To close out our March issue, we are going to travel to a part of the world that most of us have not personally seen. This is part of our campaign; you read AoV and we'll show you the world. We'll be in the company of a beautiful woman who also will be away from her usual turf. Our model is Chisato Morishita from Japan, and our vacation destination will be the sun-washed Mediterranean paradise known as Greece. From Athens to Mykonos — just gorgeous, and definitely, there won't be hordes of Idol camera crews in view. Here's a map to help you get your bearings.

One huge absurdly-detailed map. For our American readers, the USA is a couple of yards to the left.

We'll have a look at two videos with Chisato; the titles are Artemis and Aphrodite. Not only will we have two companion videos and two reviews — we'll also have two authors. I'll review Aphrodite, and our guest reviewer for Artemis will be Al the Editor doing his first ever solo review for AoV. I promise that it will be an interesting perspective for you to read, as we are writing our reviews separately and independently, but I'll let Al have the opening review.

OK, confession time. Until last Tuesday I'd seen thousands of still frames but never a real live Idol DVD. Now, faced with the not altogether unpleasant task of reviewing one of them, I have nothing to compare it with. What was I expecting? Kind of a pop video lasting fifteen times as long? Is that good or bad? Another factor: I wasn't familiar with the star of this production, Chisato Morishita. C'est la vie...

The show kicks off with a title sequence in which Chisato appears randomly against a jagged split-screen with curiously irrelevant personal details appearing in the corners. You'll be delighted to learn that our idol has a driver's licence, that her bone place was Aichi and her blood group is A. The montage eases itself out for 3 minutes 20 seconds simply because that is the length of the piece of music which is thudding away, occasionally providing cutting points for the editor.

Chisato herself provides a voiceover — as she does for each scene — but I didn't catch much of the meaning. I could say the same about the interview which follows, at an open-air waterfront café. Her eyes flicker around as if her surroundings are more interesting than the interviewer, but she is bubbly and girly on camera and gives great talking head.

We're in Greece, a change from the Pacific islands which must by now be teeming with jostling video crews. To get away from it all they had to fly halfway round the world, occupying most of the seats in Business Class. Arriving in Athens, unable to afford a fleet of taxis, they had to take a train to get to the port of Piraeus.

Picture the scene as a fragile model of Japanese appearance stepped aboard, followed by the cameraman, the director, the director of photography, two camera assistants, a make-up artist, two production runners, a stills photographer and a harassed location manager. The scene was mute, MOS, so the sound recordist was back in the hotel watching MTV.

"We're making firrum of young rady," announced the producer, "so prease take no notice of us and don't rook at camera." He explained all this in more or less fluent English, which was fine except that the Greek passengers didn't really understand a word he was saying.

So as Chisato threads her way along the car to a seat, there's one middle-aged gent watching her coming towards him and thinking his luck has taken a turn for the better, until the girl takes a seat and stares in theatrical wonderment out of the window. But she gives him a little smile and makes his day. Then she's out of the train and prancing along the station platform for the camera, giggling, legs up to her armpits.

In the background the tireless pianist tinkles doggedly on while Chisato buys a huge bag of cherries — the producer can pay — and eats them as she strolls along the central reservation (the median) of the street.

Pity the cameraman walking backwards in front of her. Is she going to pig that whole kilogram bag of cherries herself? If so, is she going to be fit for work tomorrow morning?

Maybe that's why they agreed to shoot the next scene in the hotel bedroom, with Chisato reclining on the bed, toying with a chunky glass bling-lite necklace and flirting with the camera. The scenes are named after the signs of the Zodiac. We've had Aries, now this is Taurus.

It has an ethereal, floaty treatment, and someone has been shopping because there are earrings to try on and lengths of ribbon for the model to play with. Then she's up again, playing peek-a-boo with the curtains before she sinks down on the bed in a white bikini and the hotel bathrobe, gazing deeply into the lens. It's you she wants.

Gemini sees Chisato outside in the shade, the camera creaming around her on the balcony above the street. Her chunky necklace complements a modesty-preserving green band around the breasts, all covered by a lacy top gathered under the bust.

She's playing with us, coming down the staircase to street level, changing her mind once or twice, showing us her coltish gangly legs before posing against a wall. But this is a brief coda because there is only 37 seconds before the music runs out!

Cancer: we're back to the interview, with some serious questions that she has to think carefully about, but the scene ends with a lewd cackle of laughter from Chisato, before we move on to Leo, where she poses in a little black number on an hotel roof with the historic Athens skyline as a backdrop.

Virgo is Chisato's birth sign, whatever that is supposed to mean, and as the scene opens we know from the gin-clear light that we're on an island. Mykonos is a place of rambling narrow streets and whitewashed houses that reflect the crystal sunlight. Chisato is cool in shocking pink bikini and shady hat, strolling, posing, posing again. The music has become orchestral and moderato. The costume changes creep up on you and you don't always notice them straight away.

Libra, and the frame is fringed with pink: Chisato is hitting the cherries again, back at her favourite café, leaping around like a frisky pony, skipping and frolicking to a laid-back country beat. Scorpio brings a change of mood; an acoustic guitar and Chisato in Mediterranean sky-blue dress, happy-snapping pictures of the ancient ruins, making friends with a little girl and her dad.

Chisato is slinky in translucent blue-green for Sagittarius, slowed-down to match the music of the shimmering strings. Rough stone walls surround her. She is in some kind of doorway leading up some steps to ... what? The exposure is set for the girl in the breeze-kissed shadows, and all other detail is deliberately lost.

In Capricorn, conversely, Chisato at first appears mostly in silhouette and suggested outline. It's another day, another hotel bedroom, and her top is artfully unbuttoned yet reveals nothing as she squirms restlessly on the bed before making a phone call. Who is she calling? Must be room service. More cherries?

The finale, and a complete change of mood and music for Aquarius, with Chisato out window-shopping to the accompaniment of a strong upbeat theme for synths and drums. The camera follows her through the winding streets. She can't leave anything alone: you half expect an exasperated shopkeeper to come out and chase her away.

In the end, it's we who are doing the chasing and Chisato is fleeing through the alleyways, always just out of reach, followed by the cameraman, the director, the director of photography, the stills photographer, two production runners carrying bottles of drinking water, the make-up artist with her little case, a camera assistant with a kilo bag of cherries and half the little kids of Mykonos. And we never see any of them.

I suppose I have to award a score. 4.00 seems pretty good. Chisato looks like fun to be with and it's a nicely varied programme executed with a bit of style. Now, as Mike mentioned in the intro to this review, he's been taking a look at Chisato's companion DVD, Aphrodite. Click the button below and it's all yours. Mike, you have control...