But I have to face the facts. We were all there for Amanda Peet. We were there poised at the prospect of seeing Ms. Peet naked. And we all expressed this silly rapture in various terms. Sometimes resorting to a base intellectualizing of our lust for the attractive actress.
Film critics are a curious bunch.
But in the end, we're all clandestine perverts. I have no idea if this silly libidinous desire will find its way into my colleagues' reviews. But if I am to be honest in explaining why I attended a screening for Whipped , I will have to admit that I arrived at the screening with the hope that I would see Ms. Peet's presence attractively preserved by the filmmakers. And if that is the reason why anyone would patronize writer-director Peter M. Cohen's debut outing, then I'll be perfectly frank. Aside from a brief sequence in a bathroom in which Peet's sinuous back can be seen, the attractive actress cannot be seen nude.