Category Archives: Sex

Schoolgirls in Chains (1973)

schoolgirlschainsNot much occurs in the pedestrian and paltry Schoolgirls in Chains beyond what the title promises, and even that is a misnomer. I get it, though: Sexploitation is sexploitation, which requires salable sizzle, and “schoolgirl” tickles a particular — and particularly popular — fetish. Like Troma’s infamous Mother’s Day seven years later, this feature from The Love Butcher director Don Jones centers on two adult brothers who live a screwed-up existence with their screwy mother in a home just middle-of-nowhere enough to be ideal for their peculiar method of entertaining members of the opposite sex.

Frank (Gary Kent, Jones’ The Forest) is the brains of the Barrows boys; the mentally challenged John (John Parker, The Mighty Gorga), the brawn. Through automotive mishaps and what have you, the brothers nab the nubile, take them home and chain ’em up in the cellar with the others. On occasion, John likes to play doctor with them, whereas Frank has little patience for games — he just out-and-out rapes. Jones’ choice to score this grimy scene with romantic sax music is all the more troubling.

schoolgirlschains1Equally as troubling is the film’s highlight: a flashback in which Mother (Greta Gaylord) ruins Frank’s chances at marriage by telling his fiancée that while he used to wet the bed, he now just gets her wet in bed. Translation: incest. We can’t place all the blame on Mrs. Barrows, however, because in the same scene, when she asks her son for a massage to relieve the pain she’s having, he complies; the “pain” is in her breasts. I know women like to see how their husband-to-be treats his mama, but this? It’s a red flag that sews, raises and waves itself.

Yep, kids, SiC (!) is one of “those” kinds of movies: not pornography, but misguided eroticism. Hey, it takes all kinds to make the world go ’round. It takes a village! —Ed Donovan

Get it at Amazon.

The Roommates (1973)

roommatesWarning: Arthur Marks’ The Roommates may cause whiplash. For its first 39 minutes, it plays like one fun-loving, fuck-me pump of a sexploitation flick. Then, at minute 40, one of its many lovely ladies takes more than 100 stab wounds to the torso, and not by choice.

No worries, though! Soon, the dial is cranked right back to happy-go-lucky, borrowing a pattern straight from that archaic TV nugget of the sock-it-to-me ’60s, Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In: minimal setup, corny joke, onto the next one. Mind you, this episodic structure actually proves to be a plus.

Delivered the same year he moved into the lucrative blaxploitation game with the Quentin Tarantino-beloved Detroit 9000, Marks’ film makes much use of its finest special effect: the bevy of beauties. As the titular Roommates, Pat Woodell (The Big Doll House), Roberta Collins (Death Race 2000), Marki Bey (Sugar Hill) and Laurie Rose (The Abductors) romp in the sand, discuss women’s lib, take showers and, eventually, summer at Lake Arrowhead.

roommates1They’re not vacationing as a foursome, however, which further lends the film a soapy layer similar to the Valley of the Dolls it name-drops. Joining Woodell’s Heather for the trip is her young, feisty cousin (The Stewardesses’ Christina Hart), who is more than happy to make Oedipal overtures after a conquest of Heather’s tells her post-coitally, “Oh, Heather, it’s just like old times, isn’t it? You’re as good as you were when you were 16!” Meanwhile, Rose’s Brea assumes nursing duties at a kids’ camp, where she and her tight Ts and short shorts garner a great deal of hormonal attention from overly (but justifiably) horny boys: “Boy, is she built like a brick shithouse! Boy, would I like to make it with her!” Get in line, brother …

In fact, I’d like to serially date the hell out of this movie. It’s too much of a carefree blast to not swing right along to its delectable rhythms and life-affirming scenery. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Zero in and Scream (1970)

zeroinIn the department of sexual relations, Mike (Michael Stearns, Battle for the Planet of the Apes) has quite a hang-up: “When a man climbs on top of a woman, she becomes ugly.” (Oh, Mike, you’re doing it all wrong.) He takes out his frustration the only way he knows: through the crosshairs of a high-powered rifle!

Zero in and Scream follows Mike as he shoots his way through the Hollywood hills. His targets? Couples in the middle of, um, coupling. This has all the makings of a twisted little thriller, but director Lee Frost (The Thing with Two Heads) is really only interested in the sex, so au revoir, thrills.

zeroin1Mike spends a great deal of time soaking in the all-nude dancing at a fleabag bar named The Classic Cat, where he takes a shine to the stripper Susan (Donna Young, one of Al Adamson’s Naughty Stewardesses). Susan invites him to a party at her groovy pad, where Mike watches all the other guests have all kinds of foreplay and intercourse in the (hopefully heavily chlorinated) pool. He gets so hot and bothered as a mere spectator that he drives up the hill in order to put the shindig to an end … with a bullet! (Party foul!)

