In the twilight of his directing career, David Stanley makes a fool of himself with this ill-begotten vehicle for perhaps Vivid Video's least appealing contract player, plain Jane little Capri Anderson.
I have seen her in numerous lesbian assignments for Girlfriends Films and Gamma Entertainment, but her Vivid career apparently stems solely from her notoriety as a Charlie Sheen girlfriend featured in the tabloids -Vivid has always been on the lookout to cash in on the "celebrity tape" porn market.
But she is singularly unappealing in this torturous exercise, running twice as long as Stanley's clever if slight features for Vivid made a decade earlier. After opening with screen-filling block letter titles (basically crediting himself), David sloppily presents a fantasy of horny Capri receiving a black journal that has magical powers. Whatever she writes in it materializes out of thin air (minor SPFX), and starting with a banana she soon graduates to her dream guy, a miscast Johnny Sins (whose appearance automatically conjures up a hundred Brazzers vignettes he's made, and where he belongs).
Sins is spoken for by Gracie Glam, cast with a pillow under her costume as a girl in advanced stage of pregnancy. The dumb plot, that tries to be sickly romantic and whimsically fantastic, just lays there, advanced by a series of pretentious fade out scenes and the usual tedious humping.
Stanley has another gimmick that fails miserably, casting the Russo Twins in separate segments humping James Deen (Tati Russo) and Barry Scott (Taylor Russo) next door so Capri can hear them and get horny. Later the twins speak in unison when Capri treats them as some sort of sexual oracle.
Also in a central role as Capri's would-be boyfriend is Dane Cross, taking a breather from his MILF-magnet supremacy at this period of his career, and giving a wimpy, terrible performance. It all adds up to 2-1/2 hours of ineptitude, not Stanley's final film but showing definite signs of a has-been hanging on.
Only interesting moment is when Stanley, interrogated by the idiotic questions of Ralph Long in the BTS short subject, recalls the low point of his career, working on gonzo sludge for Rob Black, including a hopefully apocryphal scene of "bloody ass to mouth". 'Nuff said.
I have seen her in numerous lesbian assignments for Girlfriends Films and Gamma Entertainment, but her Vivid career apparently stems solely from her notoriety as a Charlie Sheen girlfriend featured in the tabloids -Vivid has always been on the lookout to cash in on the "celebrity tape" porn market.
But she is singularly unappealing in this torturous exercise, running twice as long as Stanley's clever if slight features for Vivid made a decade earlier. After opening with screen-filling block letter titles (basically crediting himself), David sloppily presents a fantasy of horny Capri receiving a black journal that has magical powers. Whatever she writes in it materializes out of thin air (minor SPFX), and starting with a banana she soon graduates to her dream guy, a miscast Johnny Sins (whose appearance automatically conjures up a hundred Brazzers vignettes he's made, and where he belongs).
Sins is spoken for by Gracie Glam, cast with a pillow under her costume as a girl in advanced stage of pregnancy. The dumb plot, that tries to be sickly romantic and whimsically fantastic, just lays there, advanced by a series of pretentious fade out scenes and the usual tedious humping.
Stanley has another gimmick that fails miserably, casting the Russo Twins in separate segments humping James Deen (Tati Russo) and Barry Scott (Taylor Russo) next door so Capri can hear them and get horny. Later the twins speak in unison when Capri treats them as some sort of sexual oracle.
Also in a central role as Capri's would-be boyfriend is Dane Cross, taking a breather from his MILF-magnet supremacy at this period of his career, and giving a wimpy, terrible performance. It all adds up to 2-1/2 hours of ineptitude, not Stanley's final film but showing definite signs of a has-been hanging on.
Only interesting moment is when Stanley, interrogated by the idiotic questions of Ralph Long in the BTS short subject, recalls the low point of his career, working on gonzo sludge for Rob Black, including a hopefully apocryphal scene of "bloody ass to mouth". 'Nuff said.