Amy's Orgasm

by Brandon Judell


Julie Davis is the Kathie Lee Gifford of film directors, sadly proving once again ego doesn't always go hand in hand with talent.

This is her second film. (If you missed the first, "I Love You, Don't Touch Me!", count your blessings.) Here Davis directs, writes, edits and produces a tale about Amy Mandell, a best-selling "feminist" author who writes a critically acclaimed self-help book for women which declares love doesn't work and that women don't need men to be whole.

The problem is that Amy as depicted is about as feminist as a Victoria's Secret bra on a trailer trash tramp appearing on the Jerry Springer Show. Miss Davis apparently knows as much about the plight of women under subjugation as does a sausage dealer in Kraków.

As for her acting ability, let's just be kind and say she had to **** herself to get the part.

The story, what there is of one, has Amy on a book tour. While appearing on the radio show of a Howard Stern wanna-be, Matthew Starr (the hunky fine actor Nick Chinlund; catch him in A Brother's Kiss), Amy who is very horny falls in love. Matthew reciprocates. Can two folks who pontificate about relationships from two totally antagonistic stances find happiness? Of course.

But before true bliss can show its head, Amy has to be accused of being a lesbian a few times. Though nothing could be further from the truth, her hefty, lesbian publicist (Caroline Aaron) even believes it, so much so she makes a pass at Amy, kissing her on the lips in an embarrasssing, unbelievable act of desperation.

But nothing here is as desperate as Miss Davis, a woman of limited intelligence and wit, whose only talent is apparently her capability for raising money to make films with the depth of an inchworm that's just been hit with a brick.