Recalling the sumptuous Dinner Party, this not-quite-a-sequel satisfies the senses with generous helpings of visual dynamics, but as an erotically charged repast it's more like a cucumber sandwich, albeit with extra mayo.  That old standby, the diary-wraparound premise, is trotted out once again to act as a creaky foundation supporting a variety of liaisons.  Fortunately Orleans the director deftly overpowers Orleans the writer.

Blithely ignoring the clichés, house-hunter Mark Davis (plus Austin and a few other girls) delve deep into the diary's carnal fantasies, which span the gamut of past, present and future trysts occurring on the well-manicured garden grounds.  Jill Kelly's booty is spread and plundered by photographer Eric Price in a sensual sepia-toned segment, and she rewards him with a drooly hummer.  Flashing forward to a fashion-challenged future where guys deck themselves out in jeweler's eyeglasses and raincoats while women wear little more than metallic lingerie and purple wigs, we find the trio of Raylene, Alec Metro and Ian Daniels doing the tag-team tango and a double jizz hosing of her 21st-century jugs.  A handful of pretty-but-lukewarm lesbian segments eventually give way to a requisite orgy with Davis as the bone of contention, and Roxy Hall's buns as the target.

Tall, blond, and not quite as uninhibited as the cover copy indicates, Angela Austin's debut may not be auspicious, but she's a serviceable performer in an imminently serviceable feature.  Not really a starring vehicle per se, Garden Party primarily functions as a couples tape, with eye-catching production values (worth pre-noms in the design and videography departments).  Stock it.