Captain's log, stardate 2321. Interspecies romance is commonplace, ocular and olfactory beings exchange thoughts about incest, and onboard computers make great shrinks. The 21st century is ancient history, yet for some reason, people still use cellphones and say things like “You're breaking up,” and everyone, no matter what solar system they come from, wears Converse sneakers. When the assorted life-forms aboard Captain Joanna Bach's spaceship, The Lucid Dreamer, experience the “Dream Space Effect,” they discover all kinds of new ways to copulate and bodies to copulate with. The infinite alternate realities in River Jackson's unfathomable futuristic sex comedy (a sort of Mork & Mindy meets The L Word) are enough to make a Martian's antennae spin. But while it's more or less possible to keep up with the protracted plot, some of Jackson's whimsy is less easy to make sense of. With its baroque soundtrack; characters named after the likes of Vivaldi, Corelli, and the aforementioned Bach; and lace-ruff-ornamented costumes, Jackson's rocket seems to be shooting for some kind of Enlightenment theme, but somehow misses its target.
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