Sunday, July 27, 2014

Female Vampire (Jess Franco, 1973)

Just as she's about to leave her place of residence, deep in the mist-laden forests of Madeira, to search for sperm and vaginal secretion-based sustenance, Countess Irina of Karlstein does a quick wardrobe check. Giving her body a good once over, she can't help but notice that her long black cape isn't going to provide the dark and foreboding confines of her pound-worthy pussy and her ample grope-friendly breasts the amount of coverage they need in today's cunt and titty averse universe. About to go back into the house to fetch a bra and a pair of panties, Irina stops for a second and thinks to herself: With my lady bits and my tits out in the open like they are at the moment, the people I run into won't misinterpret my intentions. In other words, my organic structure is open for business, feel free to savour its delicious contours at your leisure. Sure, some of these so-called "people" might be perplexed at first by the sight of a shapely woman, who is bumpy in all the right places, sauntering around the woods with her twat and boobs exposed. However, those who possess genitals that are fully operational will be tickled pink to see her. Of course, a good portion of them have been conditioned to fear female sex organs since birth, even women, so don't be surprised if some of them are a tad standoffish by the sight of such wanton exhibitionism.


Wearing nothing but a long black cape, a pair of skin-tight knee-high patent leather boots and a black belt, Countess Irina of Karlstein (Lina Romay) slowly emerges from the mist with one thought and one thought only on her mind. And that is, companionship. Only problem is, she's a vampire, a Female Vampire.


Meaning, she can't help but kill those she copulates with. Whether they be men or whether they be women, she needs to feed on their orgasm in order to survive. Writhing on her bed helps abate her insatiable hunger for fluids of a sexual nature, but sooner or later she must plunge her face into the crotch of a total stranger to reap the moist rewards.


When Lina Romay emerges from the mist in the opening scene, did anyone else mistake her dark patch of pubic hair for a pair of black panties? For a minute there I totally thought she was wearing panties. But then it dawned me: Lina Romay + Panties? That is one equation that does not add the fuck up. Nonetheless, I consider pubic hair to be nature's panties, so, in away, she was wearing panties, just not the type you're accustomed to. Not to sound like a nudist, but societies obsession with covering things (i.e. vaginas) that already come with their own built-in cover is misguided and sad. It's my dream to launch a women's clothing line that features ensembles that cover everything except the vagina.


Oh, and before you start accusing me of being some sort of vagina-obsessed reprobate, please keep in mind that I just watched a ninety minute movie that has Lina Romay's unclad lady box being thrust in my face in almost every scene.


Did I mention the scene where Lina Romay's Countess Irina of Karlstein slowly emerges from the mist? I did, eh? How 'bout the skin-tight knee-high patent leather boots? You don't say. Hmm. I know what I didn't mention, the music by Daniel White, specifically the theme from Female Vampire. It's so freaking haunting. And in typical Jess Franco fashion, the theme becomes its own character after awhile, as variations of it are repeated throughout the film.


After Jess's camera has finished devouring Lina's supple frame, she walks up to a man who tending some sort of bird farm and... What's that? You say it's called a "menagerie." Whatever, this guy gets a blow job from Countess Irina against a bird fence. What's that? You say it's called "chicken wire." Screw you, man.


As Irina consumes his orgasm, the man let's out a loud scream. In fact, it's so loud, that Baron Von Rathony (Jack Taylor) hears it miles away.


Even though we never see her speak, Irina does occasionally provide some back story about her unique plight via narration (mwah, being a vampire is not all it's cracked up to be, etc.). And when these instances occur, the only thing we see onscreen is the vampire bat hood ornament flapping away on the hood of her limousine.


Agreeing to give an interview with a reporter named Anna (Anna Watican), we learn even more about Countess Irina (she answers her questions by nodding her head for yes and shaking it for no). She's apparently the last of her kind and lives alone in the mountains.


Feeling somewhat peckish, Irina instructs her manservant (Luis Barboo) to bring the hotel's masseur (Raymond Hardy) to her room. Lying on her bed in a manner that accentuates her pussy, Irina uses her clitoris to entice the masseur to come to her. As she expected, the masseur agrees to have sex with her. Little does he know, however, the orgasm he experiences on this day will be his last. Though, I gotta say, if you gotta go, what better way to do so than to have an attractive female vampire eat your orgasm.


