Going by the cute boxcover which features a Mad Magazine-style caricature of a surfer and busty bikini babe, I had reasonably high expectations for this new amateur series.  Those expectations, however, were dashed real quick on the rocks of Malibu where a lot of the outdoor footage was shot.  The background music is relentless, obnoxious and intrusive.  You can't hear what the people are saying, and extemporaneous dialogue is one of the essential charms of "amateur-style" tapes.  The synthesizer practically takes on a life of its own and achieves something akin to the Chinese water torture of listening to a faucet drip.  Check it out for yourself to see if I'm exaggerating.

Point #2 - every scene in both volumes is shot in the same bedroom.  There is a point of no return in the viewers' attention span, and these scenes achieve it.

If Gail Force is going to be the ongoing hostess, she's going to need to lower the volume on her act.  She's totally out of it and in some kind of platinum fog.  On the positive side, the Jeff Wilson/Susan Rodgers pairing in Volume 2 is one of the best I've seen in all of amateurdom, so something can be achieved in all of this.