Reviewed by

Christopher Armstead

There is absolutely no joy or satisfaction in having to do this.  Honest.  I’m thinking that there is no way in the world that this flick ‘Confessions of a Call Girl’ is going to suck.  I’m thinking it’s going to be damn near impossible.  I’m looking at a cast that includes Bokeem Woodbine, Clifton Powell, Lynn Whitfield and Roger Guenveur Smith.  I’m looking at a film that stars Tamala Jones who, in a word, is fine…. And she plays a prostitute, so just the THOUGHT of Tamala Jones playing a high class hooker is almost enough to rate a good review.  Just the thought.  But here I am to tell you that ‘Confessions of a Call Girl’ sucked and it sucked HARD.  So believe me when I tell you that there no joy in trashing this movie, particularly when this movie stars and is created by my people.  But it is my obligation as dictated by the code of the unpaid unread film critics of America to tell you the truth – and the truth is ugly.

Ms. Jones assumes the role of Dr. Tory Adams.  Tory is a hard working MD of some undetermined specialty, the loving wife of her Fortune 500 lawyer husband Miles (Woodbine) and the mother of a lovely little girl.  Somehow though Tory also finds the time to be high class whore which I would think leaves precious little time for things like food and sleep.  Tory though isn’t a whore by choice as she is addicted to whoring and as such is searching for some ‘help’ for her ‘sickness’.  She enlists the help of psychoanalyst Dr. Page (Whitfield) who is digging deep for the answers for Tory’s ‘illness’.

In between getting help, Tory’s alter ego likes to play with her clients such as the man who dresses up as a priest (Guenveur-Smith) and plays bongos on her ass, the mayor who likes to dress up in a bra and panties, or the woman who likes to dress up as a

man and get down in the public library.  Unfortunately, as tends to happen in these kinds of movies, there is the one client we never should have taken on played by Chad L. Coleman.  He has apparently made a video tape and is threatening everything Tory holds dear if she doesn’t continue her whoring ways, at least with him.  Things start to close in on Tory as her life as a whore and her life as a New York socialite start to collide which leads to arguably the STUPIDEST ENDING IN MOVIE HISTORY.

There are so many things wrong with this movie the challenge is to find out where to start.  Let’s begin with a minor thing, the fact Tory as a whore apparently charges ten thousand dollars a hit.  TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS!  Let’s just say for ten large she better come to the house wearing an apron and have a broom in her hand, 8 hours a day for the next six months, and that’s on top of her whoring duties.  I know that the actors in this movie are good because I’ve seen what they can do, but the script they are saddled with in ‘Confessions’ is so poor that there was nothing they could do with it.  The dialog was so weak and the majority of the situations were so ridiculous that watching it almost became painful.  One of the funnier scenes was Tory’s therapist encouraging Tory to come clean to her husband about her whoring as he will be hurt more by the deception as opposed to the actual whoring itself.  What’s funny about this it that they made Woodbines lawyer character a complete hot headed nutjob who wanted to choke the woman to death for missing a PTA meeting.  Imagine how ‘Hey Honey, I’m a whore’ is going to go over.

Aside from suspect camera work, the weak script, the poor acting and the lack of chemistry between the characters, the possibly biggest crime of ‘Confessions’ is that it’s just not sordid enough.  There’s almost no nudity with Tamala Jones giving us just a brief tit shot, so brief in fact that you had BEST have your finger on the pause button if you don’t want to miss it.  She does almost all of her whoring with her clothes though she does talk plenty dirty, but I’m sorry, for ten thousand dollars my prostitutes going to have to at least get naked.  I mean I got to see a glimpse of Bokeem Woodbines ass but NOT Tamala Jones.  Is this a forgivable sin?  I think not.  There was an interesting scene where Lynn Whitfield had to do this ‘deep massage’ therapy on Ms. Jones in while she was in her bra and panties, reason being we are told it unearths the ‘deep recesses’ of the mind.  Can you say ‘psychiatric license revoked’?  We won’t get into the ending, but as it was the ending is so horrible that the movie is almost worth sitting through just so the world can see what Writer / Producer / Director Lawrence Page conjured up as a conclusion for his mess of a movie.

Other than Clifton Powell uttering some truly remarkable lines such as ‘girl, get on your knees and finish what she started’ I don’t think there’s been a collection of this much good Black talent in a film this bad ever.  Rent at your own risk.  Ten thousand dollars… Shit, she better come with a four cylinder engine, reclining bucket seats and have KIA stamped on her forehead. Ten thousand dollars…

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