Meet Monica Velour
Time Out says
Yet another entry in the "porn stars are just like you and me" indie subgenre, this dreary fairy tale involves Napoleon Dynamite--style dork Tobe (Ingram), whose preference for the old over the new extends to X-rated entertainment---specifically, his beloved '80s smut-flick icon, Monica Velour (Cattrall). Lo and behold, providence soon shines upon Tobe's curly 'fro, as he discovers that the out-of-state buyer (David) of his hot-dog truck lives near the strip-club dive where Velour will be appearing. Congratulations to anyone who's figured out that this inspires a road trip fated to end in outcast uplift.
From dirty-movie parodies to the achieving of one's misfit dreams, Keith Bearden's coming-of-age dramedy adheres to the flaccidest of formulas. Cattrall sneers, weeps and drunkenly parades about in dirty sweats, but like Tobe's spastic hip-hop dancing in his underwear, she's merely rehashing degrading clichs. Monica's faded-glory hardships and Tobe's awkward search for self provide zero pathos, while the film's attempt to legitimize lowbrow culture (a character actually dubs a Bob's Big Boy statue "an American Sistine Chapel") couldn't fall flatter. The film succeeds only in turning one's stomach via implausibilities, inanities and the unwelcome sight of Brian Dennehy's naked ass.