Bile fascination is what it’s called, really—the focus on the bizarre and the disturbed, and on the mad and the strange. The cinematic urban legend.

It is thus that I open my contributions for 2012—with the expressed knowledge that even beyond intent, it is what is “poorly made” that lives while greatness is sucked into a black hole. It’s not a bad thing—it’s not a good thing. Humans are sleazy and we cannot wash away our exploitative, gory, STD-infested side. I for one live on in that fantasy with nihilism. Journalism requires passivity in emotion, and I hope to deliver that in my glimpse of nonchalance.

The Anal Dwarf opens 2012. I don’t know what will close it.

We’ll just have to sit and find out.