Even if you were to mark on a curve, The Proposal rates, at best, as a physically impaired version of Indecent Proposal, a pretty lame movie by most standards.
Pretty Dyanna Lauren plays the wife who is propositioned by a millionaire titty bar owner. How rich is this guy? He keeps the bar closed to the public, strictly for his private amusement. Steve Drake is the owner who indulges himself by being the only one to feast his eyes upon his dancers (Lynden Johnson and Rebecca Wild), until customers Lauren and husband Brad Armstrong wander in. In the gosh awfullest contrivance since "The Butler did it," Wild is sent to persuade the recalcitrant Armstrong to re-think Drake's offer. But, in a plot device that needs remedial surgery, Armstrong turns into Drake. Question: if Wild was going to pair off with Drake anyway, couldn't the storyline have taken into account a more logical and less stupid transition?
Be that as it may, the feature, though technically excellent, keeps the sex on low simmer. The girl-girler between Lauren and Bunny Bleu features some hot exotic dancing but hobbles in for the kill on crutches. Lauren's pairing with Armstrong shows some nice sphincter probing, but Lauren opts to keep her bra on like a prosthetic device. T.T. Boy gives Lynden Johnson an ambulance-worthy doggie pounding then sudses her crotch in the show's best moments, while the threeway involving Drake, T.T. and Bleu is staged as logistically awkwardly as a three-car pileup.
Lauren, on the boxcover, has been better, scriptwriter Cash Markman has been infinitely better, and talented director Frank Marino has seen better days. Unfortunately, this wasn't one of them.