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Nurse Tails

Nurse Tails

Released Apr 01st, 1994
Running Time 90
Director John Leslie
Company VCA Platinum
Critical Rating AA 1/2
Genre Feature



With Nurse Tails, director John Leslie continues to work out his new­found obsession with cinema verite, a style made popular through the success of countless sneaker commercials and the "NYPD Blue" TV series. You know it all too well — the hand-held camerawork, the jump cuts, the fractured pacing — and I suspect some future historians are going to break open a time capsule of early '90s video tapes, and exclaim "Were these people nuts, or what?"

Which, in a roundabout way, brings us to Nurse Tails, hearing the Leslie stamp of another work-in-progress. Perhaps searching for his roots, Leslie's gone back to his directorial debut (VCA's Night Shift Nurses) for yet another meditation on a theme already mined more times than a South African diamond quarry. Though there's one absolute gem in this obsidian rock, the sparkle on scantily-costumed nurse vids has long since worn off. Made all the more unpalatable by a tedious linear script, which posits Tiffany Mynx as a softcore film director interviewing a flock of Florence Nightingales for "real life" experiences she can use in her latest opus, we're subjected to six flash­back scenarios of varying heat.

A poolside opener with Joey Silvera being "tended" by Angel Cash and Sasha Strange sets an almost Buttman-esque ambience, with plenty of tease, POV shots and butt-fucking; which primes the pump for a bathroom encounter as Brittany O'Connell demonstrates (for Randy Spears) just where to stick an enema nozzle. Sadly, this never materializes into a full-blown bootie buster, nor does a fireplace lesbian orgy led by Deborah Wells become more than a tired plug for rubber goods.

The sole highlight (and strong awards contender) features Tiffany and T.T. Boy completely silhouetted in a damp tunnel under a sports arena. Gobbling him to the hilt, she takes a merciless stand-up pounding and readies for round two as boxer Jon Dough arrives for a furious three-way and double facial gusher; the sounds of the roaring crowd echoing about them as if in appreciation! Visually creative approaches like this are far more welcome than then the usual couch gropes that pad the rest of the vid. Please, John, "rediscover" a tripod, pronto!

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