Patsy Kensit, with her permanently puckered lips, takes us into the innermost thoughts of a sexual adventuress who seems to feel that sleeping with two men at more or less the same time, one of whom is borderline impotent, requires the disclaimer: "I don't want you getting the idea I'm a nymphomaniac or anything." More accurately, her innermost thoughts come rushing straight out at us in the form of direct address to the camera. She's first seen wearing an aquamarine facial mask ("When this comes off I'm gonna look like Grace Kelly"), and is soon scrubbing her feet in the bidet, jabbering at us the whole while. This sort of business is interrupted for long periods by intimate scenes whose air of verisimilitude seems to depend on a stumbling, teetering camera. (The director, more often a producer, is Don Boyd.) The pressing question becomes: How soon till embarrassment is overtaken by boredom? Fortunately an answer arrives long before the heroine starts talking to us while actually sitting on the potty. (1991) — Duncan Shepherd
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