Supersex Review: A Audacious But Uneven Odyssey Into Desire’s Depths

In the annals of carnal chronicles, few figures cast as imposing a shadow as that of Rocco Siffredi, the fabled “Italian Stallion” whose prodigious prowess between the sheets propelled him to international infamy. Netflix has dared to lift the veil on this enigmatic eminence in Supersex, a fictionalized psychological excavation into the tumultuous life forces that sculpted Siffredi into a veritable porn pioneer.

From the penetrating mind of creator Francesca Manieri emerges a sordid yet sumptuous exploration of masculine drive and desire. Loosely inspired by Siffredi’s own reported experiences, the seven-episode saga thrusts viewers into the very depths of the Stallion’s formative rites of debauchery. We bear witness to his metamorphosis from a precocious lad infatuated with the forbidden fruits of the flesh to a legendary adult entertainment auteur whose name incites both adulation and opprobrium in equal measure.

Yet this is no mere prurient catalog of myriad money shots. Beneath the show’s deliriously indecent facade lies a probing character study – a lurid yet lyrical meditation on trauma, masculinity, and the inextricable linkages between love and carnality. With unholy levels of creative license, Manieri charts Siffredi’s turbulent maturation through the shaping forces of his fractured, poverty-stricken clan and the mesmeric specter of his rakish older kinsman, Tommaso.

A Priapic Portrait of Power and Perversion

Siffredi’s saga unfurls through the framing lens of a 2004 Parisian sex convention, where the adult entertainment legend drops a carnal bombshell – his shocking retirement from the industry that spawned his infamy. This inciting incident catalyzes a descent into the salacious wellsprings of Rocco’s formative psyche and sexual awakening.

We first encounter him as young Rocco Tano, a precocious ragamuffin growing up in 1970s Ortona under the warped familial dynamics of his stern yet loving mother Carmela, loutish father Gennaro, and mentally disabled brother Claudio. However, it is the darkly charismatic presence of his roguish older “brother” Tommaso that enraptures Rocco. Tommaso is the lad’s conduit into the dizzying dimensions of machismo, brazenly flaunting his sexual conquests and mesmeric hold over the town’s resident beauty Lucia.

From these potent initiations, the seeds of Rocco’s insatiable carnal obsession are sown. A chance encounter with an X-rated periodical christened “Supersex” unlocks his preternatural talents, with the magazine’s star Gabriel Pontello embodying the hypersexual alien avatar of his fevered reveries. This ignoble baptism propels Rocco along a sordid trajectory of teenage fumblings, underground Parisian sex clubs, and finally, a stratospheric immersion into the debauched realms of the international porn underground.

Tommaso and the eternally unattainable Lucia remain twin specters that haunt Rocco’s picaresque progress from impoverished obscurity to global sex icon immortalized on celluloid. The fiercer his proclivities for the extreme and depraved burn, the more they seem to temper his capacity for tender human connection. Like Saturn devouring his young, Rocco’s relentless peaks of ecstasy fuel a perpetual cycle of alienation from those he craves acceptance and validation.

Delirious Discourses on Desire and Dominance

At its salacious core, Supersex is an uncompromising excavation of male sexuality as an all-consuming force – a primal dynamo that unlocks transcendental planes of ecstasy and oblivion, yet warps and disfigures those enraptured by its siren song. Through Rocco’s feverish descent, creator Manieri lays bare the dizzying nexus where virility, violence, and existential angst intertwine.

Notions of masculinity emerge as contorted masques, with patriarchal figurehead Tommaso embodying equal aspects of seductive charisma and vile misogyny. His callous exploitation of lover Lucia casts a lurid glare on the subjugation of the feminine amid young Rocco’s furtive awakenings. Yet Siffredi’s own gradual conquest of the adult realm evinces how such macho mythologies are inherently self-destructive chimeras built on quicksand pedestals of ego and posturing.

Family emerges as both cradle and crooked mirror for these characters’ desecrated psyches – the fault lines of dysfunction and inheritance that mold then mar the flesh. Rocco’s relationship with his stern yet frail matriarch remains the production’s most delicately handled ellipsis, baring how parental fixations catalyze a gnawing insatiability no amount of corporeal gratification can placate.

Guiding us along this danse macabre is Manieri’s vibrant stylistic bravura, deploying an arsenal of destabilizing techniques to heighten every rupture of flesh and rapture of the mind. Gritty cinéma vérité realism seesaws with oneiric digressions into delirium, sensually enshrined via lush cinematography and retro scoring that conjures the licentious eras of Rocco’s missed-step meanderings.

Ultimately, the series adopts an unflinching gaze towards its most explicit content, avoiding mere lascivious spectacle. The nude forms on display emerge as avatars of something grander – talismanic embodiments of humanity’s basest compulsions, fleetingly sublime yet corrosively empty in isolation. Where Supersex’s contemporaries revel in crass titillation, Manieri holistically integrates these eroticized sequences as disquieting emotional extensions of her leads’ roiling interior realms.

“Get lost in the complex, time-warping narrative of ‘The Beast’ in our The Beast review. Léa Seydoux and George MacKay deliver stunning performances across multiple eras in this ambitious film by Bertrand Bonello.”

