Falconhead 2: The maneaters, Full movie (1983)

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Description: Falcon Head Two is literally brimming with the most elaborate all - male fantasies ever staged. From Leather masters to exotic tropical locales, this best-selling sequal to the acclaimed Falcon Head has a little something for everyong!
Scene Breakdowns
Scene 1. Paul Barresi, Rick Taylor
Scene 2. Brad Mason, guy
Scene 3. guy
Scene 4. Brad Mason, Steve Collins
Scene 5. 2 guys
Review:
I had this on VHS umpteen years ago, watched it twice, and couldn’t make head or tail of it. Eventually, I gave it away. Now that it has been released on DVD I thought that perhaps I might have grown wiser with age so decided to watch it again. Well, I was just as befogged as before. Some of the problem may lie in the fact that I’ve never seen “FALCONHEAD ONE”, but I doubt it. It’s one weird fucking flick.It begins with Paul Barressi wearing a falcon’s head and a leather jock out in the wild. Smoke crosses the scene and Paul can now be seen jacking his cock to climax. It seems to baptize an attractive blond Rick Taylor whose dream it was. As he showers we hear him say “I dreamt a guy with a falcon head masturbated on me.”
Paul now appears in his bathroom (minus the falcon head) and enlists Rick to go bring back his (Paul’s) lover from the falcon’s clutches. He explains:
“The falconhead is a creature that captures narcissistic men through the mirror and keeps them prisoner until they are capable of loving someone other than themselves.”
(Why Paul wants such a person back is never understood. Unless he’s a masochist, I can’t understand it.)

Rick and the viewer head off to a bizarre costume party that looks like something out of Fellini if Fellini were on drugs. We hear narration throughout the film that seems to explain things but actually only makes things more confusing. (Sort of like George W. attempting to explain the Book of Revelations.) “Their cocks are identical so it’s like making love to themselves,” a speaker pedantically intones as Brad Mason has his cock sucked by a handsome young blond in Roman getup. Brad then sucks the blond and the blond fucks him.

A lyrical scene follows. A blindfolded blond Adonis dressed entirely in white pricks his finger on a solitary rose. He removes the blindfold and eats part of the rose. It’s a photo shoot. The Adonis removes his shirt to reveal a lightly haired chest. Dropping his pants, he rubs a rose petal over delectable buns. He plays with his cut cock which is thick in the middle. A bit unusual but suckable. It’s a slow visual poem on self-love. The cock swells to surprising proportions and becomes a creamy fountain. We now notice that the subject and the photographer are one and the same!

Well, the preceding was rather nice but now we are back in the world of ugly bearded transvestites. Until we see Steve Collins, a mustachioed clone of the seventies, leaning on a mantle and staring into the mirror. He is wearing a tuxedo with a red cummerbund. He rings a bell on the mantle and a figure wearing a falcon-like half hood appears with a snifter of brandy on a tray. The half-mask is removed to reveal Brad Mason whom we saw earlier. (Brad too—another gay of the seventies—has a mustache.) Brad kneels and sucks Steve’s cock. Rick watches from afar. When we return to Steve and Brad, a naked Brad stops sucking cock. He turns around, spreads his legs, and, resting his hands on the floor, offers Steve his upturned butt to fuck. After cumming on the small of Brad’s back, Steve strips off his tux. Zingo! Brad is now wearing the tux with its red cummerbund and leaning on the mantel staring into the mirror. He rings a bell on the mantle and a figure wearing a falcon-like half hood appears with a snifter of brandy on a tray. Beneath the half-mask we recognize Steve.

What follows now I have dubbed ‘Ode to a Motorcycle’. As a disembodied voice drone on in meaningless twaddle, a guy licks his reflection in the polished surface of his motorcycle while a guy lying on the dirt floor is getting his fingers shoved up his ass and getting fucked.

A perfectly hideous transvestite (even by German dungeon standards) engages Rick in some sort of conversation and then tells him that since he has resisted the seduction (which surely wasn’t difficult) he is allowed to proceed. But here it ends! What the fuck!

As strange and pretentious as a Ken Russell film and as decadent as Fellini’s “Satyricon” FALCONHEAD TWO is a hallucinogenic poem. It won’t get you off unless you are eating those mushrooms too, but it’s highly erotic. It’s interesting. It’s different. And it’s probably art. But does it transcend its time?

Then too what’s wrong with narcissism? As Oscar Wilde observed, “The man who is in love with himself is in for a lifelong affair.”

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