by Robert Firsching
review
Prolific director Gary Graver is back with a sequel to his awful 1997 erotic thriller The Escort, and somehow, defying all rational expectations, it's even worse. At less than 83 minutes in length, however, it's still a passable amusement for fans of "so bad it's funny" schlock cinema. Anyone looking for either the "erotic" or the "thriller" in this mess shouldn't bother. The acting in this film is unusually poor, although fans of campy badness will love Donavan's over-the-top performance as the mad shrink. The dialogue is appallingly wretched, ranging from greeting-card sap ("oatmeal reminds me of simpler times") to just plain weirdness ("I'd charge the gates of Hell with a squirt gun if it meant you could avoid this").
