There have been certain films throughout the course of the 20th century that have defined a generation. In the '40s, Ingrid Bergman and Humphrey Bogart's romance captured the minds of a war-torn society, and in the '70s, Star Wars brought fairy tales to the baby boomers. Films in the '90s, however, largely haven't been as earth-shattering. But that's all about to change, with a fresh new film boasting exciting young talent. Or at least, that's what the maker's of Body Shots would have you believe. It claims, in kinship to movies such as The Breakfast Club that "There are movies that define every decade." Unfortunately, for all it's cheap philosophy, pop psychology and sheer derivativeness from other films, Body Shots will not be reckoned among the influential films of our time, not to mention all time.Taken all in all, Body Shots is a mismatched patchwork in that it can't figure out what it wants to be. It is at times, a shock-fest where there are enough bodily functions abound to delight even the most ardent of David Lynch fans--characters spitting up blood, urinating on closed toilets, puking and a rape all occur in the first fifteen minutes. At others, it attempts to be the defining film concerning love at the end of the millennium (cringe). In the inimitable style of a Calvin Klein commercial, actors speak directly into the camera, offering insightful comments such as "it's just sex" or "sex without love is violence," a maxim which, repeated the fourth time is simply hilarious. From these two juxtaposed themes, we watch tale of one evening in the night-club hopping, heavy drinking 20-somethings, all obviously (or supposedly) gorgeous, all largely indistinguishable from one another.

Through the course of the evening, some end up in romantic liaisons, others not so romantic, and others remain on the sidelines of sexual play. It details how, in their conquest of a hookup, some encounters go right, and how some result in terrible tragedy--the most noticeable being the date rape of Sara (Tara Reid)--but from there simply degenerates into melodrama. Body Shots attempts to impress upon the audience their social commentary of sex in the '90s, and by the end it is a tiring cacophony of discordant themes.

As obviously painful as it must be to watch this banality under any circumstances, the situation is even more painful under the treatment of largely indistinguishable. Of all the actors here, Jerry O'Connell is the one with the greatest star power. The other actors have had roles in various studio fare such as Suicide Kings and American Pie, but all in rather minor roles, and from the calibre of performances given it is easy to see why. The actors all seem to be reading off Teleprompters, and all possess very little range of emotion. Even the director acknowledges this woodenness because he places the image of each actor next to his or her name, just to make sure you don't forget who they are.

The final problem with Body Shots is that it doesn't really offer anything new. Date rape is an important issue, but the discussion of "did he or didn't he" is reduced to a "he said, she said" argument, and nothing more. The filmmakers also seem to derive large segments of the film from other media. Like the aforementioned commercial derivation, numerous scenes and themes are ripped off from other films. The only concrete aspect of Body Shots is that it is very self conscious of the message it wants to portray and in doing so, removes any weight or meaning that could reside in the film (however remote that possibility might be).

This is not to say that Body Shots is devoid of interest. There are some genuinely funny scenes, such as when one character is introduced into a new sexual theater, and it does portray sex in all its awkwardness and difficulty. But in the end, from being beaten over the head with pop psychology, the result is not a revelation, simply a pounding in the ears.