This might not be the worst adult video ever made, but that's open for debate. As this two-hour-plus road-rash of a tape vomits itself onto your screen, you might find yourself thinking that if Mike Judge and Hal Needham got together to make a porn movie, this is probably what would result.
First, imagine that Beavis and Butt-head are real people. Now imagine that you have to watch them fucking. Or rather, trying to fuck. For almost forty minutes.
You get the idea.
Sin-A-Matic 4 introduces the viewer to two of the least-appealing pseudo-celebrities ever to be foisted on the porn-viewing public: a pair of never-was "athletes" from the late-night-on-ESPN2, gee-I-remember-that-from-the-seventies, didn't-know-anyone-still-did-it-sport of moto-cross. Meet legends-in-their-own-minds throttle-jockeys, Don Upton and Faisst (that's pronounced "Feisty," y'all).
If this all seems slightly vitriolic, it's simply the result of having to struggle through the first scene, which features Upton, Faisst, and poor, poor Alex Dane, who's trying her best to make the scene work. In all honesty, it could have, too, except for two factors: Faisst and editing.
Faisst seems to be pathologically incapable of getting hard, unless he's wearing his Walkman. Unfortunately, this leads to him singing along with the music in his head, and shouting back answers to Upton's normal-volume comments. Even the headphones don't seem to help for long. Faisst is just more of a pasta chef than a woodsman.
He also can't stop talking. As the scene progresses, his non-stop, monosyllabic commentary goes from the merely grating to the murderously irritating (his chief bon mot seems to be the phrase "You got it," offered constantly, and for no adequately explained reason).
This might be less obnoxious if this first sex scene didn't run for thirty-eight minutes! For Bob's sake, a really good scene has no business running that long, let alone an un-erotic waking nightmare like this. By the time this scene has finally finished - climaxed is too strong a word - the viewer feels as if a year of his life has slipped away. Warhol's Empire State was more arousing. Even more curious is the fact that the other four scenes all average about eight minutes each. What led director Dough to decide that this particular threeway was the tape's magnum opus is a genuine mystery.
Of the remaining scenes, only Dough's anal pairing with Monique DeMoan registers any heat at all, and that gets ruined by being inter-cut with pointless footage of Beav... Upton & Faisst gearing up to ride. Every other scene falls flat as flat can be.
In betwen the remaining scenes, we get to learn what misogynist pricks our heroes truly are ("I'm gonna go fuck that bitch over there... I hate bitches" -- Upton), and we get to see lots and lots and lots of footage of Upton and Faisst riding around during some Saturday dirt lot fuck-off session. Whew.