There's supposedly a police investigation underway (the bodies are starting pile up at the Madeira morgue), but they have no clue what's going on. The medical examiner, Dr. Roberts (Jess Franco), tries tell the inspector in charge of the case that a vampire with a taste for spunk-based spillage is the culprit, but he dismisses his findings as pure poppycock.


What Jack Taylor's character is up to still unclear, but he's obviously drawn to Countess Irina. Until the actual scene where he meets Irina face-to-face, Jack spends most of the movie looking up at the sky (he's keeping an eye out for Irina, as she tends to fly by every now and then).


The blind Dr. Orloff (Jean-Pierre Bouyxou), like Dr. Roberts, is well aware of what's going on the island. His best scene is when he grabs a handful of Monica Swinn's pussy (in the interest of science, of course). That's right, you're not seeing things. The gorgeous Monica Swinn is in this movie. Out of all the actresses who have appeared in Jess Franco movies over the years, Monica Swinn (a.k.a. Monika Swuine) is definitely in the top five in terms of sex appeal. And she does not disappoint in that regard in Female Vampire.


Playing... what does it say here, "Princess de Rochefort"? I don't remember hearing her called that name once during the movie. At any rate, playing Princess de Rochefort, Monica is playing chess with her servant (Alice Arno), when Countess Irina walks in and helps her defeat the servant.


Escorting Irina to her private sadomasochism dungeon, Princess de Rochefort instructs her servant to remove Irina's clothing. If you look closely, you can see that Lina Romay is wearing black hold up stockings. The fact I had to "look closely" was very frustrating, as black hold up stockings in Jess Franco movies should always be easy to see.


After being whipped by... Oh, wait. I love it when Monica Swinn says, "Her skin is so silky smooth... I can't bear to touch it," while feeling up Lina against the dungeon wall. After being whipped by Alice Arno for a couple of minutes, Irina manages to turn the tables on Princess de Rochefort, who finds herself the one being whipped (she uses her vampire mind control powers on Alice Arno).


Crashing to the floor as the result of a punch to the gut, Monica Swinn is swarmed by Alice Arno and Lina Romay, who proceed to grope and lick her (we still don't get a proper shot of Lina's hold up stockings). On the other hand, as they're doing this, we get some great shots of Monica's stems in black fishnet stockings and her extremely hairy pussy (I dug the way her panties had trouble containing the wild nature of her unruly pubic hair).


I would say that Female Vampire is the perfect starting off point for people who are thinking about using/getting into the cinema of Jess Franco, as it contains all the right ingredients. Well, at least it contains all the ingredients I look for in a Jess Franco movie. Lesbianism, the occult, stockings, an exotic location, sadomasochism, Monica Swinn, a haunting score, lot's of close up shots of vaginas, knee-high boots, and an eerie atmosphere.


Thursday, July 24, 2014

My Brother's Wife (Doris Wishman, 1966)

It just dawned on me: What am I going to do when I eventually run out of Doris Wishman movies to watch? Ahhh, just the mere thought of watching a film that isn't directed by Doris Wishman is enough to make my skin crawl. Now, some of you might be thinking that I'm currently suffering from a severe case of Stockholm Syndrome, or, in this case, a severe case of Doris Wishman Syndrome. But I can assure you that I'm not. Seriously, though, the prospect of watching a film that isn't obsessed with showing close ups of feet, doesn't linger on inanimate objects for no discernible reason, and has zero frazzled women on the brink of insanity is a frightening thought indeed. Realizing this, I approached My Brother's Wife with a new-found appreciation for Doris Wishman as an artist. Every time we would get a close up of some feet, I would nod approvingly. The same goes for the shots of inanimate objects (ashtrays, table settings, lamps, garbage pails, etc.) and, of course, the scenes where the characters not speaking dialogue would appear onscreen while those speaking dialogue would appear off-screen. You could view this film as a Doris Wishman best of album. Only problem being, the story isn't all that compelling. Sure, all the elements are pretty much in place, but something is missing.


The first thing that struck me was just that, no one gets struck in this film. I don't even think a woman gets slapped once during its spry running time. Not that I want to see women slapped around. It's just that this film is supposed to be a "roughie." I know what you're thinking, the film opens with two guys punching and kicking each other in a pool hall for an extended period of time. Yeah, but, if I wanted to watch two guys beating up one another, I'd watch hockey.


Judging by the way these two guys are going at it, the woman their fighting over must be quite something. What's that? How do I know their fighting over a woman? What else could be? It's true, they could be fighting over a lot of things. But let's get real, it's probably a woman.


