Reviewed by SexHerald Staff
If you’re like me, the mere thought of an adult film featuring a paraplegic heroine makes you wince. But the surprise here isn’t so much that the character is handled with relative sensitivity. The real shocker is that the film spends so much time reaching for real emotion it pays little attention to its pornographic purposes. The result is a movie with boring sex and a ridiculous storyline.
Kaitlyn Ashley plays Michelle, a girl restricted to a wheelchair after an unspecified accident. Building audience sympathy for her with all the subtlety of a bulldozer, almost every character she encounters is comically cruel, from her wicked stepmother (who spends all her time laying around the house in a negligee drinking scotch and telling Michelle how worthless she is) to a jogger she encounters in the park who slaps her lean, firm legs and says, “We women know how important it is to keep our legs nice and tight so we can wrap them around during the sex.” The only character who shows her the slightest kindness is her physical therapist, whom she has a crush on.
But the plot really gets going when Michelle receives a magic diary from a man we take to be Satan cleverly disguised as a homeless guy (the box calls him “a mysterious bookseller,” making me wonder if these people watch their own movies). By describing in the diary cruel fates for her enemies, she vanquishes them for all eternity to its pages. Her stepmother is the first to go, being sentenced to “being fucked by a man and a woman.” Frankly, after the things the stepmother has said and done to Michelle it seems like a kind choice of punishment, but it provides the film’s best scene, as the stepmother is sent to some dimly lit circle of hell where Michelle’s sentence is carried out. Maybe it’s the lighting, or maybe we really have come to root for Michelle, but the scene has an undeniable kinky charge as a silent man and woman subject the protesting stepmother to a variety of bisexual shenanigans.
In general, the scenes in the pages of the diary are superior to those outside, where the film is lit with a dull porn flatness that only underscores the predictability of the sex. But the real problem is the abundant and awful dialogue. During one interminable scene at the end of the movie, as Michelle reveals to her therapist the power of the diary and confesses her love for him, it felt like I was the one banished for all eternity, but instead of an orgy I was trapped in some cable access soap opera. DearDiary
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