The multiple-partner fantasy crowd (and their closeted admirers) will get many laughs and the occasional insight from Opie Gets Laid. James Ricardo’s (who also wrote the snappy script and stars as Opie) first feature whets the appetite for more as it tracks the metamorphosis of a geeky, fast-food devouring, jerk-off meister into a fuck-by-appointment Don Juan for the Levis set.
The women he encounters come in all proportions, persuasions and peculiarities. On the road to hedonism he first surfs the net, offering “a dong you can skip rope with” but doesn’t give good phone so ends up sleeping with his pot-pushing lesbian friend, Thai (April Wade). Much of the fun comes in the pre- and post- “three-minute egg” couplings. The overhead cam dutifully records such gems as Opie’s penchant to wax his hairy ass, and how men (a.k.a. politicians) promise women (a.k.a. voters) anything in order to get “into the oval office.”
Flashbacks to miserable first dates provide yuks of their own. Running over a cat after meeting Alicia (Gena DeVetorri, a humane society employee, of course) subtly underscores the metaphor of Opie’s bad luck getting pussy with discretion and fur. Meeting Kim’s nudist parents (shouldn’t she have been called Buffy?), then invited to strip down with them adds a great ‘60s feel to the proceedings. Sadly, the one-time man-to-man encounter with a hairdresser never makes it to the screen (Aha! That’s the sequel).
Next up is Thai’s sexy bitch, Dakota (the beautiful Ute Werner who needs a few more ounces of butch to convince anyone that muff diving is her preference). Once over the shock of Thai cheating with a male, Dakota opts for a taste of man muffin herself. From daily workouts with the palm sisters to tag-team dykes on demand, Opie’s having the time of his life. When, inevitably, his dorking of both is discovered, an oh-so-adult peace dinner is convened. After admitting Dakota’s the better lay, Opie gets temporarily cut off when the women decide to call it quits.
No matter, bring on the Vivaldi. One of the great attributes of this film is the use of music. Particularly the classics: The Red Priest, Bach and Mozart’s string writing proves, again, just how timeless their sentiments are. In this instance, the excerpt from The Seasons seamlessly reinforces the introduction of the pushy Internet troll, Rain (Jesselynn Desmond, who delights with her odious lechery, bringing her own gun as a bed-warming present). Don’t miss the match-lighting joke—happily reminiscent of Portnoy’s Complaint.
Theatre lovers will have a marvellous feeling of déjà vue as Opie ends up sleeping with every babe (one at a time) on offer (including a down-the-hall neighbour—Samantha Turk), despite several invitations to take in a swingers club. Not so far removed from Noël Coward’s zany Design for Living.
With so many responsibilities, it’s Ricardo’s show and, for the most part he more than rises to the tasks. But as director/writer/star it’s hard to deliver the hilarious dialogue and not reveal that, since the jokes are (mainly) his creations, he already knows the punch lines. Accordingly, some of the payoff lines are begun even before their set-up has had time to sink in. Unity of conception is great, but another set of ears, eyes and voice in the creative process would lift this thoroughly entertaining examination of the lust that lurks within even our shut-ins from good to great. JWR