5 October 2011 | lor_
Shooting porn is no picnic
The anonymous perpetrators of SEX PICNIC had a title, a set of performers and a need to deliver the bare minimum constituting a 1-day wonder. There's as little content here as a string of loops would provide.
Film opens with a car broken down, and its occupants proceed to make love, two by two, outdoors on a succession of handy blankets, platforms, mattresses, whatever. The often-together trio of Rick Cassidy, Cyndee Summers (smaller breast size than usual, early in her career) and Ric Lutze show up, with Ric hiding behind sunglasses yet revealing his identity via his trademark giggle.
The improvised banter is dull and basically nothing happens except sex. At the end of the film the car is running again and everyone piles in.
Along the way the stupid soundtrack is filled with the crummiest Muzak versions possible based on a motley collection of songs, including Aretha Franklin's "I Never Loved a Man", "In the Midnight Hour", "I Heard It Through the Grapevine", "The Windmills of Your Mind", George Harrison's "My Sweet Lord" and finally "Mr. Bojangles".