Starring Brandee Schaefer, Amy Reid, Rebecca Love, Frankie Cullen, Lucia Santos, Julie K. Smith, Guy Green

Directed by "Salvadore Ross" AKA Jim Wynorski

Boobs.

Big boobs. Small boobs. Natural boobs. Fake boobs. Boobs that engage in guy-on-girl sex. Boobs that engage in girl-on-girl sex. Boobs that engage in guy-on-girl-on-girl sex. Boobs acting like even bigger boobs.

Welcome to Cleavagefield. Jim Wynorksi's... I mean Salvadore Ross' found footage T&A softcore spoof of Cloverfield. The humor is sophomoric to say the least and the jokes spoofing Cloverfield aren't all that witty. This is a movie where military men are named General Mayhem, Corporal Punishment, and Private Lapdance. Take out all the sex and naked prancing for the camera and the 75-minute movie would probably only be about 20-minutes long. Yet still an undeniably superior Cloverfield knock-off than The Asylum's Monster.

Cleavagefield opens with a horny cameraman and his girlfriend making a sex tape. They then go to a sex party and meet up with a few other busty gals. That party is brought to a halt when the decapitated head of a Bob's Big Boy statue flies down the street. Enter the monster. Exit the women. The camera guy films everything as the women run for safety, behaving like a horny pervert making sarcastic comments while focusing the camera on their breasts and butts as often as possible. His telling the terrified women running for their lives to stay together to stay in frame was the only gag that got a chuckle out of me.

Their journey will lead to sexual encounters and various reasons to get naked. Such as when the monster spits green slime on the women forcing them to duck into a massage parlor and take a long, very in-depth, group shower. Hands and mouths substituting for wash cloths and luffas.

The way Cloverfield kept cutting away between the now events and the footage of the two leads on their date prior is parodied by having the footage of their impending ordeal periodically cut to footage of two bikini girls in Girls Gone Wild situations the perverted camera guy shot on his last assignment that he keeps insisting to his girlfriend was merely him shooting tropical scenery for The Travel Channel.

To me the monster looked like if the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade had a "Denver, the Last Dinosaur" balloon that suddenly sprang to life. You can't really complain about the quality of the CGI monster in a no budget T&A jigglefest.

Flying lobsters are also falling off the bigger monster and buzzing about the city. Disappointingly, little comes of this outside of the absurd imagery of flying lobsters with insect wings.

Like with Cloverfield, their escape backslides into a rescue, only here it’s a quest to save the girlfriend’s pet chihuahua, Fifi, trapped in their Beverly Hills high-rise apartment. They have to hurry too because, according to the TV news, this giant monster has a thing for stomping on dogs, preferably poodles and chihuahuas.

Cleavagefield doesn't even have any sort of ending, the kind of annoying non-ending that would leave you asking what was the point of this movie but then you remember, "Oh, yeah. Boobs."

Cleavagefield is pretty much a critic-proof because, honestly, a movie of this nature exists beyond the realm of scrutiny, merely an excuse to get a group of chesty actresses in skimpy bosom-hugging outfits out of their bosom-hugging outfits to engage in softcore sex scenes or simply dance around topless.

To be perfectly honest, for my own personal tastes, the term "butterface" sprang to mind quite often. Then again, their faces aren't really that important. This movie isn't about faces, nor is it about arms or legs, just the parts in between.

A movie of this nature is all but beyond ordinary critical ratings. I'll just give Cleavagefield a two. Not because I believe a two accurately reflects the quality of the movie; for some reason two just seems the most appropriate, if not symbolic.

2 STARS