Directed by B. Skow
Nikki Jayne, w/ Kristina Rose, Anthony Rosano, Andy San Dimas, Danny Mountain, Bobbi Starr, Mr. Marcus, James Deen, Mick Blue, Evan Stone
You know what? Nikki’s House, a recent release from Vivid Entertainment and directed by big-deal-for-some-unknown-fucking-reason B. Skow, doesn’t really pack much of a punch as far as… well… anything in particular. It’s a pretty standard, run-of-the-mill skin flick with a cute but formulaic plot, some humorous acting bits, and fairly fappable stroke scenes. The chicks are hot and the guys have nice dicks and… that’s really about it. But despite all this middle-of-the-line masturbation material… I really liked it.
I can’t say why exactly. I guess maybe because it’s just, fundamentally, exactly what a kind of clever, self-effacing fuck flick should be. It’s got everything it needs: voyeurism (Nikki Jayne arrives at her house-sitting job interview to see the owner, Kristina Rose, getting boned); intrigue (Kristina’s grandmother gave her an antique vase from Italy before she died, yet this vase is clearly a standard-issue, clearance-rack Target purchase; why does Kristina love this vase so much???); sex toys (Nikki gets busy immediately upon getting the gig, with her Hitachi Magic Wand); violence (Nikki’s antics knock the vase off the table and shatters it); extortion (dude wants eight grand to repair the vase); lying and cheating (Nikki decides to rent the house out hourly to make the money to fix the vase); metatextualism (a porn crew comes to film a scene—while in fact it’s already a porno! Genius!); anal (Nikki does anal in the meta-porno, duh); prostitution (Bobbi Starr rents the house for a few hours to sell her body…); creepy voyeurism (…while Nikki watches from the closet); cowboys (Evan Stone: enough said); throat fucking (Evan Stone again); Jewish jokes (James Deen shows up to film for a reality show and can’t resist a bagel joke); screaming orgasms (Andy San Dimas comes over to bang him); and more prostitution (Nikki fucks the vase guy to make up the last five hundred of the eight grand). Sadly, several chances for lesbian action were missed, but we got just about everything else we could’ve asked for aside from that.
Pros: Nikki Jayne’s sexy/silly accent from northern England enhances the movie and her “acting” prowess, given that anybody delivering lines in that weird lilt is bound to sound slow. Evan Stone fucking in cowboy boots is entertaining (I’m sure he’s done it before, numerous times, but it’s my first experience). Bobby Starr’s ass is amazing. Nikki Jayne’s breasts are works of art. I laughed a few times.
Cons: This movie was exactly like every other fuck flick I’ve seen in the past year or two. Maybe that alt shit really is getting to me, but I was pretty bored most the time. None of the scenes here were eyebrow-raising enough (I mean, no lesbian scenes and no threesomes?) and although the sex was solid (San Dimas/Deen, particularly, ripped out a scorcher), most of the flick was just ‘good.’
I think maybe the reason I ended up enjoying such a mediocre outing, however, was that watching it felt much like watching a mostly-uninteresting, standard issue Hollywood rom-com. You know exactly what to expect, you get it, and you still get a few chuckles out of it—and a solid four or five spews, in this case. One can’t complain, and one walks away feeling mysteriously fulfilled with a satisfying serving of Gerard Butler in their systems. …maybe that’s just me. But you know what I mean.
Give it a try and a tug here. —Miss Lagsalot