Much like the variable essences of writing, editing can do many things. I could choose to write in an amiably fashionable writing structure or ditch that futile effort for an elastic case of sarcasm. Editing, much like sentence structuring, is a battle of visual metaphors. Chico Wang ultimately decided to go with a "horror theme" to suit this video of Amber Rayne's psychosis. Apparently after a "backdoor problem", Amber Rayne auctioned the idea of feverishly screaming for bukkake in her eyes. While you might be thinking "mAQ, this sounds completely normal on a plane coexisting with Japanese porn". Fear not, this provides a bit of intentional dementia that could only be clinically consoled as a fit of Tourette's syndrome.
The synopsis (or what?) goes as such. Amber Rayne lies on the ground in an unmoving stance. The carpet beckons your attention but this cannot be divulged as she's prying her eyes open in an A Clockwork Orange fashion. She starts foaming at the mouth screaming and taunting begging for a load in her eye. Suit follows and she wants more. She starts throwing humility at the cameraman screaming for more. She declares "I'm seeing fuzz but I can still see straight! MORE CUM". If this doesn't intimidate the average male, I wouldn't know what would. The attempts of fingering her are deemed useless as she seems unphased by these physical attempts of pleasuring her but she's beyond any form of connectivity of human life.
The uber-bizarre takes a turn as soon as she begins communicating with the cameraman. Tempting her, he begins singing a soft lullaby "Cannnn youuu call meee sweetheaarttt?". Allured by his soft voice, she follows with a bravado number bringing to mind the musical number seen in Buffalo '66. Both battle for the weirdest context of a musical number but this introduction video takes the ad-libbed cake. Thanks entirely to the sombre piano theme, Can You Call Me Sweetheart? maintains an almost Lynchian vibe of musical surrealism. I'd hate to use "Lynchian" as a term but after the awkward nuclear family scenario pictured in Eraserhead and the Silencio scene in Mulholland Drive, this seems nothing but an offspring. Both works are an instance of the macabre and the mundane being spliced effortlessly, even accidentally, together.
Many thanks roll out to Cheal for introducing me to this video. His promises of something I'd never witnessed before ring true. This clever musing of existential angst beyond the glamour of pornography is a masterstroke by someone who would never appear to be likely to produce art. To quote Pete; "A true auteur work in the crowded field of musical bukkake porn. Can You Call Me Sweetheart? is unheard of, subtle, powerful, menacing, and an experiment in unleashing something abstract amongst unsuspecting viewers. It is absolutely horrifying, disturbing, rewatchable, alienating, and groundbreaking in terms of abstruse film making. Clarity's not allowed here.