From lavish adult spectacles do mighty DVDs grow. So, as one might expect, director James Avalon's take on high-level seduction and sexual awakening responds magnificently to the digital medium, complete with a pulsating sound quality that goes straight to the brain. The VMS version speaks for itself, of course, but this rendition is a whole new audio/visual ball of wax. Watch and listen as music and picture work like a polished vaudeville dance team to summon an internal eloquence rarely achieved in adult filmmaking. And, on top of that, thanks to clarity-rich visuals, art director Anthony Crane's glistening touches and nuances come to full-score realization. With black lights, spastic dream sequences and more than a touch of showboat, Red Vibe Diaries' antic sexual choreography is just the ticket for DVD.

As a frustrated Beverly Hills housewife on the prowl, Stacy Valentine has never looked more beautiful, though some of the story's inherent banalities will have you running to your collection of Jackie Collins paperbacks for creature comfort.

Though Red Vibe Diaries delivers as much as one can expect from a contemporary adult film, the paucity of all those menu goodies and extras (a treatise on the NASDAQ status of Metro Global Media, Inc. is not exactly what the man had in mind as far as entertainment) lands you nearly at square one on the DVD evolutionary scale. But, as erotic films go, even Darwin would give this version of Red Vibe Diaries a thumbs-up.

Once upon a time, a certain segment of adult video seemed to be preoccupied with tales of the pizza man. Then it became warm-hearted tales of reminiscence told around the campfire, which later evolved into warm-hearted tales of reminiscence told around the cocktail table.

Call it an interesting streak of evolutionary pluck, but one of the popular plots du jour of modern erotic video is one where a willy-nilly woman walks into an adult bookstore, only to have that experience transform her into some kind of sexual Shwarzenegger. Such is the tantalizing Stacy Valentine's mental and physical seduction, as witnessed in Red Vibe Diaries: Object of Desire, a film whose cinematic eloquence would have you swearing up and down that Andrew Blake directed it. Except Andre Blake didn't direct it- unless Blakes' characters all suddenly stopped walking stairways in slow motion and all started vying for Best Acting awards.

More than plot, acting and film speed separate the respective styles of Blake and director James Avalon, whose equally stunning video Blue Dhaklia (also and Editor's Choice) is anything but cheesy ripoff of an old Alan Ladd movie title. In Red Vibe Diaries, Avalon's visuals, like Blake's are clear, well-mannered and formally crisp. But Avalon's characters in this film also know when to cut the runway crap and quit behaving like tormented Versace models.

Valentine is married to a successful but overworked physician (Tony Tedeschi) who provides her with a lifestyle allowing her to swim laps in the Olympic pool of luxury. She nonetheless proves a naif when it comes to sex - as an early bookstore scene attests, when she witnesses/fantasizes salesgirl Deva Station and lady customer Charlie exchanging goosepimply anal penetrations. the way Stacy's eyes roll in her head, as though she'd been because by one of the Three Stooges, makes me wonder why I didn't set up an adult bookstore in my bedroom a long time ago.

B ut with the hours he's been keeping at the hospital, Dr. tony might also because consider another occupation, becuase his wife is broadcasting signals that she's about to screw around with some guy/any guy in an Armani suit. Which is pretty much the scenario when Valentine's pampered girlfriend Misty Rain introduces her to an exclusive afternoon club (hosted by Laura Palmer, doing a better Ivana Trump than Ivana Trump) that treats frustrated BelAire housewives to 12-inch Bel-Air dick.

It's safe to say that Rain's crowning adult performance. She looks exquisite, and her ripped-stocking, toe-sucking, legs fluttering pair-up with gigolo Marc Wallice is the catalyst of Stacy's subsequent adventures. "Adventures" translated in some languages as Vince Vouyer  who, as a kind of Devil's agent, plays a hot-shot capable of not only putting weird thoughts in a woman's head, but also tossing thousand-dollar bills around as if they were Egg McMuffins.

Men, if you ahve difficulty finding a down-to-earth LA girl, blame guys like Vouyer, who teaches Valentine that, besides indulging in masturbation, it ain't so bad for a woman to measure her worth in terms of what a man will spend to bed her. In Valentine's case, the going rate is ten grand for Vince to put his head between her melons. But not before the viewer gets it right between the eyeballs with two more sumptuously-mounted extravaganzas.

One features Alyssa Love, Alex Sanders, black lights, swim goggles and Speedos. The other you'd have to refer to as the "demon scene," featuring Valentine, Maya and David Steele, Picture on e of those weird-ass, over-the-top dream sequences where colors shift, a naked woman sports painted arrows over her body, the music throbs in her your loins and you have the suspicion you stepped in the middle of a Christian Bros. (remember them?) scene out of Immortal Desires. Only better.

And, yes, there is a Part 2 on its way. You didn't think Vince was going to make a clean getaway with the melons?