For energetic sex, smooth integration of XXX footage with the ongoing story, and just a general sense of joie de vivre, Ron Sullivan/Henri Pachard's "The Adultress" is terrific. Just a few years too new to qualify for porn's "Golden Age", it is surely as entertaining as its filmed forebears.
I think the trick here is to maintain a sincerity about doing a good job of telling your story and entertaining the audience plus providing explicit sex, while keeping things light and cheerful. Sullivan's balancing act is made possible by a talented set of performers, and the seeming ease of accomplishment here should serve as a learning opportunity when viewed by any of today's pretentious stylists or even mere gonzo directors.
Title is ultimately assigned to cute Jamie Summers, given an "introducing" credit upfront, though it would seem that her career-making feature "The Brat", also directed by Sullivan/Henri Pachard, was released the previous year. Premise is simple: a seemingly contented couple is nonetheless scheming against each other, trying to get incriminating goods on the spouse to use in a yet-to-be-filed divorce action. Buck Adams is well-cast as the scheming intermediary who turns out to be playing both ends against the middle.
Sounds prosaic, but all the principal players, and even some supporting actors, give engaging performances that make for pure entertainment. It ain't Lubitsch, not even Hawks rom-com action, but is still delightful for Adult Entertainment fans.
The complications center around a mysterious "slut" girl named George, who turns out to be Summers in a final reel appearance. But stealing the show earlier is Alexa Parks, terrific as a deadpan self-described "slut", who pulls a fast one on both protagonists. Krista Lane as the mischeivous wife is delightful, while Herschel Savage is smooth as the unsympathetic husband.
The cast is truly "on"; even when Sheri St. Claire, cast as yet another "slut" calls Buck's character Bart by the name of Burt by mistake, everyone laughs and they plow through the scene charmingy, rather than the usual uncaught error.
Caballero, for the hundredth time, insists on its DVD packaging to claim this was "SHOT ON 35MM" when as usual the feature was obviously shot on video.
I think the trick here is to maintain a sincerity about doing a good job of telling your story and entertaining the audience plus providing explicit sex, while keeping things light and cheerful. Sullivan's balancing act is made possible by a talented set of performers, and the seeming ease of accomplishment here should serve as a learning opportunity when viewed by any of today's pretentious stylists or even mere gonzo directors.
Title is ultimately assigned to cute Jamie Summers, given an "introducing" credit upfront, though it would seem that her career-making feature "The Brat", also directed by Sullivan/Henri Pachard, was released the previous year. Premise is simple: a seemingly contented couple is nonetheless scheming against each other, trying to get incriminating goods on the spouse to use in a yet-to-be-filed divorce action. Buck Adams is well-cast as the scheming intermediary who turns out to be playing both ends against the middle.
Sounds prosaic, but all the principal players, and even some supporting actors, give engaging performances that make for pure entertainment. It ain't Lubitsch, not even Hawks rom-com action, but is still delightful for Adult Entertainment fans.
The complications center around a mysterious "slut" girl named George, who turns out to be Summers in a final reel appearance. But stealing the show earlier is Alexa Parks, terrific as a deadpan self-described "slut", who pulls a fast one on both protagonists. Krista Lane as the mischeivous wife is delightful, while Herschel Savage is smooth as the unsympathetic husband.
The cast is truly "on"; even when Sheri St. Claire, cast as yet another "slut" calls Buck's character Bart by the name of Burt by mistake, everyone laughs and they plow through the scene charmingy, rather than the usual uncaught error.
Caballero, for the hundredth time, insists on its DVD packaging to claim this was "SHOT ON 35MM" when as usual the feature was obviously shot on video.