Inner Demons aims to explore the psychological disturbances of an S&M-damaged nutjob. Unfortunately, much of the torment lands in the viewer’s laps. Tommy Pistol plays a paunchy sociopath with a penchant for violence and shady business dealings—and a hard-on for his female therapist. Shades of The Sopranos; unfortunately, it’s executed like a clumsy junior-high theater production, with hardcore rutting thrown in. As for the sex, it’s often as painful to watch as it seemingly was to execute. During his slaphappy sexual meanderings, Pistol hooks up with Romi Rain, a brunette with tits like cement-filled balloons and a lipstick-smeared mouth that brings to mind a hyena that’s been feeding on a rotten carcass. Pistol spanks Rain’s tits and tugs at her Silly Putty nipples before she attempts to orally “service” him, running her teeth along his shaft and gnawing at his prick like a chew toy as she foams at the mouth. Forget flogging her—Pistol should have euthanized Rain and then rushed to the emergency room for a rabies shot. At least the dialogue will help you laugh through the tears. Listening to Valley girls trying to speak like analysts (“So you’re jealous of the semantics of it all,” goes one stilted line) is an amusement akin to watching a chimpanzee sitting down at the keyboard to rewrite Shakespeare. To be blunt, Inner Demons will likely scare your prick right back into your pants. —P.D.R.