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Dorcel and director Ricky Greenwood earn an E for effort in this 3-hour lovely but empty porn exercise, emerging as something of a tribute to hedonism. It depicts a night-long secret invitation-only party (for the in-crowd of folks who want to dance, drink and have sex) held at a secret location, in this case through the back door of a laundromat. I guess someday it will play in a free-thinking revival house on a double bill with "My Beautiful Laundrette".

Glamorized with bedazzled fake jewels pasted on their faces, a very stylish motif for the femmes in the movie (sort of a riff on Jeri Ryan's Seven of Nine "Star Trek" look decades back), Casey Calvert and Kira Noir are the party girls who play the leading roles, giving the password to mean-looking bouncer Mick Blue (his hair slicked back as if in an SNL parody of Germanic hipsters in black turtlenecks) at the laundromat, and then are logged in by mysterious Victoria Voxxx, who gives special VIP bracelets to whoever she takes a fancy to, a hint of her special place in the starry cast.

Various sexual combinations ensue in the free-love atmosphere of the neon and blue-lit club, with pulsating music knitting the scenes together en route to an inevitable orgy finale. Interracial sex is emphasized, and a rather blase but quite positive (everything is everything) approach is taken to beautiful TS superstar Emma Rose as the principal deejay, getting the sex off to a fine start via a lesbian threesome with Casey and Kira.

This is no Studio 54 or Plato's Retreat, but it sure reminds one of the '70s, a "Looking for Mr. Goodbar" setting without a hint of danger or drugs or violence. It's a lovely to look at film but empty. That's mainly because however talented he is as a porn director, Ricky aka Eric Boisvert cannot overcome the gonzo revolution, which has turned porn into 30 minute to hour long parcels -vignettes - which in feature form leave very little time to provide anything more than cursory dialogue/characterization. And for this three-hour package, the obligatory elongated sex scenes inevitably dominate, precluding anything resembling involvement in some story.

So one sits back and watches in voyeur and/or masturbator mode. For me, ever the historian, a chief disappointment at the end, when Victoria emerges into the pink-tint (near monochrome) of morning after a heavy night of partying, that the perhaps 30 or 40 attractive extras in the cast received no credit, just a "we thank all of you" dumb acknowledgment. I could recognize a few familiar faces, but only Kimmy Kimm and Laney Grey passing by the camera for a second or two got a positive ID from me.