When in Rome...

"Volare" will never sound the same to me.

The 1958 hit tune—officially titled “Nel Blu Dipinto Di Blu”—crops up during a rip-snorting love scene in “Room in Rome” and it’s certainly a vivid variation on a theme.

The film tells the story of two people who come together for a night of love, passion and, quite possibly, a new life together.

It also features some of the most seriously smoking girl-on-girl hook-ups it’s ever been my perverted pleasure to witness. This thing makes “Bound” look like “Toy Story.”

I know, I know. I’m a pig, a degenerate, a lowlife sexist, chauvinist loser who should be mortally ashamed of himself. And, believe me, I am.

Shame was a key ingredient of my Catholic upbringing, after all, along with bad nerves, low self-esteem and an irrational fear of penguins.

But I can’t help myself. These love scenes are incredible.

What? You say you want some plot details? All right, if you insist.

Alba and Natasha meet in a bar in Rome, go back to Alba’s hotel room and proceed to get as naked as a pair of plucked chickens. How’s that for plot details?

I really can’t review this thing because, to be honest, I was counting the seconds until the ladies got back to business. I liked some non-naked moments, I suppose, and I think I remember enjoying the editing of a few scenes, but it’s all a bit of a haze.

I was also feeling a bit claustrophobic after a while, as the movie really accentuates the “Room” part of the title, as opposed to the “Rome.”

“Do you want me to take my clothes off?” Natasha asks Alba early on in the film.

“Yes, goddamnit!” I shouted at my TV. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

Checking In

And these two lovely women deliver the goods. This is a room with one hell of a view. The “Volare” scene alone is worth your time, as Natasha and Alba sing in the shower and then really make some beautiful music together.

I tell you, if I had been wearing a toupee it would have flown off my head and burst into flames. I would loved to have been a part of this film’s crew, but the excessive drooling might have been a problem.

Women tell me they have no interest in guy-on-guy action, so I have to wonder what exactly is up with the male of the species--besides that, of course. Are we really the sex-obsessed Cro-Magnon clowns that women say we are? How ghastly!

Also, I have gay friends and I’m genuinely concerned that I might be offending them by giving voice to my lascivious longings. But being Catholic, I also have to confess my sins, so there you are.

Now in my own defense, I don’t watch dirty movies, I’ve never been in a strip club and that peep show thing was an accident, I don’t give a rat’s ass what anybody says.

But if I’m sitting in my living room and a racy movie like this happens to beam into my TV, well that’s an act of God. And the fact that I had to set up the recording ahead of time is completely immaterial.

I could claim that I watched the movie only because I was trapped in my apartment by the nefarious Nor’Easter Nemo and didn’t have anything else to watch.

But to be borrow a phrase from Ebenezer Scrooge, I would’ve watched this movie if it “was in the middle of a heat wave on August bank holiday.”

I erased “Room in Rome” the second it ended and I was severely tempted to throw the DVR out the window, but I knew I would’ve jumped right out after it.

Maybe I should just accept the fact that I’m just human with all the flaws and faults that come with the job. I’m sure even the most cultured connoisseur likes to sneak in the occasional Big Mac.

I’ll just have to live with myself and my deviant desires. But there is one thing of which you can be certain.

I really am ashamed of myself.