 Three young housewives, feeling neglected and abandoned after their spouses go off together on their latest hunting trip, try out at an elite brothel run by the glamorous Madam Brittany for kicks and cash. But what begins as a sexy lark takes on greater consequences, and soon becomes a life-changing experience for the sexy trio -- especially once the dark secret shared by their patronizing, inattentive husbands is revealed. There is much more to the story than at first meets the eye. Played entirely straight, and quite earnestly, by the (mostly adult film) performers, Call Girl Wives is a sly, subversive satire of the entire late-night erotic genre -- often derisively called "Skin-aMax movies." Its dialogue, often hilarious, could not be more sparse, leaving the director, Michael Whiteacre, to tell the tale, and alternately direct and misdirect the viewer, through the use of visuals and a few examples of surprisingly complex sound design. The stylistic techniques and effects (many traceable to films like Sexy Beast (2000) and Bubba Ho-tep (2002)) could not be more simple or sublime, become a veritable character in the story, and serve as counterpoint to the frequently bizarre, off-kilter dialogue -- all of which points to an auteur daring the passive or accidental viewer to pay attention as he perversely deconstructs not just any genre, but the genre LEAST deserving of serious consideration. With every split-screen indulgence and cinematic in-joke, Call Girl Wives proclaims: 1) The guy who made this knows great movies, and, 2) he knows that this isn t one of them -- so enjoy the ridiculous stylistic lengths to which he is going in order to tell such a dumb story. The revelation of the husbands  secret, though hinted at repeatedly, is absolutely hilarious, and the film itself represents both a treatise on female empowerment as well as an obvious love poem to its star, Amanda Auclair. Her character, (eponymous, as are all the women s) emerges from the stale trope of "the sweet, dumb one of the three" and ascends the pedestal of virtuous slut-goddess. Either in proportion to the frame or in underlying import, she dominates every scene in which she appears. Emerging from her desaturated homestead, by the end she has been bathed in golden firelight, late-afternoon s autumnal glow, ethereal moonlight, and more, all of which she absorbs regally. While the constraints of an obviously tight shooting schedule are sometimes apparent in the final film, every frame in which Amanda appears is perfect. A veteran of many an adult movie (as Shyla Stylez), her likeness is well known, but never before has she seemed so majestically beautiful, and so understatedly so. Such, then, is the way of Call Girl Wives: simple means, complexly calculated and applied, toward a beautiful, simple, and unforgettable end.