I've seen stinkers by pornographer Jonathan Burroughs before, the downside of my relatively random perusal of porn history. After "Material Girl" and an even worse one titled "Call Girl" I hope to avoid his work in future.
This inept porn feature from the VHS era stars Shanna McCullough, who manages to rise above the worthless material and maker her usual warm & fuzzy impression on the viewer. She's stuck with Joey Silvera, a creepy cad who's only interested in her selling a house -it's never made clear whether they live there or if Shanna is merely an agent working for Renie Properties, per the sign on the front lawn.
After the requisite opening Shanna/Joey hump in bed and some crude attempts at humor, the video devolves into sex scenes with prospective buyers. Burroughs' script is awful and he clearly doesn't care about much else than filling the running time with sex, plus some stupid in-jokes.
Francois Papillon is an obvious phony, pretending to be a businessman in a hurry, stiffing poor Shanna with an unsigned check before running off after humping her in the house's bedroom in exchange for supposedly leaving her a big deposit to buy the place.
Next up we have a newly married interracial lesbian couple (how's that for covering all bases 30 years ago?) of slightly butch Nina Hartley and beautiful Angel Kelly, who repair to that same bedroom for some Sapphic loving. When Shanna sees them, she declines to make it a threesome, a minor triumph for staying in character while denying the poor video customer some fun.
After that, Jerry Butler shows up with an unknown tall blonde actress named Jules St. Cloud, who I had previously seen in an excellent Carlos Tobalina movie "Super Sex" but has no other IMDb listed credits to her name. It's their turn to hump in the house's bedroom, and Jules is notable for big natural breasts.
Finale is truly stupid, as Butler, with grey at his temples and uncharacteristic slicked-back hair style, suddenly reveals himself as a pastiche of Howard Hughes. He talks of having designed a brassiere for Jules, and desiring to move from the airplane industry into movies, hoping to sign up Shanna on the spot as a starlet, and buy this house for her to live in, a la Terry Moore and a bevy of other HH discoveries. Shanna takes the opportunity, and afterward turns to the camera to recite: "Hollywood, here I come!".
Pure junk, with the only real takeaway in how Butler resembles Leo DeCaprio in an odd sort of way presaging the Scorsese biopic "The Aviator" on Hughes, a mainstream feature I disdain almost as much as this throwaway VHS turkey.
This inept porn feature from the VHS era stars Shanna McCullough, who manages to rise above the worthless material and maker her usual warm & fuzzy impression on the viewer. She's stuck with Joey Silvera, a creepy cad who's only interested in her selling a house -it's never made clear whether they live there or if Shanna is merely an agent working for Renie Properties, per the sign on the front lawn.
After the requisite opening Shanna/Joey hump in bed and some crude attempts at humor, the video devolves into sex scenes with prospective buyers. Burroughs' script is awful and he clearly doesn't care about much else than filling the running time with sex, plus some stupid in-jokes.
Francois Papillon is an obvious phony, pretending to be a businessman in a hurry, stiffing poor Shanna with an unsigned check before running off after humping her in the house's bedroom in exchange for supposedly leaving her a big deposit to buy the place.
Next up we have a newly married interracial lesbian couple (how's that for covering all bases 30 years ago?) of slightly butch Nina Hartley and beautiful Angel Kelly, who repair to that same bedroom for some Sapphic loving. When Shanna sees them, she declines to make it a threesome, a minor triumph for staying in character while denying the poor video customer some fun.
After that, Jerry Butler shows up with an unknown tall blonde actress named Jules St. Cloud, who I had previously seen in an excellent Carlos Tobalina movie "Super Sex" but has no other IMDb listed credits to her name. It's their turn to hump in the house's bedroom, and Jules is notable for big natural breasts.
Finale is truly stupid, as Butler, with grey at his temples and uncharacteristic slicked-back hair style, suddenly reveals himself as a pastiche of Howard Hughes. He talks of having designed a brassiere for Jules, and desiring to move from the airplane industry into movies, hoping to sign up Shanna on the spot as a starlet, and buy this house for her to live in, a la Terry Moore and a bevy of other HH discoveries. Shanna takes the opportunity, and afterward turns to the camera to recite: "Hollywood, here I come!".
Pure junk, with the only real takeaway in how Butler resembles Leo DeCaprio in an odd sort of way presaging the Scorsese biopic "The Aviator" on Hughes, a mainstream feature I disdain almost as much as this throwaway VHS turkey.