Proving that she's still got some storytelling tricks up her sleeve, Doris Wishman shows the film's final scene at the beginning. At first I was like: I don't get it. Why show the end of the movie right off the bat? Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. This was all one big tease to get us interested in knowing how these two men managed to find themselves rolling around with one another in the middle of the afternoon on a dingy pool hall floor. And I have to admit, I was somewhat curious to find out how these two men ended up where they did.


Just as my curiosity was about to go into overdrive, the reason they were fighting finally appears onscreen. Tilting her head inquisitively at the man standing in her apartment doorway, Mary (June Roberts) invites him in when Frankie (Sam Stewart) identifies himself as her husband's brother. That's right, that means to Frankie, Mary is his brother's wife.


Instead of filming Mary and Frankie sitting on the couch in a normal manner, Doris Wishman insists on keeping her camera trained on their feet for the duration of the scene. According to my calculations, we get three separate cutaways to their feet as they talked (the third cutaway lasts twice as long the two previous foot-based cutaways). And just for good measure, we get a shot of Mary's heels as she walks to the kitchen. If that good measure wasn't enough for you, we get another shot of Mary's feet as she fixes her hair in the blender. What I mean is, she uses the reflective surface on the base of her blender to calculate the structural integrity of the hair follicles that sit atop of pretty little head.


When her husband, his brother, Bob (Bob Oran), comes homes, we're all thinking the same thing: How did a major hottie like Mary end up with a middle-aged slob like Bob? Wait a second, "major hottie" doesn't do Mary justice. She's a luminous flower, one that is too beautiful to be defiled by the likes of Bob. And that's just the thing, he doesn't defile her. Oh, sure, he might have defiled in the early days of their marriage, but it's been quite some time since he's defiled anything.


You know what that means, right? Congratulations, Frankie. Your cock is in for a treat. Picking the perfect time to visit his older brother, it would seem that Frankie has stumbled upon not a loveless marriage, but definitely a sexless one.


Oh, and before you start chewing out Bob and his lackluster genitals for not wanting to smear his face all over his wife's stocking-encased legs–and believe me, they're always stocking-encased–let's try to understand his point of view, shall we? Maybe he can't keep up with her, if you know what I mean.


Yes, I realize you don't need an erection to smear one's face all over stocking-encased legs. But he is at least twenty-five years older than her. So, maybe it's a stamina thing. Hell, maybe he just doesn't like sex.


After dinner, Bob tells Frankie that his old flame, Zena (Darlene Bennett) is still town. When Bob mentions Zena's name, Frankie's eyes light up. According to Frankie, "Zena's got everything, and a little bit more."


Hosting a party for her sleazy friends, we meet the well put together Zena as she's overseeing the orgy that is currently taking place in her living room. In-between all the shots of feet in heels, feet in stockings and, my personal favourite, feet in stockings and heels, Frankie and Zena get reacquainted with one another.


Oh, would you look at that, someone does get slapped in the face in this movie. After a close up of Mary's feet standing in the kitchen, Frankie makes a play for her. Put off  by Frankie's clumsy attempt to grope her, Mary expresses her displeasure by slapping him across the face.


Giving her husband one last chance to give her the ripe dicking she deserves, Mary slowly undresses in front of Bob.


Removing her white bra first, Mary takes off her tan stockings, then her black garter belt. As she stood there, admiring the shape of her body in the mirror, I couldn't help but notice that Mary is the first character I've seen so far in a Doris Wishman movie to not wear black undergarments. Sure, her garter belt was as a black as the night sky, but her bra and panties were definitely white. I wonder if that was done on purpose?


Anyway, after getting nowhere with Bob, Mary heads straight into the arms of Frankie, who literally sweeps her off her feet. Carrying her into his bedroom, Frankie goes to work on Mary's lingerie. Work that lingerie, Frankie. Work it!


Instead of showing Mary's throbbing pussy reacting positively to Frankie's tender caresses, Doris Wishman substitutes it for Mary's throbbing belly button. The throbbing belly button motif returns in the next scene, when we get a shot of Mary's belly button throbbing underneath the black mesh midriff section of her dress while getting ice for the stiff drink she's making for Frankie.


Even though I can't really comment on June Robert's performance, as we never really get to see her utter any lines of dialogue onscreen. The sight of her getting ice from the freezer is the epitome of sexy.


As you might expect, Frankie is torn between Mary, the bored housewife, and Zena, the wild party girl. Oh, and if you're thinking that Frankie is worried that he'll hurt his brother's feelings. Think again. Frankie doesn't give a fuck.


