Somebody finally dug up Corey Haim and handed him this weak script, and told him he was acting alongside Priscilla Barnes. Granted blockbuster wasn't in mind for Corey, but just the thought of getting paid sounded nice.

This falls into the so bad it's good genre, but barely. Charles Fleischer was a riot as a gay music video director struggling with the fact that he is a flash in the pan. Brian Gaskill handled the role of demanding arrogant lead singer perfectly, and Priscilla Barnes did an okay job as snobbish band manager. Corey really didn't have a role. He was basically chewing scenery, playing second fiddle to Gaskill.

The main draw for this film is the braindead Playboy bunnies trying to act. Granted, Carrie Stevens and Angela Little are gorgeous, but they have no business uttering dialogue. They make Shannon Tweed and Kelly Monaco seem like the Hepburns.

The best eye-candy in this film was Jaime Anstead and Heather Tindell. Heather was outshined by Jaime however, and I quickly subscribed to the Anstead Fan Club afterwards. She was perfect in her role as the spoiled naive producer's daughter who Gaskill was using to get a record deal. Jaime redefines sexy, and I recommend this film to see her alone.