"A young woman's erotic journey to the city to become a stripper. Booyah!"
You’ve got to love a movie that starts off with an extreme close up of a vagina. Having intimately explored Susan Featherly’s butcher’s window, we can now get started with an actual storyline. That basically means we get to see Featherly picking flowers in a field as a voiceover tells us about her great boyfriend… then we cut to the great boyfriend tooling another woman. Way to set up a story inside thirty seconds while giving us not one, but two sex scenes. Kurosawa would be proud.Next we cut to our heroine driving to the big city where she’d get a job as a stripper, stopping along the way to pick up some ‘experience’ by humping a hitchhiker or two. So much for storyline.
You know what’s funny about softcore made-for-TV films? In these films, nobody ever takes a shirt off, they rip it off instead. Now, I don’t know about you, but even if I was gearing up to schtup Christina Ricci after a night of blue balled smooching, if she decided to rip all the buttons off my shirt in the act of getting at my stuff, I’m going to be pissed. I mean, hell, it takes a lot of messing about to sew a button on a shirt. I don’t know about you, but my shirts are nice – I can’t have the bitches just ripping my shit up because they’re eager to get to ‘Simba’.
If there’s one thing that sets this flick apart from all others of its ilk, it’s that the director is obsessed with his female starlets’ landing strips. I mean, there’s a LOT of borderline hardcore shots in this flick and plenty of nakedness from many different people. It ain’t no American Beauty, but it could well be an American Booty, if you follow what I’m saying.So anyways, Featherly gets naked, Featherly humps a lot, the acting sucks, the writing stinks, the budget equals about sixteen bucks. You do the math.