Virtuosic Thespian Feats Elevate Carnal Conflagrations

Though Supersex’s elliptical narrative contours and lurid subject matter court controversy, the production’s greatest strengths emerge from its cadre of committed acting talents. At the smoldering epicenter is Alessandro Borghi’s maniacally committed embodiment of Rocco Siffredi, equal parts reptilian charisma and childlike vulnerability.

Tasked with incarnating the enigmatic extremes of this legendary figure across disparate eras, Borghi plunges into the role with an intensity that scorches the screen. His physicality alone is a masterclass – coiled menace one moment as he ravenously conquers another anonymous conquest, haunting fragility the next as he wrestles with the insatiable inner demons fueling his exploits. Crucially, Borghi imbues Rocco with flashes of disarming humanity that counterbalance his more monstrous proclivities.

He is ably counterweighted by Jasmine Trinca’s wonderfully layered turn as the ill-fated Lucia. Sensual yet guarded, Trinca exudes a captivating strength even as the character finds herself exploited and debased, hinting at unseen reserves of perseverance momentarily glimpsed. As Rocco’s pivotal brother figure Tommaso, Adriano Giannini encapsulates smoldering machismo calcifying into corrosive toxicity, delivering a searing portrait of masculinity’s darkest adolescent undercurrents.

The supporting ensemble fully inhabits Manieri’s lurid character ecosystem. Young Marco Fiore is remarkably naturalistic as the adolescent Rocco, while screen veteran Tania Garribba affectingly charts the descent of the Stallion’s beleaguered mother. Even secondary roles like Gabriel Pontello’s cameo as his iconic porn counterpart shine with subtleties that transcend mere impersonation.

Through their immersive commitment, this staggeringly talented ensemble elevates Supersex beyond mere misanthropic fringe spectacle. Each performance courses with the furies of human desperation and desire that shape their creator’s grander meditation on love, lust, and the endless gulfs between them.

Baroque Brilliance Obscured by Squalid Indulgences

For all its delirious formal bravura and thespian commitment, Supersex remains a work of dissonant moral polarities – an endeavor that straddles the line between searing emotional archaeology and rank exploitation. Its greatest triumphs lie in the fearless excavation of its antihero’s shattered psyche and the corrosive compulsions fueling his rise.

As a richly layered character study dissecting masculinity’s most uncompromising extremes, creator Manieri’s vision flagship’s undeniable flashes of baroque brilliance. The unflinching lens afforded Rocco’s traumatic formative years and precipitous immersion into the debauched realms of the adult entertainment underground evinces a bracingly candid portrayal few other producers would dare. Alessandro Borghi’s virtuosic lead performance elevates even the most depraved scenarios to scorching emotional truth.

Yet for every sequence that poetically elucidates the scars that misshape young Rocco’s soul into a sexual dynamo bereft of intimacy, there are just as many squalid detours that feel like empty indulgences in puerile shock value. The production’s fixation on the gratuitously toxic bond between its antihero and brother figure Tommaso gradually eclipses the more compelling psychological brinksmanship powering Siffredi’s arc.

Such narrative stumbles speak to the series’ greater tonal imbalances between prestige arthouse meditation and shamelessly sordid melodrama. Even as Manieri’s baroque stylistic flourishes and searing insights into the frenzies of desire enthrall, she risks subverting her own ambitions with meandering subplots and controversies seemingly grafted on to court titillation rather than elucidation.

The final result is a dazzlingly rendered but utterly uneven descent into the gaping maw of human appetite and desperation. For every rapturous creative peak that transcends its subject’s prurient interests, there are equal valleys of discordant self-indulgence where Supersex lapses into the very strain of misanthropic abjection it initially seemed to critique. A character study of staggering ambition repeatedly undermined by its own impulses.

Erotic Exposé Both Astounds and Appalls

For the discerning viewer ravenous for searing psychological portraiture filtered through the salacious lens of the adult entertainment realm, Supersex will surely slake those lurid appetites. Yet even those averse to such delirious extremes may find themselves transfixed by the production’s intermittent sparks of artful transcendence amidst the squalor.

At its lofty peaks, creator Francesca Manieri’s baroque pseudo-biopic of real-life porn legend Rocco Siffredi emanates the aura of rarefied European art cinema – replete with symbolic resonances, metatextual brinksmanship, and dizzying formal ingenuity. The seamless integration of its most explicit content into psychologically searing character beats evinces a creative ambition that elevates it above tawdry spectacle.

Yet just as often, the very indulgences that catapult Supersex into such delirious creative frontiers become its undoing, lapsing into spurts of gratuitous shock tactics and bloated subplots that hinder its narrative momentum. For every rapturous formal flourish, there is an equal counterbalance of puerile indulgence.

Still, for the tenaciously open-minded connoisseur of controversial character studies, Manieri’s tantric fusion of baroque grandiosity and unrepentant abjection may prove an indelibly disquieting marvel. An odyssey of elaborate debauchery scored to the indelible strains of humanity’s basest compulsions laid crudely, transcendently bare.

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