outstays its welcome in this arena, though, and unless this is a social experiment on SQIFF’s part to stir our thoughts on audience boundaries, not much else is achieved.

Finally, Scotch Egg is the most technically proficient of the three films. Actor AJ Alexander reappears as a hyper-stereotype, drunkenly spewing out Scots dialect and idioms in a gay leather bar in Berlin. The audience is split at this venture: some laughing hysterically, some confused. Director Bruce LaBruce‘s intention no doubt is to set up the idea of the outsider, further reflected in Alexander’s female counterpart, performer Candy Flip. Her part is that of a straight cis-gender woman who fantasises about experiencing sex as a gay man. So powerful is her desire (and Alexander’s intoxication), that they have sex under an illusory veil. The male character convinces himself he is sleeping with another man and therefore achieves ecstasy, despite the physical reality of the situation. The point, as Alexander unravels in a post-show Q&A, is that our ideas of what we lust after are often more potent than what we literally experience. The film itself is ambiguous, though, and doesn’t necessarily make this clear, arriving to SQIFF with an online trail of controversy around various interpretations of its message.

The short running time of Scotch Porn (65 minutes) is perfectly acceptable. The three pieces provoke us to an extent and create an opportunity to consider our reactions to pornography, particularly in such a communal space, and whether or not it can have more artistic merit than we might at first assume. However, there’s nothing especially transformative here and it feels like the shock and spectacle outweigh anything else.