Remember the '70s-era 3-D movie called The Stewardesses? Fond memories of uniformed babes popping out of the screen notwithstanding, the stewwies of yore cannot begin to compete with the bevy of first class flight attendants who populate Caribbean Airlines. Even without the cardboard glasses, these babes are comin' at ya with their superb assets … and the tropical locations provide even more to gawk over.

Therein lies the problem - at least for this lone reviewer, who has steadfastly insisted that the hugely successful Private line is nothing more than eye candy. It would be disingenuous to argue that their performers are superb specimens of female curvage and male cockage. However, we make a case that the sexual hijinxs are nothing more than well-crafted, assembly line product. Each scene - replete with the standard d.p. and facial frosting - is interchangeable with the other. In fact, the participants themselves are so uniform in appearance that they begin to resemble Stepford wives who just happen to function as mere penis holsters and jizz spittoons. They moan on cue as their hairless holes are filled by fun truncheons and smile vacantly as Euro-spunk glazes their perfectly maintained dental work … yet real passion is as distant as most viewers are from the tropics.

Of course, this is a minority opinion, which both your viewers and sales reports will likely contest. If sexual perfection embraces sterility, then so be it.