The porn is green for me as a septuagenarian living in Los Angeles and looking for ways to make ends meet. Here’s how I recently got into the adult film industry: my wife and I oversee a pretty lad who introduced us to his new girl friend for our approval.  Amazonian and almost 7 feet tall in her platform shoes, she wore a see-through blouse and behaved like Greta Garbo in glasses. Over cocktails, out of politeness, I asked, “What’s your line?” The lad said, “You’ll have to take your shirt off to work for Monica”. The woman cut in: ”I make porn films and am proud of it. I don’t want to be David Lean!” While my wife was in the powder room Monica leaned in and said, “You have an interestingly-lined face, much better than all the blancmange I deal with”. She invited me to do some character acting for her. Regina returned and approved the pay rate.

       Monica, in her mid thirties, has a string of companies covering the gamut of customer taste from straight right on through queer, lesbo, and spankeroo. The “performers” take care of the sex action; the “actors” keep the story going. Monica believes in strong plots. My debut script from her filled three pages of dialog with side bits stating: “ Here Ian does funny stuff and sings a song”. She knew I’d been a pop star long ago. The location was a Victorian gingerbread mansion on Pasadena, near our house.

       I played the father of a son who brings home his fiancée to meet the parents. At the dinner table I improvised lines about queers on beaches and then, with ukulele in hand, led everybody in a chorus of  “Have A Martini!” The sex actors were too preoccupied with getting their bodies ready for the important action to appreciate my song. A storm comes up and my screen wife and I invite the fiancée to stay the night. End of my part: I got a cheque for $500 and left for dinner with my real wife. On the way out I noticed lots of “baby-wipe” boxes and towels in a bedroom.

       When I saw the finished film, Forbidden Lovers, I found out what the gimmick was: during the storm the boy and girl retire to the bedroom where he discovers she’s half a woman upstairs and half a man downstairs. He finds this attractive and the action begins. They certainly have at it for ages—20 minutes or so. Outside of my experience. This is what’s called a trannie genre production.

        Monica promised me a great role for the next film—a period melodrama, His Mother’s Lover, set in an English boarding school. I would play the Headmaster and if I agreed to thrash a boy she’d pay me extra. Would I? You betcha! This was an opportunity to turn the tables on the master who beat me at prep school. He’s long dead but that didn’t matter. I lent authenticity to the set by providing framed photos of my school group from 1950. I even wore the old school tie. I coached the boy actors in their accents. Monica was very impressed. “This will be my grand oeuvre, my masterwork,” she said. “This will garner awards”

       We shot the film at an actual studio at the far end of the San Fernando Valley, miles away from Hollywood. All the decent adult films are made here. It’s a big burgeoning business with offices and secretaries and batteries of lawyers. The films are available all over the world, especially on hotel TVs, and they can make more money than many regular Hollywood productions.

       Carpenters were still hammering away at my headmaster’s study set when I arrived for my call. So I studied my lines and took a peek at a sex scene being shot on a tool room set. All rather mechanistic—two naughty boys in school uniforms—and as usual taking such a long time. Monica had surrounded the lads with her three poking cameramen and a boom mike operator so there wasn’t much hope for passion.

       At last it came time for my big study scene in which I reprimand the star boy for dirty deeds in the tool room and then climax with a thrashing. The scene was lit like a Humphrey Bogart film noir. I was ready with some funny quips and maybe a ukulele song to round matters off. No, no, said Monica, stopping the shooting right after it began. “This is serious, this is art. You are a  nasty man and you must act like one!”  She proceeded to feed me my lines. I felt like a fool--- but I administered the thrashing rather well. Too well: “Aim lower” protested the boy. “You’re hitting my ball-sack”. “Better than hitting your Proust”, I replied but nobody got the joke. Monica told me to stick to the script. When I sought sympathy from the lighting cameraman he said, “Don’t complain. We’re lucky to be here. I haven’t had this much work since Titanic”

       But Monica must have liked my work because she had me on two more shoots—a barman in a lesbian film and another father in a multiple orgy one. I’ve started getting noticed in this other world of entertainment. Here’s an online review by Apache Warrior: “I totally enjoyed seeing Ian Whitcomb again. He’s an amazing character actor with flawless delivery. With him around, he makes every person on the set want to be better. Quite frankly he lifts everyone’s game. We should see more of him”. Monica emailed me to say ask whether I’m ready to reveal the full Monty in her new geriatric genre company, Senior Candy Films. Regina commandeered the computer: “Over my dead body, Monica!” She hasn’t seen what I’m being offered as payment. We could afford to holiday in London and stay at the Savoy and see the Changing of the Guard.

Ian Whitcomb is a highly respected performer, composer, and music historian. You can find all of his CD's, DVD's, Books, and Songbooks by clicking here.

 
You can find Ian's main website at ianwhitcomb.com