Up to his chin in brunette pussy, Frankie has got two leggy goddesses gunning for his cock. In other words, things couldn't be better. Or are they?


A wild card named Della (Dawn Bennett from Bad Girls Go to Hell) shows up to put crink in Zena's plans. A staunch lesbian in a leather jacket, one who wouldn't look out of place in the front row at a Bikini Kill concert, Della puts the moves on Zena. This scene is awkward because I think Darlene and Dawn are sisters. But then again, they barely touch one another. Incest averted.


Featuring too many scenes that have Frankie demanding that Mary get 2000 dollars out of Mary and Bob's joint checking account and one's that have Zena demanding that Frankie get 2000 dollars, "No money, no Zena," she tells him, the film, much like this review, starts to overstay its welcome after awhile. That being said, from an aesthetic point of view, you're not going to find a more perfect movie. Close up shots of feet, stockings, inanimate objects, heavy eye-makeup and off-screen dialogue, this film's got everything and a little bit more.


Wednesday, July 23, 2014

The Dallas Connection (Christian Drew Sidaris, 1994)

Feeling charitable, writer/director/hapless fake tittie enthusiast, Andy Sidaris, after the debacle that was Enemy Gold, has elected to give his son, Christian Drew Sidaris, a second stab at writing and directing his own movie. And the result is pretty much the same old crap. But this time, there's a unique twist. You see, in The Dallas Connection... Hold on, who am I kidding? There's no unique twist. I was right the first time around, this is pretty much the same old crap. If that's the case, why the hell I'm watching this? I mean, I'm not contractually obligated or anything like that, so, what gives, man? Oh, I know why. I'm glutton for punishment and obviously a bit of a closet masochist. Either way, there's a ton of stuff to make fun of in this film. And not only that, the film features the Sidaris debut of Wendy Hamilton, a tall, shapely brunette with an erection amassing ass. Unfortunately, this film is also marks the Sidaris debut of Julie K. Smith, one of the most untalented women to ever to appear in an Andy Sidaris production. Hey, I know, that's a harsh thing to say, but some people need to be told they can't act. It's clear, however, that Andy Sidaris never got around to telling Julie K. Smith that she's a talentless hosebeast, as he, for some bizarre reason, decided to cast her in another two movies. That's right, I have to sit through two more movies with  this charisma-challenged dolt. Yeah, yeah, I technically don't have to do anything. But I might as well finish what I started.


It should be noted that Wendy Hamilton can't act, either. It's just that she looks somewhat natural compared to cosmetic freak show that is Julie K. Smith, and Samantha Phillips (also making her Sidaris debut), whose tits look like non-jiggling chunks of flesh-based polyurethane. My point being, Wendy stood out for me in terms of  being less awful.


Oh, and when I say, "can't act," I'm using my own personal criteria to assess their acting ability. In other words, I'm not judging them from some highfalutin, Stanislavski angle. All you have to do to impress me as an actor is say your lines in a semi-coherent manner, or, at the very least, talk in an exaggerated fashion, one that is on the cusp of being entertaining. However, I'm sad to report, Julie K. Smith, Wendy Hamilton and Samantha Phillips do not fit into either of these categories. They're simply terrible and shouldn't have made it past the audition stage.


Well, I would have still cast Wendy Hamilton. But in a non-speaking role. I mean, look her! Her bum is sublime. To deny the world the sight of Wendy's killer booty whilst ensnared in a thong/leotard (a thongtard?) or in a thong that is attached to some kind of lime green wetsuit would be a crime.


Let me quickly look over my notes regarding this film... Oh, man. It says here the film opens in Paris, France. Yes, the shots of famous Parisian landmarks were definitely authentic, but there's no way I'm buying that the bedroom where Julie Strain's Black Widow is putting a studded leather collar around the neck of a hunky French scientist is anywhere near France. I mean, check out the light coming through the window, it's so freaking bright. No, that light is way too harsh to be French. Things only get worse when we're shown the outside of the house Julie Strain and the French scientist guy are having sex in, as the house practically oozes suburban Dallas.


You think that's bad, wait until we're whisked off to South Africa and Hong Kong.


Wearing purple fishnet stockings, Black Widow has rough sex with the French scientist, then shoots him between the eyes. Picked up by Platter Puss (Cassidy Phillips), Black Widow is driven to an airplane hangar (totally in France), walks across said hangar (still totally wearing purple fishnet stockings), hops aboard a jet that is being flown by Fu (Gerald Okamura), and heads to Dallas, Big D, D-Town; but not before refueling in Newfoundland. Woo-hoo! Canada finally gets a shout out in an Andy Sidaris production.


