DTF: Down to Fornicate. It’s impossible to imagine the eponymous initialism was there from the outset. Doting filmmaker Al Bailey (he played matchmaker for the film’s subject “Christian” and his late wife Charlotte) initially intended a documentary feature on how airplane pilots use dating apps to find true love. From Venice Beach to Hong Kong to Tijuana — there’s even a drunken layover at 6th & L in the Gaslamp — Bailey traverses the globe, foolishly looking to find a replacement wife for his buddy when romance is the last thing on sex addict Christian’s mind.
Legal reasons are cited for Christian’s alias, fogged face, and altered voice. Fact of the matter is, given our flyboy’s vast and sundry displays of sexual deviation, drug abuse, racism, homophobia, and the like, any passenger who recognized Christian entering a cockpit would instantly demand to be placed on another flight. (Hungover Christian repeatedly reassures Bailey that with autopilot, the margin of error is “pretty much zero.”)
Looking to pad the length, Bailey borrows a page or two from the Jackass playbook before wasting time exploring virtual reality as an answer to hypersexual disorder. What began as a playful look at dating among the Tinder set ends with Christian crudely scouring a “Nannies day off” gathering in search of a quick fix between flights. Director and star haven’t spoken since shooting wrapped. One can’t blame Bailey for the split, but as loathsome a creature as Christian is, his third act ultimate betrayal of friendship provided his ex-pal with one helluva climax.
DTF: Down to Fornicate. It’s impossible to imagine the eponymous initialism was there from the outset. Doting filmmaker Al Bailey (he played matchmaker for the film’s subject “Christian” and his late wife Charlotte) initially intended a documentary feature on how airplane pilots use dating apps to find true love. From Venice Beach to Hong Kong to Tijuana — there’s even a drunken layover at 6th & L in the Gaslamp — Bailey traverses the globe, foolishly looking to find a replacement wife for his buddy when romance is the last thing on sex addict Christian’s mind.
Legal reasons are cited for Christian’s alias, fogged face, and altered voice. Fact of the matter is, given our flyboy’s vast and sundry displays of sexual deviation, drug abuse, racism, homophobia, and the like, any passenger who recognized Christian entering a cockpit would instantly demand to be placed on another flight. (Hungover Christian repeatedly reassures Bailey that with autopilot, the margin of error is “pretty much zero.”)
Looking to pad the length, Bailey borrows a page or two from the Jackass playbook before wasting time exploring virtual reality as an answer to hypersexual disorder. What began as a playful look at dating among the Tinder set ends with Christian crudely scouring a “Nannies day off” gathering in search of a quick fix between flights. Director and star haven’t spoken since shooting wrapped. One can’t blame Bailey for the split, but as loathsome a creature as Christian is, his third act ultimate betrayal of friendship provided his ex-pal with one helluva climax.
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