Roll up, roll up for the mystery tour, they're dying to take you away! In terms of on-camera refinement, Jonathan Morgan and Stephen St. Croix are the Emily Post of ad-libs. Not a second goes by that the Hope and Crosby of the porn universe don't have a wry comment, a rubbery expression, or a sarcastic aside. (Though I doubt that Dorothy Lamour ever sucked as mean a dick as unflappable, lascivious Leena.)
Like lemmings to the sea, moths to the flame, flies to... a no-pest strip, these guys are so drawn to the camera that one wonders if they tape themselves sleeping, lest one of their snores might be amusing enough to save for posterity. The damndest thing of all is that asleep, Morgan and St. Croix are funnier than most professional stand-ups awake. Virtually every second of running time, you'll find St. Croix performing expert impressions (William Shatner, Bobcat Goldthwait, Jack Nicholson) or Morgan winging out a hilarious riff (like the one on flavored douches: "cinnamon, hickory stick and pine-nut!" — or Denver weather: "It lets you know that
men have nipples, too!").
What any of this has to do with sex is strictly coincidental. To the casual observer, Reel Sex World is apt to be a trip to the funny farm in the most literal sense, since much of their repartee is derived from personal friendship, in-jokes, and an accumulation of delirious professional team-ups. For the new viewer, a mandatory years' worth of exposure to their previous outings (such as Best Video of '93 Haunted Nights) is recommended simply to build up an immunity to their manic energy.
Through it all, Leena hangs in there as a counterbalance if not a bastion of relative sanity. This particular road trip, which she instigates, is a,jaunt to Denver to catch up with a few of her swinging female friends. (One friend, Sharon, is a lusty, compact little girl-next-door who should think of relocating to L.A., ASAP.)
Before the vacation even gets underway, Kitty Yung stops by to help Leena pack and soon they're packing tongues into each other's labial luggage. Morgan enters the fracas, slamming Kitty doggie-style (kind of sounds like a Chuck Jones cartoon, doesn't it?) and his resulting geyser of jism — right into Leena's astonished face — makes him comment exhaustedly, "I think I just came my spleen!".
After much airport silliness, the fornicating furlough begins in earnest when Leena hooks up with a delectable little number for a lesbian limo ride, and later snags another female friend for a hotel room four-way with the men. In fact, all of the sex takes place in either moving vehicles or generic hotel rooms, and the effect is somewhat claustrophobic. (Lush Hawaiian locations ought to relieve that in the next episode — Ed.)
However, there is such an abundance of genuine carnal activity — replete with semi-public humping, group gropes, anal plunges and socko facial shots that even the most uninformed raincoater ought to enjoy the series on a singular level. More problematic is the awkward videography, which ofttimes makes the participants appear as if they're playing jai-alai on the deck of the Titanic. While the intent to realize a cinema verite style is acknowledged, cameraman Pepe Le Pew might think of investing in a Steadycam Jr., a few soft lights, and a macro lens for tighter hardcore action, especially climaxes.
Considering the popularity of our libertine trio, these faults are relatively minor and the fans should go ape-shit. Besides, St. Croix is the only man alive I know who can A) preen himself in the camera's reflective lens while his sex partner writhes obliviously below; and B) do a Curly "Woo Woo Woo" Howard impression while in the throes of mid-orgasm. Stock heavily, Reel Sex World is an easy sell for regular viewers.