Perhaps I'm a fool. Perhaps I'm not artistic enough. Perhaps I'm too straight. Perhaps I'm a neanderthal. Perhaps I have no soul. But I'll be damned if I have any frickin' clue what Vinny D'Onofrio, Salma "Anti-Lopez" Hayek and Olivia d'Abo were doing in this film. Or even what I was doing watching it. Or what it all meant. Or why Vinny looked like he was trying to eat that guy's face when he kissed him. It's all gone wrong.So Le Nofrio is like this long haired fat homeless porno actor called Valentino. Salma sells donuts and digs The 'Nof. Garry is a Jon Voight/Midnight Cowboy-ish hick just new in town who saves a Loretta Lynn wannabe transvestite from a beating at the hands of predictably stereotypical latino thugs, while falling in love (also) with The 'Nof. Olivia D'Abo is a porn actress with cool sunglasses who loves... guess.
The transvestite meets an untimely demise, everybody kisses a lot and grabs butt cheeks, an old dance instructor crones away for a few minutes, some more tranny's wander around in the background for comedy value of the kind of standard as, say, a mixture between The Birdcage and Sprung ("Step off, girlfriend!") and people spout the kind of dimestore philosophy that you'd read over a urinal and promptly piss on.
It's cheaply constructed, cheaply acted, cheaply written, the jokes are cheap, the artistry is strained and the porn is absent.
Which kind of leaves nothing worth anything.This is the sort of self indulgent crap that Ethan Hawke might have directed, or Alicia Silverstone might have produced. "We're big name actors, we get paid a lot, we can make a movie about anything and it'll get released!" - and promptly avoided like herpes.