Quite by chance, I've been filling in many a blank in the career of once-mighty Michael Raven lately, and this all-sex junker loses him whatever brownie points he may have amassed in my mind.
That's because it's all flash with no content - the sizzle without the steak. Or to torture the metaphor, like watching the tableside Steakhouse preparation of a Caesar Salad without actually getting to eat it, let alone any main course.
There's no dialog either, just six thankfully brief all-sex vignettes that head nowhere in a hurry. Raven seems to be directing filler like those '80s and '90s Playboy VHS tapes I would get in the mail in the form of review copies -all playing identically, only the names and faces (and bodies) of the Playmates and other featured models changing from one video to the next.
I watched "Priceless Fantasies" two weeks ago and all the images Raven conjured up to fill the running time have completely evaporated from my mind: he should have been making tapes for the original Mission Impossible series, you know, the kind (audio that is) that self-destructed right after Steven Hill and later Peter Graves listened to their marching orders.
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