The old stand-by premise of an exotic elixir which makes women hot sets this wall-to-waller in motion, but the star-studded cast is wasted by lighting so bad you wish they would have shot it in a subway, or some place where you could guarantee more light. It's a study of butts and elbows as the camera chooses every angle but the right one, while buses and cars pass by seemingly inches away from the sound microphone.

Once the premise is out of the way we find Amber Lynn, Chelsea Blake and Gina Carrera banging their brains out in half-light while a library score pumps out the music from Excedrin Headeache Number Nine. It's no wonder this one sat on a shelf somewhere collecting dust. For what it must have cost to crank this out, Bruce Seven could have made an anthology of porn in the 20th century. Honestly, there's probably more dialog in a failed marriage then we get here, leaving us to guess the results of this magic elixir's effect.

By the end of this travesty I was watching to see who directs it, just so I'd know who to lay blame on. Now I know.