After some stock footage, no doubt lifted from Wild Kingdom, we see Cobra (Julie K. Smith) blow up a South African scientist using a bomb attached to a remote control car. Jeez, the Sidaris's and their obsession with vapid chicks with fake tits and remote control cars and boats is starting to sap my strength.


The action soon turns to Hong Kong (complete with aerial stock footage of Victoria Harbour) where Scorpion (Wendy Hamilton) blows up a Chinese scientist on a golf course. This scene is great because it features lots of shots of Wendy Hamilton bending over in a short skirt.


As you might have guessed, Black Widow, Cobra and Scorpion are assassins. But why are they targeting scientists? That's a good question. Oh, wait, here comes Nicholas Lang (Roland Marcus), the leader of I/WAR (International World Arms Removal), I'm sure he'll explain everything.


Paired with an I/WAR agent named Samantha Maxx (Samantha Phillips), Nicholas explains the reason why these particular scientists were targeted while flying from Washington to Dallas. (How come everyone is flying to Dallas?) Excellent question. Wait, no it's not. The film is called "The Dallas Connection," not "The Penetanguishene Connection" for a reason.


Anyway, I can see why Roland Marcus was given the task of explaining the film's plot, as he's the only actor in the cast who can string more than two sentences together without pulling a brain muscle. I'm not implying he's a great actor or anything like that. But his lengthy, jargon-heavy monologue detailing the film's plot gets the job done.


Oh, sure, Samantha Maxx (her crossed legs sheathed in black stockings) chimes in every once in a while during Nicholas's monologue. But I didn't buy for a second that she knew what she was talking about. And, no, not because she's a woman, but because she's a clueless twit.


When Black Widow, with Platter Puss and Fu in tow, arrives in Dallas, she's heads straight for–you guessed it–Cowboys Club and Restaurant. And, yay! Would you look at that, Kym Malin is still the club's choreographer/night hostess.


Like me, Kym is watching Cobra and Scorpion practice their stripper routines while taking notes. Hmm, I wonder if Kym's notes are the same as mine? 


My notes basically say: Wendy Hamilton's bum is sexy. Julie K. Smith sucks.


A fourth scientist, an Argentine named Antonio Morales (Rodrigo Obregón) is in Dallas, and obviously needs protecting.


Anyone know why the flag of Zambia is flying outside a building in Dallas, Texas? Could it be the headquarters of The Zambia Association of Dallas Fort-Worth (ZADFW)? Call me, oh, let's say, someone who is not of sound mind, but the sudden appearance of the Zambian flag is so far the only thing that's remotely intriguing about The Dallas Connection.


After Black Widow, Platter Puss and Fu pay a visit to the I/WAR headquarters, the dead bodies they leave in their wake are taken care of by Coroner #1 (Larry Hicks) and Coroner #2 (Ken Meeks). Now, I'm not sure which is which, but one of these guys utters the best lines in the entire movie.


Yeah, yeah, I know, Julie Strain's "After you finish with those guys, rape these bitches and kill 'em... I know I would," is pretty great and all, but the actor playing the coroner who says, "Billy Joe, you better bring more tape... this boy is huge," while marking the outline of one of the dead bodies is hilarious. His delivery, in terms of comic timing, was spot-on. Of course, as is the case with most of the actors who display anything close to resembling talent in these films, he's never seen or heard from again. Boo!


Instead, we're saddled with a bunch of no-talent ass-clowns. Like, Bruce Penhall, who, at one point, says, "look lady," to Kym Malin's Cowboys choreographer/night hostess. Can you believe that? The nerve of this guy. I wanted to eat his taint for breakfast and not leave a tip after he said that.


And things only get worse, as Bruce Penhall says, "You should have read your fortune cookie," after blowing up Gerald Okamura with his grenade launcher. When I heard him say that, I nearly keeled over. (Did you nearly keel over as a result of being outraged? Or did you nearly keel over as a result of laughing too hard?) Let's just say I was genuinely shocked by the scene's casual racism. Whether I laughed or not... I'll never tell.


This film would turn out to be the last of this type to be written and directed by Christian Drew Sidaris, as his father Andy gets back in the director's chair for the next two adventures (yay?). And, yep, that's right, there are only two left (yay!).