If Edgar Allan Poe had been a Hollywood screenwriter, he'd have probably drunk himself to death a lot sooner than he did. With rare exceptions, Poe, for all the stark brilliance he packs in his morbid emotional baggage, has never gotten a decent break when it comes to translating his stories to the silver screen.

Not that you'd expect him to be bragging to Vincent Price on the spirit world internet anyway, but even Poe'd have to admit an adult movie has done him justice. Sporting a face Poe would love, the atmosphere of Twisted is deliciously dark-and-stormy-night-macabre. And the action, once we get the skull rolling, doesn't mince words, getting to the point quicker than a knife in a throat. Aptly titled, the film lives up to its name persuasively and humorously. Four of Poe's tales plus a poem are redressed in handsome contemporary sets and given the ol' 20th century sexual spin-o-roo. Not that it takes a genius to read sexual spin-o-roo in Poe's tales to begin with.

In a tongue-in-cheek paean to "The Raven," spook author Tony Tedeschi, as a Crypt Keeper-type host, moans and groans about having to write in the shadows of Stephen King. Here's a hint, Tony: get a word processor. Quill pens are a bitch when it comes to cranking out 900-page paperbacks.

The first vignette is a creepy take on Poe's "The Black Cat," with T.T. Boy and Alex Sanders assuming reasonable recourse to have energetic intercourse with Krista Maze in a dark mansion. Of course, this sets the stage for the typical Poe-ending. Not bad at all.

Bound by an unspoken Geneva Convention that restricts violence in adult films and a budget that would prohibit the effective use of it anyway, Poe's "The Pit and the Pendulum" becomes an exceptional strap-on, in-the-ass lesbian interro-gation sequence with Farrah and Sindee Coxx. Johnni Black then takes it royalty in the ass, as only she can, in a claustrophobic scenario that pits fellow scientists Peter North, Kaitlyn Ashley and J.J. Michaels in a beat-the-clock-struggle against a virus.

The inevitable car-breaks-down gambit makes a pleasant discovery in the kind of dementia Wilde Oscar can be capable of. Looking like a member of Devo, Oscar, in a nominations-worthy role, presides over a house where startled motorist Farrah discovers Nici Sterling chained to a bed. "A toast to life's inconveniences," says Oscar in the droll manner of an anal technician about to go to work.

Even if your taste doesn't necessarily gravitate to the supernatural, one can't help but appreciate the off-kilter moods, subtleties and inside jokes that director Noir has lent the sexual cause. Poe would drink to that, and you wouldn't have to twist his arm.