The Love twins Lacey & Lyndsey starred in innumerable, forgettable Vivid vehicles, often directed by the great Paul Thomas, but lack of talent did in their "twins having sex" hokey career. Girlfriends Films took the plunge with a one-off feature simply titled "Twins" to exploit their limited abilities.
Three hours is a bit much to milk this concept and besides wearing me out it was surprisingly disjointed and illogical by the time the closing curtain finally descended. The twins are youngsters, so young that Lyndsey is still virginal, living in an ill-described cockamamie sort of boarding house presided over by Girlfriends diva Cala Craves.
She is presented as a mother figure to the twins, but sloppily on purpose their relationship is not established, so as to permit crypto-incest when they hit the sack later on. It's the usual role-playing that porn has become famous for.
Opening scene shamelessly indulges in self-plugging as sexually active Lacey's trove of Girlfriends DVDs (plus a book titled "Intimacies Between Women") form a kernel of a plot as both Lyndsey and Cala find them. The corny old saw of opposition to lesbianism (by lesbians) is the crux of what passes for a story.
The household is a joke, just a bunch of bedrooms for humping. Also living on the premises are my favorite Samanthat Ryan, in her blonde period, and superstar from the past Keisha. What they're doing there altogether, while professing not to be lesbians, is anyone's guess.
The five sex scenes vary considerably in quality, though I favored of course the non-twins filler pairing Sam with much older Cala. Big-breasted Cala, who used the stage name Cindy, is an impressive presence and matches up well alongside Sam's uber-beauty.
The main gimmick involves sibling rivalry, with Lacey doing her damnedest to bring sis Lyndsey out of the closet when not just getting her into trouble. Sex scenes, even threesomes, follow the timid pornographers' mode of keeping the twins from doing anything sexual to each other -ironically the only reason these films are made in the first place. Back in the '70s filmmakers like Carter Stevens exploited twins having sex together for furn and profit, but freedom of expression has taken a nosedive since those halcyon times.
A six-minute bonus interview at the end of the film is enlightening in having the twins explain to a giggly Bobbi Starr their situation. They turn out to be fraternal twins, over-emphasizing their physical differences (Lyndsey is taller and heavier) while the outside world can easily tell them apart by the presence of a tattoo on Lacey's lower back. Starr is amused by their twin-bashing, as each says nasty things about her sibling. They have a mean, almost sinister look on their kissers at all times, something I find to be a turnoff, especially since their acting, which might have made villainous use of this characteristic, is so poor.
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