Six young women sit around at a bachelorette party and drink margaritas and eat pizza. Collectively they're a rainbow of personality types. Let's see. There's the flighty soap opera actress getting by on her good looks. (That would be Kim Cattrall.) Then there's the square who wanted to be a ballerina but turned out to be a bored CPA, Cynthia Stevenson. And there's the hostess, a bisexual chef, Lora Zane.
It all looks like fun. Oh, the girls may bicker at times but they get over it quickly and the next minute they're laughing and having a wonderful time again.
Personal problems of a dramatic nature are explored. Well -- "explored" is the wrong word. "Glanced at" is better. Most of the conversation revolves around sex and includes the revelation of masturbatory fantasies, sometimes about kinky dreams or experiences, several of them illustrated in flashbacks or imaginary sequences.
Gosh. I didn't know girls talked like this! I mean, I was aghast. Here they are slinging around words like "clitoris". (What's a clitoris, again?) And sodomy -- only good, old-fashioned Anglo-Saxon words are used, while those of Latin parentage are avoided.
The pace is headlong and the movie is never boring. It's especially not boring when Kim Cattrall is running around in this tiny pink piece of lingerie -- I don't know what it's called -- the shoe-string thin dorsal strap of which disappears for most of its length within her gluteal sulcus. I found it a little boring when the gay chatter turned to domination and bondage but then I'm not into that sort of thing, although I never seemed able to convince my ex wife of that. And actually it was instructive to learn about how to insert a tampon.
It was also educational in the sense that I learned that ladies of this ilk don't use the F word as verbal punctuation nearly as often as men do. I was a little disappointed in not finding out what the bisexual hostess did when she was with her lesbian lover. Tribadism, cunnilingus, mutual masturbation, some kind of plastic instruments -- what? There isn't really a nimiety of nudity and not an abundance of simulated sex. It's not really a "dirty movie." More like one of those plays in which everyone gets progressively tighter on booze and more revelatory.
I must say I didn't get that much of a kick out of it. I kept wondering why it was made, but others might find it more familiar and friendlier territory. I've always thought Dana Delaney deserved better than she's gotten in the way of roles. There's something about her big shiny teeth and naturally compressed lips that suggests a healthful blend of sexuality and nurturance. And Kim Cattrall is always enjoyable as a madcap vampiress. The other performers aren't bad either, however much the over-emphatic script, with all that fake cackling, tries to undo them.
It all looks like fun. Oh, the girls may bicker at times but they get over it quickly and the next minute they're laughing and having a wonderful time again.
Personal problems of a dramatic nature are explored. Well -- "explored" is the wrong word. "Glanced at" is better. Most of the conversation revolves around sex and includes the revelation of masturbatory fantasies, sometimes about kinky dreams or experiences, several of them illustrated in flashbacks or imaginary sequences.
Gosh. I didn't know girls talked like this! I mean, I was aghast. Here they are slinging around words like "clitoris". (What's a clitoris, again?) And sodomy -- only good, old-fashioned Anglo-Saxon words are used, while those of Latin parentage are avoided.
The pace is headlong and the movie is never boring. It's especially not boring when Kim Cattrall is running around in this tiny pink piece of lingerie -- I don't know what it's called -- the shoe-string thin dorsal strap of which disappears for most of its length within her gluteal sulcus. I found it a little boring when the gay chatter turned to domination and bondage but then I'm not into that sort of thing, although I never seemed able to convince my ex wife of that. And actually it was instructive to learn about how to insert a tampon.
It was also educational in the sense that I learned that ladies of this ilk don't use the F word as verbal punctuation nearly as often as men do. I was a little disappointed in not finding out what the bisexual hostess did when she was with her lesbian lover. Tribadism, cunnilingus, mutual masturbation, some kind of plastic instruments -- what? There isn't really a nimiety of nudity and not an abundance of simulated sex. It's not really a "dirty movie." More like one of those plays in which everyone gets progressively tighter on booze and more revelatory.
I must say I didn't get that much of a kick out of it. I kept wondering why it was made, but others might find it more familiar and friendlier territory. I've always thought Dana Delaney deserved better than she's gotten in the way of roles. There's something about her big shiny teeth and naturally compressed lips that suggests a healthful blend of sexuality and nurturance. And Kim Cattrall is always enjoyable as a madcap vampiress. The other performers aren't bad either, however much the over-emphatic script, with all that fake cackling, tries to undo them.