But Lordy, it seems to take forever for anything of interest to happen in the hour-long Zero — namely, Mike zeroing in. Watching the softcore shenanigans is so dull, you’ll feel Mike’s pain; you’ll want him to pull the trigger well before one of the pool humpers does. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

House on Bare Mountain (1962)

baremtnVery little story exists in House on Bare Mountain. Very little needs to; it’s not meant for telling a story. The debut of The Defilers director Lee Frost, the flick is a nudie cutie, period.

The House in question is the site of Granny Good’s School for Good Girls, with Granny Good being played by Frost’s regular producer, Love Camp 7 commandant Bob Cresse, in drag. While ostensibly “about” a mysterious new enrollee and/or the wolfman in the basement, it’s really about the student body and its bodies, almost always nude from the waist up, even while reading the dictionary front to back. The ladies exercise, then draw, then shower. A masked ball is held in mixed company, at which Dracula and Frankenstein spike the punch, but it’s not until Granny douses it with her illegal home-brewed hooch that tops are doffed. The end.

baremtn1Like so many entries in the pioneering genre, Bare Mountain is all “look, but don’t touch.” One can sense the humor at work without succumbing to actual laughs; pay particular attention to the opening titles, crediting “Hoover Vacuum” for hairstyles and “Everybody!” for body makeup. Speaking of, Frost heats up the screen as best as censors would allow, making for an hour-long movie as saturated in skin as it is in rather appealing vibrant colors. —Ed Donovan

Get it at Amazon.

Kiss Me Quick! (1964)

kissmequickDeep in the Buttless Galaxy, on the unisex planet of Droopita, lives Sterilox (Frank A. Coe, The Notorious Daughter of Fanny Hill). The pudgy, 612-year-old dimwit with a spaghetti colander atop his head is given a peach of an assignment: Teleport to Earth to find the “perfect specimen” of woman to perpetuate a slave class, because, according to his leader, “these women make ideal servants if you train them properly.”

Apparently, the ones in Kiss Me Quick! have been trained to stay silent, except to utter the title of this monster-themed nudie cutie, the first flick for legendary exploitation producer Harry Novak, whose prodigious output represents a huge chunk of the Something Weird Video catalog. Residing in the castle of the Dr. Strangelove-esque mad scientist Dr. Breedlove (Max Gardens, My Tale Is Hot) and his Sex Machine, the abducted ladies exercise within Catacombs 69, but mostly they just strip individually for the camera and then undulate in a go-go style that does not-always-flattering things to their bosoms.

kissmequick1During all the undressing and the bouncing, the childlike Sterilox is supposed to be selecting a busty babe to bag (yet in the end, he chooses a vending machine). Taking turns, the girls unpeel the same kind of strapless black bra, garters and partially peekaboo panties, which makes me think Novak purchased only one set of undies and had director Peter Perry Jr. (Mondo Mod) pass it from starlet to starlet. Incidentally, their underdeveloped (in everything but cup size) characters have names like Boobra, Hotty Totty and Gina Catchafanni.

Why, yes, puns are as prevalent as bare breasts! A female mummy under Breedlove’s employ is named Selfish, says the doc, “because she’s all wrapped up in herself!” Ba-dum-bum. Dracula also stops by for the length of a groaner, as does a transgender Frankenstein’s monster (also Coe). The final scene has Breedlove — who looks like a mix of Claude Rains’ Invisible Man and a purchaser of My First Halloween Makeup Kit from TG&Y — judging the quality of the newly arrived nudes by slapping stickers on them, e.g. “CHOICE,” “PRIME,” “KOSHER” and, finally, affixed to one body’s butt crack, “THE END.”

Is Kiss Me Quick! loaded with misogyny or just naiveté? As a product of its time — one in which onscreen nudity still was from-the-dryer fresh — the latter could be argued. Today, the nudie-cutie genre is more likely to bore than titillate, to register as celebratory vs. predatory. This one is among the most enjoyable; even with its castle wall-to-wall toplessness, it exudes an all-American innocence, not to mention a generous spritz of Aqua Net. —Ed Donovan

Get it at Amazon.