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Well, maybe not.

Constructed like a behind-the-scenes documentary, the kind that end up as DVD extras by pretentious directors, Actress Apocalypse follows the exploits of ostentatious filmmaker David B. Lincoln the 3rd as he attempts to make his magnum opus. Along for the ride is his goofy horn-dog brother Vance and a ragtag crew of incompetents, and the production is pretty much a disaster from the get-go until Vance comes up with a less-than-inventive use of the casting couch and a much-more-inventive means of dealing with prima donna would-be actresses.

This film is not for everyone, but if you can get past David's grating personality, Vance's in-your-face fratboy sensibilities, and the shrieking profanity spewed by many of the cast, you are in for a good time. This film feels less directed at the mainstream viewers and more of a wish fulfillment for any filmmaker out there (and in this day and age of DV, we are legion) who has troubled deaf heaven with bootless cries while watching his or her personal vision circle the toilet in the hands of incompetent elitists.

It's hard to like most of the characters in this film; that's not the point. Rather, see them as a microcosm for the indy film scene, a cadre of extremist kabuki actors preening for a more esoteric group of fans. It's not always pleasant, but neither is Pasolini's Salo, but that never stopped people for paying $500 for as bootleg disc when Salo was out of print. Actress Apocalypse doesn't even cost 1/20th of that, and it throws in lots of nudity and some steamy girl-on-girl action to boot.

What more could anyone ask?

By 1999, the Tarantino ripoffs were in full swing. This is a movie by a filmmaker who knows a particular style and sticks to it without really bringing anything fresh to the party. If you don't know the premise, go read it on the IMDb page. Suffice to say, the performance by Willem Dafoe as a homosexual Federal investigator is one of the films saving graces. A rather shocking and brutal moment when a cat is accidentally killed (nay, splattered against a wall) was the point where I almost turned this film off. I wish I had. What started out as an interesting premise turned into a rather plodding hike to its somewhat clichéd conclusion.

Salo o le 120 Giornate Di Sodoma is one of those films you can't unwatch. With its sterile, nihilistic themes peppered with random atrocities (rape, torture, consumption of feces), the film is one of the most controversial of its time. In Talk Salo, young Spencer convinces his friend Aaron to watch Salo, an experience that devastates the latter so much that he runs from the house in repulsion and fear. In the conversation that follows, Spencer's motives slowly come into focus, and Aaron's once-detached perspective of the world is reeling from the sucker-punch that Salo has delivered.

As a fan of Salo and of short films in general, I appreciated what Talk Salo was doing. In a global culture saturated with movies, a film like Salo comes along once in a lifetime, challenging us as much with their political statements as their horrifying images. It helps to have seen Salo (or at least read enough about it to "get" it) to appreciate Talk Salo, but it is not necessary. Ultimately, Talk Salo is about those moments in life where everything we thought we believed comes crashing down around us, forcing us to see the world as it really is. Any number of catalysts can bring about those moments; in Aaron's case, it just happens to be a movie.