From Paul McAdory’s extensive essay on James Bidgood’s film “Pink Narcissus” for Metrograph:

Pink Narcissus (1971), Bidgood’s lone realized film, fantasizes about endless erotic fantasizing. With a simple premise—a comely male prostitute (Bobby Kendall) lolls around his apartment and loses himself in amorous visions between visitors—it poses questions like: what if you could jerk off forever? What if you never had to finish a session, or a movie, but could instead live inside one clear to Judgment Day? What if that was heaven, self-contained and self-containing? What if the world never barged in, only blew gently through the window as fragmented sense data for assembly into masturbation material?

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