Analogies

A Grotesque Symphony of Vulnerability:

The Anatomy of Taboo seen through Seven Mirrors.

The collaboration between Domiziano Christopharo, Jon Devlin, and five other visionary artists—Adam Ford, Jake Valentine, Emanuele Marchetto, Pete Lankston, and Tibor Astor—once again brings to the screen a blend of provocation and reflection.

If “Phallacies” explored the objectification of the male body through an unapologetically artistic dicksploitation lens, “Analogies” pushes the boundaries even further—turning its gaze to the human back door.

A part of the body most pretend not to have; one that provokes both discomfort and pleasure, yet remains one of our most fundamental and taboo features.

“Analogies” is an anthology of seven short films, each distinct in tone, story, and visual approach.

There’s a clear sense of growth from “Phallacies”—not a reinvention, but a refinement. Christopharoand Devlin elevate their artistry, transforming defiance into philosophical meditation.

The film opens with The Anus Prophet, a surreal prologue that becomes a thread throughout the anthology. It reminds us that interpretation is everything—that what follows is neither pornography nor mere provocation, but an invitation to confront our own discomfort.

Discomfort, repulsion, and the occasional dark smile are inevitable, yet behind the shock lies something far more human and disquieting. Eroticism and obscenity become vessels for vulnerability—a dialogue between desire and disgust, faith and flesh.

Religious symbolism, conspiracy, cannibalism, social media obsession, mental health, and primal fearintertwine into a grotesque yet fascinating, visceral experience.

The result is an arthouse journey that feels both deeply personal and unnervingly universal.

It all begins with Emanuele Marchetto’s “Just Breath,” a perfect introduction—a fever dream deeply connected to our subconscious and to the alienation of our time.

Following this segment, I couldn’t help but think that the anus has often appeared as a kind of cinematic “Easter egg”—if I may call it that—in countless films, sometimes subtly, sometimes rather explicitly.

Returning to my earlier reflection on religion: if the body is a temple created in God’s image, why do certain parts of it remain so obscene to most people?

Religion and mythology, after all, are not so far apart, and “Analogies” cleverly fuses these notions in several of its segments.

We see this most clearly in Tibor Astor’s “Last Passage,” where a man literally explores another man’s black pouch—a metaphor as literal as it is psychological.

The anthology also weaves in elements of conspiracy—perhaps not always directly tied to the subject, yet evocative of the darker voids society prefers to ignore.

This is portrayed masterfully, with surreal humor, in Jon Devlin’s “Celestial Seed.” With him, you can’t go wrong when it comes to mixing discomfort and laughter.

From conspiracy to paranoia is just a step away, and the closing act—Domiziano Christopharo’s “The Night Guest”—is the perfect incarnation of his exquisitely art-provoking imagery: a man becoming obsessed with his own anus.

Consider, for instance, the recurring discourse on dwindling food resources, and the unnerving fascination of films and literature that propose human flesh as a possible substitute—perfectly realized in Jake Valentine’s “Defiled,” where graphic imagery and defiance challenge both the viewer’s eyes and mind.

Or the digital-era fetishism with the body—more pervasive than ever—where the objectification and loneliness once confined to magazines, cinema, and TV have now become aggressive, omnipresent, and algorithmically fed through social media.

This theme is explored by Adam Ford’s “Vox Anus,” creating a direct sequel to his segment in “Phallacies” and placing it within a social context defined by appearance and isolation.

Pete Lankston’s “No Exit” gives voice to that very private and personal part of both our and his body, finding a perfect balance between horror and emotion in its intimate exploration.

The anthology’s title immediately struck me in this sense: a bridge between the analogue and the anatomical, between the symbolic body and the mediated one.

When the foundations come from a place of sincerity and courage, the outcome can only be one thing—an intriguing, grotesque, and hauntingly honest journey into the human black abyss.

“Analogies” doesn’t seek to shock—it seeks to liberate the gaze, forcing us to confront what we’d rather deny. In doing so, it redefines the boundaries of the body and the screen alike.

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Phallacies + Analogies