In an inspired piece of casting, actress Charlie Latour plays a housewife named Charlie Latour who's possessed of a wimpo husband and overactive ovaries. But middle-aged? Cut me a break.

After seeing this feature, I'm beginning to get disturbed about shot-on-videos. For instance, in this gem we follow a day in the life of Charlie. She starts off with your basic high-pro breakfast consisting of a mouthful of you-know-what, followed by a little clitoral double dribble; unbridled sex with a "veterinarian," played by Jerry Butler, who stops in to check on her "pussy" (this joke is played out once too often); a lesbian encounter with a nosey neighbor (Sharon Mitchell), and an interracial three-way with auto mechanics who couldn't tell a penis from a spark plug. And that's just for the morning.

Personally, I just can't get into this one. First off, I can't buy an alleged sexpot who talks like Leo Gorcey with the vocabulary of a jack hammer operator on the Coney Island Bridge. The sex scenes run on past their welcome—I put my Wednesday night wash on the spin and dry cycle during the course of one scene, and didn't miss a lick; one of the males (I won't say which one) wears the grossest pair of jockey shorts this side of Jim Palmer and, to boot, it just has that cheap-looking aspect about it with background sets straight out of a home improvements center display.

Let's face it, some people will love the raunch. But for my 70 minutes of time, Confessions is short on confession and long on penance—for the viewer.