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Same Time Every Year

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Directed by: 
Fred J. Lincoln
Loni Sanders,
Mike Ranger
Tiffany Clark
Bottom Line: 

While filmed in the 1970’s this is a well written adult film about the timeless difficulty of maintaining a relationship based on honesty, trust and respect for your spouse.. Just kidding! This is the story of three male friends who concoct an elaborate business trip alibi so once every year they can escape their wives and bang everything that moves.  Not to be outdone or to be left out of the fun, the wives also engage on a series of random affairs and prove that when it comes to being a lying promiscuous pile of shit, women have achieve a complete equality with men, a rare moment in adult film from this era. You’ve come a long way, baby.

Trying to write witty prose about a film with a cover featuring a screen shot from the film where a millisecond later it becomes “Rated XXX”, is a ponderous bit of pretentiousness even for me so I am not going to provide a “blow by blow” accounting of the individual sex scenes in this.

Instead I am going to talk about the premise, all of the players in this film have sex with their spouses and then a scene or two later with a complete stranger expressing the exact same nonchalance and immediate all- consuming eagerness.  If you are just looking for an excuse to watch people “do it” vintage style this film is as good as any of the hundreds of films which are available everywhere.  In order for this to really sing it would have been great if there would have been some anger, some jealousy or at least a little bit of intensity which would roughly pass for human emotion.  But there is none.  The men “do their wives goodbye” and scenes later they are doing someone else. The wives fully know what they men are up to, but they are neither hurt, betrayed nor eventually redeem their self-esteems with casual lesbian experimentation with each other.  Admittedly there is some, more than a little of that, but in a film about the failings of romantic love, it would have been good just to see one character appear to actually care about the actual sex they are having.

Before you accuse me of becoming a cliché as I pause to actually attack the acting in a porno film and suspect I have finally imploded, collapsed upon myself like a giant supernova of sexploitation after reviewing hundreds of films, let me just say that this film made me wish they would have developed the relationship between the cuckolds and their mistresses to make the sex actually mean something, and by that to make it ideologically filthy. Let me explain.

Soap operas, while the lowest form of estrogen infused swill that has ever been broadcast, knows one trick but they know it well and that is you must build a relationship before you can wreck it.  This is why Soap Opera weddings are the most watched episodes of any particular series even though everyone really knows that no two characters that are married will ever remain faithful. Yet the pomp and circumstance of all the hopes and dreams of a young couple standing there in a church before God and all the well-wishers and members of the community tend to make the sex scenes really pop, especially the ones happening next week between the groom and one of the bridesmaids.  By saying this I am not speaking against tradition, love or monogamous relationships in general. I am just saying that all films should have a form of tension in them other than visible onscreen erections and without it, the sex scenes while explicit, simply don’t mean anything.

Yet as far as a mindless exhibition of sleaze this is as apt as any XXX film.  A jilted wife brings her car into the shop because has a “broken rod” and is offered certain services from a couple of mechanics that are not covered by triple A.  A young Ron Jeremy picks up a jogger on her way to a “girlfriends house” and before you can ask “I wonder she meant by girlfriend” (as I immediately secretly ponder whenever I hear a woman use that term of affection) they are already ruining a hot tub’s PH balance as only a trio of consenting adults can.  Finally, two of the lonely women go horseback riding and incorporate a riding crop in the exact way that you have already guessed by reading the context of this paragraph.  

The print looks remastered and the soundtrack was peppered with the faint sound alike songs of Devo and Blue Oyster Cult. Synth music and eighties porn just belong together. Like the chunky bass riffs from the adult films from a decade before them.  It seems nostalgia is always a terrible and ugly thing for those who weren’t alive back then, yet I was and this film is adequate.

As a filthy, fuck-filled testament to the selfishness of the eighties this is passable.  My biggest gripe is that the cover art contains a bigger moment of impending surprise than the actual film and even then I am sure most of you figured out what happens next…

Extras include nothing…

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