The Brat Pack
The Brat Pack makes heavy nods to the youth-oriented films of the ’80s. Note the DVD copy: “They may be pretty in pink but their fire is not St. Elmo’s!” As an all-sex offering, there’s none of the coming-of-age introspection of the John Hughes catalog here. However, there is plenty of coming—the narrative glue holding this effort together. Paige Owens is a pretty enough dirty blonde, emphasis on dirty. When she’s caught in the act of taking crotch-shot selfies, Owens teases her potential sex-mate with a millennial’s self-indulgence, instructing him to look but not touch before allowing him to bury his snout in her crotch croissant. Eventually she haughtily plants her face on his prick. Owens’ regal detachment gives way to feral screams as the dude’s cock lays waste to her sense of entitlement like a battering ram. Tight-bodied, exotic brunette Maya Bijou is quite the opposite—she demands her beau’s bone and attention as he’s yapping on the phone, in a nice bit of gender reversal. Bijou is like a cat in heat, writhing as she awaits her man’s slammer, and she proves to be limber as fuck, her legs spreading like melted butter to accommodate dick in a variety of positions. Thanks to its fresh female talent—women who weren’t even born when Pretty in Pink was released, The Brat Pack is more totally bitchin’ than grody to the max. —P.D.R.