Johnny Deep takes a leak in a swimming pool that looks like it's already seen the liquid content of the seventh inning stretch at Dodger Stadium. He then pinches a loaf in a lawn toilet sans plumbing, and Brian Surewood's mouth is on the appreciative receiving end of a girl's squat-whiz. Looks like someone put a vidcam in the hands of Hunter S. Thompson and told him to shoot a pool party. Actually, it's director Zupko who lends a certain singular resourcefulness and cutting edge to the proceedings, making one more appreciative of the gonzo genre in pure form. One moment the music sounds like WWF Smackdown; the next it might take on the texture of an elegant battle score from an Errol Flynn pirate movie.
Zupko works his scenes on different levels and imbues them with different moods and textures. Sometimes it's the angling that makes it work. Sometimes he tosses in the film look. Scenes are a mixed bag of lesbian and hetero tricks. Some are shot in the dark and one is underwater - when Vivian Valentine gives Brian Surewood a hand job with the camera capturing all the eeriness of his sperm count migrating to the surface.
By the time the lifeguards are ready to kick everybody out of the pool, a five-body pileup has ensued that finds Surewood tit-fucking Sonja Redd while Caroline Pierce and Capri Cameron are gangmouthing Chris Cannon, who has no alternative but to fuck the shit out of Capri Cameron.