There's some kind of coup achieved in Songbird; in a mere 75 minutes, it builds a story fraught with emotion and tension; captures four nasty sex scenes, unleashes some excellent acting performances, and pounds out an original, kick-ass music soundtrack. In other words, it has all the earmarks of a fine feature film - but it's not. (A film that is; Songbird's aesthetic qualities are far less debatable). It's a video, and though some may say different, I steadfastly believe the inherent quality in motion picture stock far outweigh the tinny, smeary videos that are churned out by the truckload. So let's say Songbird is a triumph of content over medium, and let it rest at that.
In a modernization of the Svengali/Trilby theme, Dior (who's dropped her surname Christina) essays the role of a pop icon under the thumb of her manager/husband (John T. Bone). Locked up in her mansion, unable to grind our more hits, Dior is one sad songbird. Bone send his Gal Friday (Sarah Jane Hamilton) up to lubricate her pipes, and these two sing a delicious duet the likes of which will have you jockeying your disc at 45 rpm! Dior, nearly boyishly flat-chested but completely, erotically feminine, has her yearning pussy eaten to shuddering climax, and returns the favor (with dildo) to Sarah's gushing love gash.
A nomination-worthy backstage three-way with Dior's friend Vixxen (A Savannah-ish blonde beauty, but with an actual sex drive) and a duo of uncredited male fans will rock your world with masterful cock-sucking, aggressive d.p. action and a double flying load to her face.
In shuttering Randy West's studio, a photo-op becomes a fuck-op for Dior; the ol' boy works harder than he has in quite a while, ramming her spreadeagle in his canvas director's chair and cumming on her savory pussy lips. If that ain't enough, West later finds himself hoover'ed with a double blowjob by the killer tag-team of Vixxen and Debi Diamond - who heads south to perform a rimjob while Randy slams Vixxen like a screen door.
It's inevitable that our songbird's gotta fly, leaving Bone and her career behind, but what a ride! In addition to her innate sexual talent, Dior has composed and sings the ballads, funk, and rap that permeate the tracks with genuine passion. Well done, Dior! Well done, Mr. Bone! Is there an encore in the wings?