Studio: Digital Playground
Director: Celeste
Cast: Jesse Jane, Celeste Star, Carli Banks, Karlie Montana, Joey, Nadia, Valerie Vasquez, Scott Nails, Jerry

I believe in America, despite this administration's efforts to make the country literally incredible. That is why I had my Congressman send me Jesse Jane: All American Girl.

It is always a pleasure to see Jesse Jane work. Like many female celebrities, she is smaller in person than one might expect, but her facial features are large. Director Celeste, who often (always?) eschews dialogue for the rental music that comes with the editing program, makes use of Jesse's expressiveness to tell very hammy, sexy, pointless, and goal-oriented stories.

A disclaimer: while the credits identified as many people as appeared in the movie, I didn't recognize anyone else. So I will just refer to the rest of the cast by the performers' individual gender, as if each is a piece of meat.

In the first scene, Jesse's ball becomes detached from its paddle. A man consoles her with the paddle. She returns the favor. Charming!

Next, Jesse's sharing of a peppermint stick compels a woman to fuck her. Note to self: keep Christmas in my heart. Jane shows off her new Playboy tattoo in this scene.

Then things turn grim.

What follows is a scene which validates America's reputation as a wasteful country. A woman is ostensibly eating her Froot Loops, but instead plays with her food. Jesse Jane is not involved in this scene, and for good reason: if she is the All-American Girl, this is the sort of behavior we all should avoid. If the wasteful woman were staying at my house - and who says she isn't? - I would tell her to stop playing with the goddamn food.

Jesse and another girl then interrupt a mohawked guy (Scott Nails, now I remember) in his music room. It's just as well, because he is reading a book of sheet music backwards. The gals do what every woman does with musicians, even bad ones: they kneel down so he can shoot a load on their expectant faces.

Cheerleader Jesse then performs a solo scene, which made me think the team must have been at a disadvantage.

Several more scenes, including one with the returned Mohawk Guy, follow. As an American, I have beeen conditioned to only expect five or six sex scenes in my pornography. Celeste provides many more.

This All-American Girl does not really provide a cohesive or representative picture of America, so I wonder what it is supposed to tell us about ourselves as citizens. Come on one another's face? Don't waste cereal? Come on one another's face again?

One thing is certain; Jesse must move to Canada with me.

Studio: VCA
Director: Barry Wood
Cast: Katie Morgan, Hillary Scott, Sandra Romain, Samantha Ryan, Sammie Rhodes, Evan Stone, Kurt Lockwood, Tommy Gunn

Evan Stone inherits his grandfather's house when the mysterious old man dies, finding a projector stocked with Jazz Age dirty movies. He falls in love with one of the celluloid heroines (Katie Morgan), much to the consternation of his wife, played by Hillary Scott.

"Are you actually getting turned on by that old woman?" Scott asks. "You have the real thing right here."

There's something about what cable markets will buy and the product that is generated for them that makes content of this type unwatchable. Normally Evan Stone is allowed to be a ham, and normally Hillary Scott doesn't really have to talk. Both virtues are denied to them here as they are forced through dialogue that is wooden even for porn with a canned soundtrack reminiscent of a video game I would never finish.

Director Wood frames some of the first sex scene between Stone and Scott through the takeup reel of the projector, and Scott's yelling is probably overcompensation for the hurt and jealousy she must be feeling. It is important to know that the old woman to whom Scott referred wasn't old on screen; Scott was merely projecting the superannuation we all feel at times like these.

Scott leaves Stone alone in the "creepy" house (maybe it was creepy in the script - it's actually a very nice house, though grandfather's "basement" is several miles away in Los Angeles). He immediately fires up the projector again. Scott conveniently calls and breaks up with him. She was cramping his style anyway. Meanwhile, Katie Morgan and Sammie Rhodes slake their flapper passion onscreen.

Stone is on a quest. He tracks down the grandson of the moviemaker (I thought his grandfather was the movie maker, but I guess Stone's granddad was just a connoisseur), Kurt Lockwood, who is a sleazeball porn director himself. Lockwood explains that his grandfather burned all the copies of his films except the one Stone now has in his hand. Then Lockwood goes off to fuck Samantha Ryan, who is credited as Samantha Ryder.

Back at his grandfather's house, Katie Morgan comes out of the screen to service Evan Stone. It's like "The Ring" with scarier music. Though she is dressed like Daisy Buchanan, Morgan's pubic area is shaved in a decidedly un-Gatsby fashion. Post load-blow, Stone wakes from his reverie and we are treated to a long sequence of him rethreading the projector.

It turns out the film is cursed, God damn it. Morgan is like a black widow drawing everyone in to her filmic lair. Grandpa's there, the old porn director is there, and now Stone has been snagged, too. Best buddy Tommy Gunn comes by the house looking for Stone, who hasn't been seen in weeks. Luckily Gunn has brought Sandra Romain along. Though they hardly speak the same language, they know how vitally important it is to fuck in the projection room, which they do.

Romain is European, so she knows better than to engage the spirits lurking in the film can. As the scene fades, however, Gunn turns the projector on. Oh snap!

A little attention to detail might have helped this movie, because the art deco font used for the credits just wasn't enough. Obviously there was a script, and there was a great deal of dialogue. Perhaps a P.A. might have been dispatched, then, to get a period hat for the old guys captured in Morgan's web. Perhaps Morgan's 80-year-old character might have said "Hie thee to my grotto" or whatever Coolidge-era people said rather than "Fuck my tight pussy."

Ah well. The movie has girls having sex in it. That's all that matters.