It's difficult to believe that the same filmmaker's involved in 93 & 94.

Vol. 93, while not great, outsex-es 94. Neither one will be debuting at the Sundance Film Festival anytime soon.

The batting average for 93 is .667 (two for three if you will). Annabelle and Rodney, in almost mute-like fashion, mime their way throughout. Sans a sound (and an entry shot) they give it their best, which isn't that bad. The guitar playing London lays a few riffs on Tess.

Her vocal vocals lead them into some groovin' harmony. Some nice shots here, but where oh where are those entry shots? The bathroom is an appropriate place for Greta and Rodney to get it on. Sure, he uses his plunger to unclog her commode but the lack of space requires many close-ups of Greta (who's having a bad face day). Don't forget to use the Lysol after viewing.

I was disappointed that I watched Vol. 94 rather than go for my root canal. One can't help but think, "This has got to get better." Wrong. Kim and Jerry's passion level is subzero. The only assets here are Kim's two sagging tax deductions. Kim appears to be thinking about her manicure as she swallows his Saran wrapped salami. The Jacuzzi scene is reminiscent of a bad blind date — awkward and slow moving. Lack of space gives us that great video technique of zoom in, zoom out, doze in, doze out. The lone highlight is when an unidentified spigot spits nicely on the girls' faces. Consistency is the key here as Cloe and Blu-Silk offer uninspired performances. I could explain the premise, but why?

If you have to watch Vols. 93 and 94 as a pair think about it. If there's no such stipulation, take a gander at 93 but the only thing erotic with 94 is when the lights go down.