After banging a famed director's trophy wife, Summer Brielle, and subsequently sending the poor old bastard into cardiac arrest, D-list director James Deen absconds with his finest of scripts in "The Masterpiece", a very good comedy from Wicked Pictures and Jonathan Morgan. In a vain attempt at then making the work his own, James runs headlong into a variety of roadblocks, including a low budget scored from a sketchy mob type (Toni Ribas), a ridiculously poor cast, and an utter lack of any real talent of his own. With Ribas breathing down his neck and with his career riding on it all, whether James will sink or swim is completely up in the air. What is for certain, however, is that he (...and everyone around him...) will definitely be fucking, and that's all that truly matters.