
By Navy Navarro
Remember when Marlon Brando tried to do a musical? And remember when Chaplin attempted a straight dramatic role? And who can forget Silvester Stallone in that string of non-Rocky, non-Rambo parts, playing characters whose names didn’t even begin with R, for cryin’ out loud?!
Well likewise, accomplished thespian Paris Hilton has tried to expand her cinematic repertoire and fallen flat on her sweet, marketable ass.
This film has nothing of the charm, passion and sweaty nakedness of her first internet effort. Where is the cinematic expression of flesh on flesh? Where’s the ad libbed grunting, groaning and squealing of delight? Where oh where is the moist, tactile graininess of young bodies in full-flushed hornicitude?
I think I speak for all mankind when I say, “Get in the bedroom girl, take off of those Barbie Doll clothes (you’re not Marilyn, okay?) and get bizzy!” Let’s put the “show” back in show bizness!
And it’s spelled “naughty,” by the way. Remember what happened in Secretary when the title character misspelled a word? THAT’S what I’m talking about!
(Any time, any place, Paris–I’ll bring the camera.)
Navy Navarro
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