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A Pajiba Valentine Involving Badcore Gay Netflix Porno And The Power Of 1313 Friendship

By Brock Wilbur | Film | February 14, 2014 |

By Brock Wilbur | Film | February 14, 2014 |


The internet is a device we created to make our slow suicides seem less obvious. That is why, when the rare positive moment springs from its vile depths, it catches me completely by storm. Such is the case of my friendship with Will Holston.

Born of both responding to a tweet of Joanna Robinson’s several years ago, two strangers recognized their shared Pajiba blood (and a series of Drop Dead Gorgeous quotes in our respective bios) and a beautiful friendship was born. What once was a series of jokes between anonymous internet avatars grew into calls and terrible gift exchanges, culminating in late 2013 with Will flying to LA.

I am not an idiot. Like you, I would never welcome a stranger from the internet to live in my home. Except that I did, and it was, to say the least, a rewarding experience. There is this idea, which I believe is cornerstone in pulling so many of us back to this site, that in a very High Fidelity way “these things matter,” and that maybe more than background or skin or behavior, the elements of pop culture that unite us may mean more than the rest of it put together. Will, a person who I had never even seen a picture of, turned out to be a clever, soft-spoken, indie theater projectionist from Texas, somewhat puzzled at his discovery of me, the only straight man to ever worship Drop Dead Gorgeous. We both took a risk that the other was not a serial killer, or worse, uncomfortably weird. The week we spent together was one of those children’s books about the power of friendship, except no one held hands and there was a lot of gin in place of the frolicking. The trip culminated in a night out at an all male dance club in West Hollywood, where after only six steps into the bar a girl ran from the corner and shouted “You’re Brock Wilbur and you’re straight!” This is, to be sure, the only moment of fame I have ever experienced, timed appropriately to dictate me the odd man out for the rest of the evening. If my name and sexual preference are all that anyone knows about me, I have zero argument. Will missed it, however, as he was making a dollar bill disappear into a boy in the way that a dollar bill could not possibly offer such return in a straight strip club.

The night ended with Will following through on a threat he’d made long ago. Via the Netflixes, Will had become infatuated with the work of director/writer/producer/prodigy David DeCoteau. The man directed genre horror from the late 80’s onward, including 2002’s Wolves of Wall Street (Some Brokers Are A Different Kind Of Animal…) and a couple of Puppet Master films. In the last four years, almost all of his work has been concentrated on a series of softcore gay porn horror titles, all kept within the “1313” brand.

Here’s what makes DeCoteau’s 1313 badcore gay porno films exceptional: they are the kind of unrealistic factory floor phantasmagoria awful Ed Wood couldn’t phone in on his worst day. Here is the outline of every. single. one.

Shirtless Boy enters a house.

This house is David DeCoteau’s house. It is always David DeCoteau’s house.

David DeCoteau’s house is unmistakable for anything else, based on its decorations, including a sports car that has been disassembled into some chairs and wall furniture, some sculpture that belongs in the Beetlejuice house, an outdoor pool, an odd stairwell, a balcony, and a workout room with exactly five machines.

Shirtless Boy wanders the house shouting “Hello?” and slowly moving room to room for nearly ten minutes while the same sound effect of a heart beat plays loudly underneath.

The Bad Thing of the episode kills Shirtless Boy.

Title screen.

A new Shirtless Boy enters David DeCoteau’s house.

He meets a group of other Shirtless Boys.

They swim in the pool, playfully splashing, but in a competitive manner, to setup their interpersonal struggles.

A Shirtless Boy wanders the rooms of David DeCoteau’s house, which is suddenly empty. He will move so slowly you can barely tell he is moving. Sometimes he looks for an unknown other person, sometimes he does this traveling silently, but always walking down the same hallways multiple times, even within the same shot.

Shirtless Boy dies. Since violence would cost too much, this is usually conveyed with a look or simply the cessation of the heartbeat sound effect.

Conversations are had. Most are about “Fronting.” Eyelines don’t match and most characters shift back and forth like nervous spelling bee contestants. Someone says something upsetting and the entire cast responds by putting on tighty whities.

A new Shirtless Boy will enter the house, which is suddenly abandoned. He will take a shower, scrubbing his abs but never using soap.

He will then wander the halls and be killed.

One of the Shirtless Boys already established (or a new one) will enter the house, become confused/frightened by its empty nature, and workout on the same piece of exercise machinery while we view close-ups of his tummy until he gets confused/frightened and leaves to get deaded.

Repeat until all of the Shirtless Boys are dead.

Sometimes there is a woman, usually a sexually motivated older lady, representing the dangers of heterosexuality. She is a monster but cannot be stopped, just like the creeping dread of heterosexuality.

One of the final boys pauses too long, examining a framed movie poster in the hall from one of DeCoteau’s earlier films. This boy either dies or lives, but never has control over the situation.

The Bad Thing is vanquished or not.

A Shirtless Boy enters the house. “Hello? Hello? Hello?”

The End.

———


The first of the 1313 films Will forced me to watch was 1313: Actor Slash Model, about a slasher in the house who hated models that thought they could act, or maybe vice versa; it couldn’t possibly matter. I have never laughed so hard at the mere idea a film existed.

While I thought I was safe, a weird tradition was born, in which if either of us are awake and drunk, the other can be dared into co-watching a 1313 film. This is how I have since dealt with 1313: Haunted Frat, 1313: Cougar Cult, 1313: Bigfoot Island, 1313: Giant Killer Bees, 1313: Frankenqueen, 1313: Bermuda Triangle, and his masterpiece A Talking Cat?!? While Actor Slash Model was my first and always holds a special place in my heart, 1313: Hercules Unbound! is an incredible outing for the series, replacing the long walking shots with up-loincloth shots of boys flexing for fifteen minutes at a time (we have to hit 90 minutes somehow!) and for trying to pass off DeCoteau’s house as MOUNT OLYMPUS. Come for the swordplay, stay for the Canadian twinks with Chinese character tramp stamps pretending to be characters from Greek mythology.

Our approach, this toxic mix of boxed wine, Facebook, and Netflix softcore gay indie porno horror, epitomizes for me everything that makes a Pajiban relationship. So with Valentine’s Day approaching, it felt like a requirement I write something to immortalize my love for my Pajiba Valentine.

Happy Valentine’s Day. Especially to you, Will.

Brock Wilbur is a stand-up comedian, writer, director, and actor. You can check out his website for a listing of all his work, check YouTube for stand-up acts, or follow him on Twitter.