Kirsten Price is flawlessly yummy, and the chemistry between her and real-life husband Barrett Blade is sizzling. Shyla Styles is appropriately nasty in her two(!) revenge fuck scenes. With his cigarette-honed gravel voice, Randy Spears, in a non-sex role as the army drill seargant, channels R. Lee Emery Louis Gossett Jr.
Special commendation for the setting and wardrobe. The small town setting is perfect with the gas station garage, the drive-in theater, the 2-star motel, and the thin-walled apartments easily identifiable to us working-class stiffs who could only dream about living in one of the McMansions that serve as settings for most porn movies.
Discussing plot elements of a porn movie is often a pointless exercise, but when a director takes this much care, it is justifiable to point out a couple of puzzling issues.
Minor: How plausible is Barrett Blade when he encourages Kirsten to take a jacket because it's cold outside, when he shows up in a sleeveless muscle shirt?
Major (SPOILER): Brad's company is ambushed by snipers, and he is shot and declared dead. A memorial service is held, apparently without a body. It turns out that he was taken to a military hospital where he suffered amnesia. So are we to believe he lost his dog tags? That even if he did, there was no other way to identify him? And that once he regained his memory, he didn't call home to let everyone know he was okay? Sure, this is the major plot point that hinges the entire movie, but with as much care taken to the rest of the film, this is a glaring hole. Maybe he could have been a victim of an IED which could, conceivably, make identification more difficult. Or, maybe he could have been shot down while in a helicopter transport.
Still, when I remember that it is porn, I admire the attempt; kudos to Armstrong and Wicked. The girls are gorgeous, the sex is good, and overall, I give it a passing grade.