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X-RATED by David McCumber

X-RATED

The Mitchell Brothers

by David McCumber

Pub Date: Nov. 1st, 1992
ISBN: 0-671-75156-5
Publisher: Simon & Schuster

Adults-only rendition of the lives of two pioneering pornographer-brothers and how one came to murder the other, related in live-wire prose by California journalist McCumber (The San Francisco Examiner, etc.). When Jim Mitchell, 45, shot dead his brother Artie, 43, in 1991, the X-rated film world was stunned: How could this have happened to the dynamic duo of sleaze, who brought the world Ivory Snow-girl Marilyn Chambers and the porn classic Behind the Green Door? Drawing on interviews with the Mitchells' family, friends, and stars, McCumber weaves an unusually lively true-crime chronicle that doubles as a eulogy for innocence lost. For at first, the Mitchells were innocents of a sort, riding the wave of free love that washed over San Francisco in the late 60's, ``having fun'' turning out porn loops and opening up a theater whose troupe of exotic dancers eventually included many disciples of the notorious guru Rajneesh. In 1972, the Mitchells filmed Behind the Green Door for an unheard-of (for a porn film) $60,000; the film grossed $35 million—and everything changed. Though reveling in his new money and power, Jim kept an even keel—but Artie went hog-wild, living life on a manic, sadistically sexual edge, and wallowing in drugs. McCumber traces Artie's descent in rich style, drawing in-depth portraits of the women he used and abused; and the author's snappy writing continues into his coverage of the trial that ensued when Jim, at last half-crazed himself over his brother's madness, pulled the trigger. (Of the prosecutor, McCumber says, ``He looks tough, intense, feral, predatory. Hell, he looks like a vampire.'') Convicted only of manslaughter, today Jim is free on bail, pending appeal. There's a strong moral about the wages of sin here but McCumber doesn't belabor it, instead letting this sad and sleazy story—one of the most gripping yet told about the world of pornography—speak for itself. (Photographs—not seen.)