The Plot:
Ummm...a bunch of guys in lame wrestling masks talk incessantly about their seedy fixation to a hand held camera. Some girls decide to have sex with them, then with each other. Pornography ensues. That's it. What, do we have to draw you a map?

The DVD:
Make no mistake about it. Forget the Amazon availability and the standard review sectioning. Nympho Libre is 100% pure, grade A (or actually, more like grade Z) hardcore pornography. It's all here - penetration, oral copulation, anal probing and bountiful facial pop shots. About the only thing missing from this otherwise archetypal adult title is the necessary bonus features revolving around phone sex, website advertising, and XXX photo galleries. Lord knows what possessed exploitation historian (and old time rockabilly aficionado/performer) Johnny Legend to become a certified sleaze merchant, but no half-assed El Santo mask is going to hide the fact that this one time fixture of the tackier tracts of Tijuana has moved directly from subtlety to s*ck and f*ck. No matter how you weird it up, no matter the amount of incredibly lame wrestling dialogue you interject into the mix, no matter how many derivative double entendres you throw at the audience, what you wind up with is Chi Chi LaRue mixed with El Chupa nibre. It wouldn't be so bad if Legend and his partner in horndog hate crimes, Toby Dammit, had decided to stick with the funny over the friggin'. Indeed, thanks to last year's nominal hit, Nacho Libre, a really smart spoof - with SOFTCORE overtones - could be fashioned out of all this Hispanic square circle mania.

But no, we have to experience the standard sex film shuck and jive, complete with illogical set-ups, groan inducing seductions, and less than stimulating shark attacks. Granted, the gals presented are down, dirty, and decent - that is, if you like unusual body types and lots of plastic fantastic accessorizing - and their partners will never be members of the Ron Jeremy School of Elite Meat, but if you want or need to see crappy hardcore, grab a few Bang Bros. titles and have a ball. There is no excuse for any of this: not the bumbling blandness of some douche named Hot Rod; not the sequence where some idiot in an Aztec Mummy suit gets a halfhearted hummer; not the final orgy which intercuts Sappho shenanigans with what looks like an outtake from The Sopornos series. No, most professional XXX producers drop deuces more impressive than this, and they don't have to rely on gimmickry and goofiness to get audiences to pay attention (well, that's if you discount the whole phony pro-am angle they've been peddling recently). It makes you wonder about Legend's financial situation. If he needs the money this badly, wouldn't trading on his motion picture expertise be more profitable than creating some subpar smut? Guess not.

From the not as funny as it thinks it is label for his particular perversion - Sex Mex - to the completely false notion that this is all part of some new underground craze sweeping the swingers scene, Nympho Libre fails in almost every department it 'diddles' in. The comedy is crummy, the direction is deplorable, and to make matters worse, the eros is stale and sloppy. About the only value this product has is as a clever way for under-age viewers to buy hardcore without having to go through the standard adult-oriented Internet outlet. Indeed, the packaging, with its cartoon figures and bi-lingual bait and switch (yes, the cover is clearly labeled "XXX - tres equis") just screams adolescent interest levels. And who knows, maybe a few of you out there, long bored by all the mass produced product available from the standard studio machine, will cotton to something that looks like gonzo crossed with garbanzos. There is nothing wrong with unusual takes on the tried and true pornographic formula, as long as you make something that's groin grabbing, not groan inducing. Sadly, Nympho Libre lets us "down" again and again.

The Video:
About as low tech as you can get, the colors are limited and completely faded throughout most of Nympho Libre. The 1.33:1 full screen image is grainy, poorly lit, and renders all skintones flat and lifeless. We do get the occasional moment when the available lamps provide a refreshing bit of recorded pigment (this is true in the last act orgy/solo scene), but overall, this is camcorder crap at its most unwatchable.

The Audio:
Welcome to the single enjoyable element of this entire DVD - the musical soundtrack. A nice and sleazy combination of Tex Mex party timing and old style raucous rock and roll, the song selection here is excellent. Unfortunately, the rest of the mix is mediocre at best. The Dolby Digital Stereo fails to flesh out the internal microphone recording methods, and the dopey dialogue is frequently lost in the surrounding ambient noise. While many might agree that a XXX title doesn't need discussions, those onscreen who think they're being witty might feel otherwise.

The Extras:
Along with a standard Behind the Scenes featurette (21 minutes of been there/done that, especially for seasoned smut fans) and two commentary tracks - one for the film, and one for the Making-of material - Nympho Libre offers very little in the way of added content. As with most adult DVD discussion, the alternate narrative is part put down competition (let's see how many of our costars we can 'comically' criticize), part personal platform ("I love those cute little mask-things"). They will only be entertaining to those who want some minor insights into how these guys and gals feel about selling their sex parts for money. And nothing says 'boring bonus feature' quicker than the image of a sweaty babe wiping man spunk off her face. Yummy.

Final Thoughts:
There is nothing wrong with porn. There is nothing wrong with wrestling. There is nothing wrong with the Mexican mythologizing of said 'sport'. But combining all three of these very different conceits into something sexy takes a level of creativity and horny chutzpah that Nympho Libre just doesn't have. Aside from those who have no personal proclivity meter or well tested tolerances when it comes to hack hardcore, it's hard to envision a true aficionado of arousal finding this title tempting. Therefore, a solid Skip It is in order. Indeed, it's mandated by a critic's public service/consumer advocate sense of duty. There will be those who argue with, and even candidly contradict, this position, but there is such a thing as slack smut - and this is one loony luchadore that's an incredibly lousy lay.

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