Joey and Carl fuck, suck and eat their way through Henry Miller's Paris, the last frontier for the American hero to conquer. There's lots of women, and the studs waste no time getting them on the bed, in the bath, on the floor, anytime, anywhere, anyhow. Cartoon bubbles, subtitles, and Country Joe's music fill in the thoughts and keep it moving. Rodda's bad acting defies description. You might dismiss the whole thing as a superior skinflick; nevertheless it goes a long way towards conveying what Miller was about, giving the feel of Paris behind the feel of the crack. It's also often quite funny, which should be sufficient recommendation for those who have sat through one dour sex film too many.