Randy Spears spills his guts to the camera: once over a bottle of seltzer water; once over a mug of root beer. He complains about a marriage that has turned him into Gumby. Spears sounds more like Hamlet pouring it out on the Christian broadcasting network.
Ariel Knight, he wife, is as cold as an Eskimo beer truck. Over a cup of coffee she gives her side of the story. Only Spears and Knight come off more like two TV commercials for soft drinks than lusty players in a sexvid. Chalk up some of that to sex scenes and pairings that seem distant and remote.Regardless of how Spears rationalizes his failings, Knight is an unredeemable slut. Only her sex scenes with Jon Martin and participatory sequence with Richard Pacheco/Denise Connors/Nina Hartley seem so disengaged-these people just pop into view unheralded, unannounced as though they were accomplices in a compilations conspiracy (Pacheco’s current safe sex thing here is a valve and ring job he gets from Connors). Spears takes a “Prove Your Manhood” fling with bespectacled Megan Leigh that’s a tad better on eroticism. As morality playlets go, perhaps a little too heavy on the downbeat, but still better than average.