Reviews of rubbish films: 1) Dogging

For reasons we needn't go into here I have found myself being tortured with low-quality British films. This one is an exercise in barrel-scraping: Dogging: A Love Story.

Here's my favourite review. In its entirety:

I can’t recommend this – it is entirely about grotty, voyeuristic sex in various Newcastle car parks – but it’s not as dismal as you might imagine. Luke Treadaway’s nosy journalist is a wet blanket of a hero, but Richard Riddell is riotously funny as his gross friend Rob, and Michael Socha also quite good as a happy-go-lucky pimp on the make. These are the silver linings in a feeble smut-fest of impressive tonal weirdness, which had me sniggering with it, at it, and in spite of myself.

He's dead right about Richard Riddell, whose slimy estate agent is an exuberant character of some genius:

The film, though, is a sprawling mess: I love it that the best thing the critic can find to say about it is that "it’s not as dismal as you might imagine".

In truth, despite my lustful thoughts over this Treadaway Twin (I'd do either of them, honest. Or both), it really is "a feeble smut-fest of impressive tonal weirdness".

And there's nowhere near enough sex in it.

PS: Someone's asked if there's full frontal. The shocking, outrageous answer is no, there is not. This is as close as it gets:

I mean, he's very cute and all, but couldn't we have at least had some cock? Or, at least, more than this next picture with the "is it or isn't it" shadowy beige blob:

For Treadaway knob the best source I can think of (assuming the twins are in fact interchangable) is Clapham Junction. Though, now I come to think of it, I'm not sure there was any Treadaway todger in that, either. Damn it all.