Espuma De Mar – Lucia Romano, Mike Kowalski

Those seeking a storyline or even the most rudimentary narrative won’t find either in Andrej Lupin’s “Espuma De Mar,” but viewers who are comfortable outside the bounds of conventional storytelling will enjoy a rich, atmospheric, poetic, and stirringly beautiful erotic cinema experience. Throughout its duration “Espuma De Mar” cuts between two settings: the rugged, rocky cliffs above the crashing waves of a restless sea, and the silence and serenity of a plush sofa in a softly lit living room. In the former location a nude Lucia Romano, held aloft in Mike Kowalski’s arms, strikes a wide variety of graceful, almost balletic, poses as the salt breeze plays in her long hair, and in the latter the couple make sweet, tender, and passionate love. The symphonic soundtrack ebbs and flows like the ocean, rushing in for emphasis, and then fading back to let the natural sounds of sex fill the ear and the imagination. We know nothing of these lovers, they exchange not a single word, but as we watch we learn everything necessary. Whether on the cliff or on the couch, Rosaline is graceful, physical, emotive, and Nick is solid, silent, strong, and focused. Water rushes gently across the pebbly strand, a loving kiss is exchanged. The tide begins to gradually rise, the couple enter an extended sixty-nine. Waves rise and fall with wind-whipped vigor, Rosaline straddles Nick and savors the sensation of rigid cock in silky, steamy pussy. The tide is high, the air filled with mist, the sea white with foam, as orgasm rushes through Rosa’s body and Wolanski pumps ever harder until Rosaline liberates his surging load with slick-gripped strokes. Both powerful and poetic, “Espuma De Mar” combines naturalism with impressionism to capture a moving erotic interlude.