2 December 2017 | lor_
Underachieving; wasting talented cast
As she notes in the BTS short subject on this forgotten DVD, Carmen Luvana was the first contract star signed by Adam & Eve, a couple of decades after the quality label began producing videos, yet she is ill- served by this clunker, assigned to erstwhile (and competent) cameraman Barry Wood to direct.
It's one of those tiresome "nostalgia" themed vignette shows, with five segments highlighting five different decades from 1940 to 2020. Each one has an abstract set (that's my euphemism for cheap, lacking adequate set decoration or dressing) and featuring rather generic sex, albeit with some minor period elements or costuming.
Luvana gets to hump in the first and last scenes. Opener in 1940 has cheap mannequins supposedly coming to life as Luvana, Nikita Denise and Jeneveve Jolie, oodles of star power simply called upon to look silly in awful wigs, then doffing same having a 3-way Lesbian daisy chain. It's gonzo crap fitted out with great performers who usually commanded real material.
Finale is worse, as the "futuristic" set has a couple of dated looking machines that wouldn't qualify for a Z-level soft-core sci-fi movie, and Evan Stone wearing "futuristic" eyewear and silver slacks humping gorgeous nude android Luvana (her breasts looking amazing) on a gurney. Suffice it to say that Wood's vision of future eroticism is like something out of the '60s.
1962 is represented by music playing that sounds like Elton John's "Crocodile Rock" as accompaniment for Holly Wellin having sex in the kitchen with the big dick of Lee Stone.
1980 is a bit embarrassing, as always overdone Tory Lane has on headphones and is listening to headbanger rock, her body gyrating wildly, when she has to fight with Tommy Gunn for the headgear, and then they hump, including her anal-sex specialty.
Year 2000 is utterly laid-back with a brief monochrome grey sequence combined with the luscious red of Jayna Oso's lipstick and fingernail polish, mere prelude to ho-hum sex with Nick Manning. His inevitable yelling of "Droppin' Loads!" just before depositing his spunk in the form of a facial is the closest to dialog this show can conjure.
