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The Donor
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I stumbled upon an unknown gem on midday broadcast TV: The Donor, directed by the prolific Damian Lee, and starring would-be action hunk Jeff Wincott as Billy Castal. For its opening 10 minutes, it is nothing but a parade of perfect bodies involved in extreme sports and passionate sex. But, the morning after his conquest of a stunning blonde named Angel (Christina Cox) who he picked up in bar, Billy awakes in an ecstasy that soon turns to terror once he looks below to where we cannot see – and realises that something vital is missing … The absent organ turns out to be (you guessed wrong) a kidney – but the side effects of this impromptu surgery turn out to be more psychological than physical. Whenever Billy is set to roll around with another foxy lady, his ability to perform is cut short by hallucinatory flashbacks that frantically intercut images of his one-nighter undressing – and then holding aloft a scary, hypodermic needle. Billy will soon become a lone vigilante trying to destroy a nefarious, underground cartel that trades in vital organs. But this is mere peanuts compared to the real trauma with which he must grapple. Reduced to attending a therapy group for disparate “survivors”, Billy glances through a window at the gathered assembly of maimed, cowed, “imperfect” bodies like his own – and flees in disgust! Perhaps the 2002 TV commercial showing soccer star Pele basking in the applause from a packed stadium as he urges guys to break the silence about their erection problems – “Talk to your doctor. I would!” – might have helped Billy. However, when it comes to male troubles, that primal image of a woman wielding a needle proves mighty hard to erase. © Adrian Martin July 2002 |
