|Released||Aug 01st, 1994|
|Directors||Jim Holliday, Wesley Emerson|
|Cast||Kristall, Nick East, Debi Diamond, Shawn Ricks, Jaylin, Debi Jointed, Valeria (I), Chasey Lain, Sahara (I), Mickey Lynn, T.T. Boy, Cody Adams, Tiffany Mynx, Keisha (I), Ariel Day|
REAL TIickeTs walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, but swims like a Thanksgiving bird. Admittedly, Jim Holliday has a loyal following and his features generate anticipation – if not outright expectations – for densely plotted tips o' the chapeau to obscure rock n' roll tunes, sports trivia, collegiate humor and lurid 50's fiction; to isolate just the tip of the iceberg. Not to mention his fabulous roster of "Angels". How strange, upon viewing, to find REAL TIckeTs resembling something more like a parody of Holliday straight from the pages of Cracked magazine, the Avis of satire!
A nationwide "naked acrobatics" competition bodes well for the premise, and true to form Holliday manages to both set up the premise and smoothly segue into a decent sex scene with T.T. Boy (as "Malibu Vikings" manager) boffing "West Palm Beach Bunny" Mickey Lynn, just for luck. (A nice shot in the ass always works like a charm for me, too.) In a rare and sadly wasted cameo, Veronica Hart essays a play-by-play announcer whose energetic line readings make her co-anchors Nick East and Cody Adams look like crash test dummies on Prozac.
After the arrival of the teams, your typical Holliday backroom banter ensues. (Simply replace "dorm room" with "locker room" and you've got the idea.) Some of it's ad-libbed. Some of it's funny. But mostly, it goes on longer than a Senatorial health-care filibuster and is just about as arousing.
This scene is key to the vid's problem. The talent runs back to the locker room just to smoke, chew the fat and douse themselves with deodorant so many times that you'd think the smell of sweaty gym socks suddenly replaced Dune perfume as aphrodisiac of the month. On particularly pointless lock room repartee finds a group of babes rattling through a seemingly endless inventory of penis euphemisms. Quite possibly, this exercise might have been palatable had it not been shot "talking heads" style. Probably not. Various moments of acrobatic wonderment permeate the show whenever the dialogue lacks. Oogle Keisha bouncing on the trampoline (talk about redundant!) See the girls walk on the balance beam. Stare at upside-down hanging on the parallel bears. Watch Chasey Lain sprain her ankle and whine, literally adding injury to insult.
Though Holliday's dropped the ball with the humor it would be unfair to give the devil his due concerning a few of the sex scenes. An encounter between Tiffany Mynx and Cody Adams brings much needed heat to the vid as he butters her asshole with sports balm, splits her legs like a king crab leg and doggies her furiously against the wall; gushing in her face and continuing to hump her tits. (Why Adams never enters her lubed and longing butt is a question reserved for the gods.) Sahara and Sydney St. James do the required and well-shot anal scenes with Joey Silvera and Shawn Ricks.
There comes a point when you wonder why the feature carries the title of REAL TlckeTs. By subtracting the lower case letters you can figure it out, but nowhere in the plot does it give mention to a most worthwhile concept that gets lost in the shuffle. Meanwhile, the box is nice and the feature's pretty good.....so it's certainly worth stocking.