Blame It on Savanna

I'm winding down in my lengthy survey of the work (or at least a chunk of it, considering how prolific he was) of filmmaker Paul Thomas, the consensus choice for the title of All-Time Greatest Adult Movie Director. He retired several years ago, and this late-vintage Vivid release (that company also retired as far as producing features is concerned) illustrates why.

His heart just ain't in it no more. A vehicle for contract star Savanna Samson, no more, no less, but slovenly made and completely uninteresting. Any hack on the payroll could have churned it out, say B. Skow as the most obvious crew member at the time on the sinking Vivid ship.

PT also wrote this turkey, with Samson frequently turning to the camera to lay some dumb and ultra-cynical attitude on the hapless viewer. She finds her life (the fictional character, I hope) as meaningless as the porn she delivers, and we wend our way through sexual entanglements as preposterous as they are arbitrary. It's obvious throughout that PT has devolved to creating porn filler by the pound, about as appetizing as Hamburger Helper.

Everybody's cheating but nobody cares. Savanna is married to Chris Charming who is using his big imported dick on her best pal Raquel Devine, presumably cast to make Samson look younger by comparison with this veteran MILF.

Devine's son is Voodoo (how insulting!) and his stepdad is a most improbable Sean Michaels -note that Raquel and Sean do not have a scene together, not even for exposition of back story.

Voodoo gets to hump Samson as well as the cute starlet Meggan Malone who PT showcases here. A very sexy Renae Cruz is on hand to upstage the other femme talent, and my least favorite gonzo guy Alex Gonz is impossibly cast as Samson's son -more insult.

The poorly shot movie just lays there, and Voodoo almost gets the last word in the BTS short subject, making fun of PT's lousy script and showing off his erect cock in Cinemascope fashion, i.e., it takes a wide screen to encompass it.

Yuck.