Just as I was appreciating scriptwriter Jerry Ross's work I hit upon this real clunker from him, nearly insulting. He takes a weak premise and gets zilch out of it.
Slim idea of a story has Ashlyn Gere as an artist who is devoted to painting nudes. We don't get to see her paintings, a chintzy cheat from the git-go.
She turns out to be a voyeuse, who masturbates after getting her models turned on, and watching them f*ck each other while hiding out of their sight.
A couple of subplots are meaningless: her ongoing battle with boyfriend Mike Horner who's also an artist but prudish and criticizes her doing nudes. She also paints in the nude herself, a silly gimmick. The other subplot has her agent Tom Chapman (in a completely nothing role, literally phoned-in) trying as he might to get her shown in Jon Dough's gallery. All Dough ever does is hump his secretary Casssidy, and this "suspense" goes nowhere.
Even the continuity is poor, as scenes are shown out of order. A real stinker despite the camera's love of superstar Gere.
