Brad Armstrong demonstrates his vaunted ability to make a porn film play like a real movie in this Julia Ann vehicle for Wicked Pictures, but his violation of one of the most basic directives taught at film school severely limits the result.
His screenplay in collaboration with a big-deal guy Charles W. Bailey (slumming in porn) dispenses with dialog, instead having the show heavily narrated in voice-over of a letter (to her husband) and passages from her journal recited by Julia. She has flown the coop, leaving her better half to sit there and glumly read her confessions for an hour and a half of flashback-laden running time.
So the "don't do that!" crutch of voice-over, which any film professor admonishes the student to avoid, is instead stretched to the extreme, rendering the action flat and monotonous. Of course, the XXX action by Julian and other actresses Lezley Zen, Nicole Sheridan and a lovely newcomer "Lonnie", makes up for this bad decision on Brad's part.
The great man (Brad, of course) deigns to show up on screen as a stud humping Zen, one of the perks of being the man in charge.
It all leads to a downbeat ending, which combined with the absence of dialog and character interaction among the obviously intimate players will have the viewer wondering at the conclusion: "Is that all there is?", to quote Peggy Lee's famous downer of a song, no more a downer than this movie.
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