Once upon a time, when Andy Warhol was considered on the cutting edge of avant garde filmmaking, he shot eight uninterrupted hours of the Empire State building doing what it does best - taking up a great deal of space, and little more.  The public saw it for the turgid time-waste that it was, but a few dopey critics actually called it "stimulating."  That tiny contingent of viewers who managed to sit through 480 minutes of brain-chilling architectural preservation is, more than likely, the only audience for the equally ponderous Black Orgies #33.

Never before has so pure an example of two-dimensional thinking been so clearly presented.  The videography is a stultifying affair of aimless zooms converging from a single, tripod-locked location at the foot of a bed.  (If genitals happen to be facing the camera, and the focus is set, so much the better.)  Three average-to-chunky couples (who don't switch off with other partners until near the "grand" finale) appear to be having a decent time - despite the annoyance of a fourth party attempting to capture the event on tape.  (Fan alert: Spontaneeus Xtasy, a hot performer elsewhere, is in the middle of this muddle.)

Despite some serious female groaning and a few pop shots caught on wide angle, none of the heat really translates.  One's mind too wanders back to the slim, tapered, photogenic Empire State Building - which, to its credit, had no trouble raising the high hard one for longer than an hour.