I'm starting to think that Italian director Tinto Brass's funeral will feature a solemn reading of Sir Mix-A-Lot's "Baby Got Back" (or maybe "Il mia donna ha grandi natiche"), backed by an all-girl nude Dixieland combo. Make no mistake, the man's still alive and kicking (or groping and sniffing, as the case may be) and long may he foist his filth, but in the broader canvas of film history, that's how he's ultimately going to be remembered. Tinto Brass is to big ol' ass as Russ Meyer (RIP, dear friend) was to bodacious boobies.

Although still cranking out booty-centric softcore sex films today, Brass is mainly known for taking the helm of the most expensive porn film of all time - the Bob Guccione-produced hardcore epic CALIGULA, in which acting legends Peter O'Toole, John Gielgud and Malcolm McDowell shared screen time with spurting spooge, mass muff-diving, anal fisting, and a man's cock being fed to a dog. Aside from this and a few higher-profile cult items like SALON KITTY (which was basically a naughtier version of Visconti's THE DAMNED), Brass's lesser-known but still adored oeuvre consists mainly of lush, soft-focus sex comedies set against gorgeous European locales, with the main focus placed on the sensual magnificence of the female derriere.

Better resembling a made-for-cable softcore romp than Brass's smoldering earlier works like MIRANDA, THE KEY or ALL LADIES DO IT, CHEEKY (originally titled TRAsgreDIRE, with the Italian word for "betrayal" embedded within the word for "transgression") is even more light-hearted and playful, and eschews even the barest suggestion of plot in order to provide unfettered access to ass-a-plenty... and boy, does it deliver on this particular anatomical fixation. If female buttocks were light bulbs, Tinto's ideal Europe would burn to the ground in a day. There's more peachy hemispheres on display here than the Savannah farmer's market on Saturday morning.

In an odd departure, Tinto's lead actress in CHEEKY, svelte Slav Yuliya Mayarchuk, is significantly skinnier than Tinto's previous stars - like, say, the mega-cantilevered Serena Grandi (MIRANDA) or the creamy-smooth Stefania Sandrelli (THE KEY), but Yuliya still rocks that shelf with the best of 'em.

Carla is an everyday, down-to-earth kind of girl. You know, the kind who smiles coyly while strolling through a public park in see-through micro-skirts and no panties, giggling coquettishly when a sudden breeze affords dozens of passers-by a clear view of her happy-patch. The kind who thinks it's cute when a scruffy flasher opens his raincoat to expose a schlong that resembles the chestburster from ALIEN, to which she responds by flipping up her skirt and giving him a peek at the candy store. By the way, all this and much more takes place during the opening credits, accompanied by a bouncy '80s Euro-cheese groove from celebrated composer Pino Donaggio.

Anyhow, our sweet innocent abroad is in London for an internship, and is in search of living quarters. She soon scores a large and ridiculously unattainable apartment overlooking the Thames thanks to the intercession of Moira (the yummy Francesca Nunzi), a lesbian real estate agent with a sexy pout, grabby hands and variety of day-glo wigs. Carla consents to a little Sapphic groping (despite declaring quite angrily, "I like cock!") in order to close the deal, and the ever-horny Moira is more than eager to (ahem) service her account, so to speak.

Meanwhile, back in Venice, Carla's uptight young beau Matteo (Jarno Berardi) is all in a tizzy about her absence, especially after a conversation with a friend who explains the sexual tension that a little "innocent" cheating can add to a relationship. His suspicions are fueled by an afternoon visit to her parents' flat to pick up her favorite pair of butterfly panties. He explains what he's looking for to her gruff, wife-beater-clad dad, who to my surprise does not instantly kill and dismember him. (I'm guessing they're quite open-minded in Venice.) After sniffing said panties for far too long, he then stumbles across Carla's secret stash of love letters from a Frenchman, with whom she enjoyed a brief but steamy fling.

Carla's infidelities at this point, even in light of her open flirtatiousness, have been practically accidental - just the aforementioned girl-groping from Moira, and a nauseatingly gross encounter with a sweaty old photo shop owner (played by Brass himself, the ultimate opportunist), who lets his stubby, nicotine-stained fingers do the walking, if you get my meaning (I was cleaning puke off my coffee table for an hour after that). But Matteo isn't buying it, and rushes to London to confront Carla with the bundle of letters. Accusations fly, tempers flare, buttocks gleam in the afternoon sun, and as tension ramps up, we approach the possibility of genuine sexual betrayal. Is it a test of their love, a spice for their relationship, or just an excuse to depict attractive Europeans banging the hell out of each other? I think you know the answer to that one.

Cult Epics cuts another notch in their Tinto Brass bedpost with this release, which improves on the previous UK DVD by restoring the original Italian dialogue track (with removable English subs, of course). Formatted at 1.66:1 (which seems matted a bit too tight) and 16X9 enhanced, the print is in excellent shape, with little noticeable damage - no surprise really, given its relative youth. The film stock does have a certain antiseptic '90s look that kinda screams "Playboy Channel," but still looks more attractive than digital video, which I'd erroneously assumed would be the medium of choice for 2000-era soft porn, even in Europe. I stand erected... uh, corrected. The Dolby Stereo track is surprisingly organic for an Italian production, as I was expecting a lot of canned, post-dubbed dialogue. The dubbing is there, of course, but it's well-placed in the mix, and it's always nice to hear the actors' real voices - even if they're mostly panting and moaning, or saying things like "you're just as humid as Venice!"

The disc is rounded out (so to speak) by a couple of nice extras: first we get an 8-minute behind-the-scenes segment with Brass as he shoots the all-girl bathhouse scene and explains his theory that a woman's ass is a more genuine window into her soul than her face; this idea informs one of the film's more eccentric scenes, in which party guests partake in an "ass-reading" contest. If you're familiar with Brass's films, you will know that he has spent the better part of thirty years doing extensive research into this theory. I have a feeling he's not quite done yet. In fact, I expect he will one day be found dead with his face and/or camera lens pressed deeply into the butt-crack of a voluptuous Neapolitan fishmonger named Gina. In that event, I can say that he will have died doing what he loved most.

That's it, except for a pretty basic still gallery and some amusing Tinto trailers, which are useful if you're planning on doing some big-butt research of your own. I sure as hell did. Just don't be surprised if you find yourself craving a big slice of peach pie.