When the dust settles, I believe you'll find the Casanova series is a triumph of a slick marketing campaign and certain noteworthy sex performances. Qualitatively, director Lincoln has delivered more consistently entertaining, well-packaged and worth stocking.

Happily, the flagging soap opera plot's been jettisoned, leaving Julia Ann's visualizations of Rocco-Casanova's torrid diary entries as the bare-bones thread connecting the sex scenes. Most of them should have remained memories -- this eternal lover's just about run out of steam. As host Rocco appears bored; as a sex performer he's fared better. (It's doubtful if the average viewer may need to see his toes get interminably sucked like a digital shrimp cocktail by Chelsea Lynx.) Even Rocco's facial wad shot in the latter is a mere dribble in comparison to the poolside standing/upside-down fuck 'n' facial with Chanel, a far hotter sequence.

Decked out in a leather & chain ensemble that would make Madonna blush, Julia Ann's first encounter is nonetheless a contrived affair which cuts off abruptly mid-orgasm after some disingenuous crotch-gobbling with Shelby Stevens. However, a lengthy bonfire numbers sparks plenty of visual interest as Julia, painted like a jungle cat, is stalked by anabolic Aaron Colt -- who tames her pussy with expert doggie-style humping.

A fantasy sequence finds Stephanie "The Human Pretzel" DuValle, and Sean "The Great Salami" Michaels playing carnal Twister to the tune of calliope music and jackhammer sound F/X, obviously designed to entice perverted carnival barkers for a little organ grinding behind the midway tent.