The premise is: present the story of Adam and Eve as a new-age exercise in soft core titillation with the deeper purpose of "art," without actor or actress uttering a line of dialogue throughout the film's duration (if Neil St. Clair is as bad a writer as he is a director, this is a blessing). Depict Eve as a child of the Earth, rising up through stone on a quest to connect with Adam (described in the credits as "First Man") and discover, like, sex and stuff. If this sounds similar to "The Blue Lagoon," heed your intuition. Imagine the Adam and Eve segments from "The Loss of Sexual Innocence" extracted, "tastefully" remade by a Playboy photographer, and stripped of all visual intelligence.
This director's notion of primitivism and purity is to have his First Man and First Woman wriggle about on natural, sun-baked landscapes (various U.S. and international locations are used) in faux balletic movements, the First Man appearing with a dirty tee-shirt wrapped around his waist for decency while songs like Deep Forest's "Sweet Lullaby" (which was already passé ten years ago), the rights to which probably come cheap to cheap filmmakers like St. Clair, and Moby's equally expired "Porcelain" occupy the soundtrack, reminding one of St. Clair's fatal lack of imagination. One expects the film to end with a promotional logo for Calvin Klein's Eternity for Men fragrance.
The star of the film, Inger Ebeltoft, is a former Miss Norway, and she's apparently modeling here in lieu of acting, and likewise for Matt Scarborough, whose only other acting credit is as "Delivery Boy" in an episode of "Relic Hunter." Neil St. Clair regularly interrupts his action with generic quotations to let you know you're watching an art film.