Taking its title from a syrupy Diana Ross ballad, this is a great example of what a so-called "couples film" can and indeed should be. The Lewis "Brothers" (director Louie and regular producer Elliot ironically supplanted on this occasion by "sister" JoAnn) have a track record of making the most out of a modest budget, their glossy production values and star-studded casts giving the impression of far more lavish undertakings than their cost-conscious ventures usually were. Next to MEMPHIS CATHOUSE BLUES and PLEASE, MR. POSTMAN this stands as their crowning achievement. Eschewing the fanfare, this movie offers everything that couples might want to see in an adult film : well-drawn characters who interact believably with one another, relationship problems that will be recognizable to most longtime lovers and sex that has build-up, romance as well as plenty of heat, the area most other couples erotica falls flat on its face.
The marriage of Schuyler and Jenny Barnes (superstars Paul Thomas and Veronica Hart) is going through a rough patch. He's putting in long hours at the office so they can live comfortably and has a tendency to drink too much too unwind after work. As a result, he's no longer able to satisfy his pretty wife the way he once used to, which leads to her questioning whether she's somehow to blame. One fateful night, the tensions between them erupt. Frustrations are vented as insults are hurled in both directions. Each of them fantasizes of what might have been had they not married one another. She dreams of seducing her hairdresser Michael Morrison (a/k/a Milton Ingley), who's not gay despite his effeminate manner, along with his sexy shampoo girl Becky Savage, a reliable second-stringer best remembered as the unwitting spy in Ann Perry's silly UNDERCOVERS. Spying on the cute boy next door (an unbelievably youthful looking Mike Horner), she also projects herself into his making love with girlfriend Nicole Noir. Schuyler settles for fantasies of picking up Lysa Thatcher, the indelible heroine of Howard Winters' phenomenal NEON NIGHTS, in the park and chasing mysterious Lisa DeLeeuw (wearing the same evening gown and sun glasses she did in the Lewis Bros' TRASHI) around town until he gets to sample her fleshy wares to the strains of Ravel's timeless Bolero.
Somewhere along the way, imagination gives way to memories of how they first met and fell in love. Hardly head over heels, mind you, with Jenny's best friend (legendary Sharon Mitchell, perhaps looking prettier than I have ever seen her) bad-mouthing him for his bad jokes and uncouth behavior. Shy hunk Adam Adams, a fly by night cutie pie also in Chris Warfield's massively underrated PURELY PHYSICAL, appears as Mitch's toy boy but she's clearly more attracted to Jenny and the two of them share one of the all time greatest girl on girl interludes. Through bittersweet remembrance, romance is rekindled as the morning sun peeks through the bedroom shutters.
The simple narrative rings true, courtesy of realistic dialog and terrific acting from both leads, not coincidentally two of the most respected acting talents ever within the adult industry. Viewer sympathy shifts back and forth yet neither character is ever made to appear wholly unsympathetic, their hang-ups and motives striking close to home for most of the intended audience. As per Lewis tradition, lighting and cinematography are exquisite, glorifying the beauty of actresses who have rarely looked this glamorous. When these goddesses deign mere mortal men worthy of their sexual favors, corks are sure to pop in many couples' bedrooms. The kiss 'n' make up lovemaking session the whole film builds towards does not disappoint, providing a perfect capper to this tale of love not lost but simply mislaid. This is that rarity, a porn flick that makes you feel warm 'n' fuzzy (and ready to cuddle) rather than all out hot 'n' bothered. Subtlety's a great virtue the adult industry usually tramples all over. So do yourself and the love of your life a favor and don't let this frail little gem pass you by. It reminds us all to stay in love as, to paraphrase Kay Parker's winged words, it really is the only place to be.
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