It's astounding how poor the screenplays of Cash Markman are -this being one of the worst (out of hundreds) I've seen thus far.
Haphazardly directed by Herschel Savage, the story doesn't hang together at all, in a failed neo-noir format of untalented Rob Tyler (his line readings are p*ss poor) at the bar owned by Sean Michaels feeling sorry for himself and relating his tale of woe in flashback.
With extremely crummy sets, we're in a tiny town, not the Vegas that the title (Jugsy for Bugsy) mocks, with some sort of competition posited between Sean's watering hole and a massage parlor operated by title stripper Heather Lere. She has moderately small natural breasts, clearly miscast in the lead role which called for at least a Rebecca Wild if not a Chessie Moore.
None of the show fits together, with Cash's pretentious plot structure utterly pointless. And hero Tyler alternately calls our heroine Jiggles and Jugsy, merely confusing, and with the use of noir voiceover narration perhaps due to post-production revisions.
As far as the sex goes, nsg.
Haphazardly directed by Herschel Savage, the story doesn't hang together at all, in a failed neo-noir format of untalented Rob Tyler (his line readings are p*ss poor) at the bar owned by Sean Michaels feeling sorry for himself and relating his tale of woe in flashback.
With extremely crummy sets, we're in a tiny town, not the Vegas that the title (Jugsy for Bugsy) mocks, with some sort of competition posited between Sean's watering hole and a massage parlor operated by title stripper Heather Lere. She has moderately small natural breasts, clearly miscast in the lead role which called for at least a Rebecca Wild if not a Chessie Moore.
None of the show fits together, with Cash's pretentious plot structure utterly pointless. And hero Tyler alternately calls our heroine Jiggles and Jugsy, merely confusing, and with the use of noir voiceover narration perhaps due to post-production revisions.
As far as the sex goes, nsg.