There are three and a half minutes of phone-sex commercials even after you hit "Play Movie," before four black/black scenes begin. The offscreen director brags about his new camera, and it really is a dilly, giving crisp, sharp images. But what he shoots with it is the same ol' same ol'. In a pine-paneled room with a black leather sofa (videographed with crystalline vividness), tiny Thugzilla rants and jabbers and waves his tattoos, his tool, and his way-oversized bling around before shoving a baffled young beauty down and face-fucking him. Soon the beauty is screaming, "Oh, shit, yes!" as his butt is banged. His face gets creamed like a cake. The director chatters with a pretty youth and a skinny, intense one until they fuck each other's faces, their various ear-, nose,- navel- and lip-studs glittering. Pretty then buggers Skinny's crack like a power-tool. Back among the paneling, Thugzilla returns with a tall, very pale youth who coincidentally resembles Barack Obama. He makes the youth pucker and unpucker asshole, then profoundly fucks its flexible depths. With the new camera, the golden walls, brown Thug, pink towel and pale, pretty flesh look great. Finally, a butch little bantam black with jewels in his ears gets a genuine Marine-type white youth whose ass he bites then buggers on a pretty blue bed.

RETAILING: Better videography than usual may make this average Bacchus black movie of interest to more customers.