After watching this film it's still unclear exactly what the title means. Perhaps it has something to do with the film's seamless quality: one scene blending unremarkably into the next. The camera never leaves its location. Everything happens on prickly looking wicker bench in front of an uninteresting painted landscape. The models, some of whom are more appealing than others, come and go, putting the viewer in mind of a slow-paced Sunday afternoon at the bathhouse. The bench is never empty for long – there are always a couple of nude thirtysomethings in the wings waiting their turn. Sprinkled throughout the rimming, sucking, and fucking is an odd, sultry voiceover interjecting tidbits in Italian. It's anybody's guess what he's commenting on.

Retailing: Recommend to admirers of Italian men.