Perfect Timing (René Bonnière, 1986)

In the Robert Lantos-Stephen J. Roth co-production, Perfect Timing, someone is nude in every single scene. And there-in lies the main appeal of this saucy little morsel; a cinematic undertaking, written and directed by René Bonnière and William De Seta, that takes female nakedness to dizzying and spellbinding new heights. In fact, the nudity is so pronounced, that I firmly believe the film can help answer many of life's important questions. I mean, for instance, if you happen to find yourself having doubts about coming out as a straight man, then I highly recommend that you watch it before deciding whether or not you want to take the plunge into the discombobulating world of "out in the open" heterosexuality. Seriously, if you don't feel the slightest bit tingly in the crotch region while watching this tasty lark unfold, you should go about securing your lifelong subscription to "Crochet Today" immediately. In other words, you're a gay man (not that there's anything wrong with that). The women who appear in this film, like the elegant Nancy Cser, are not only alluring, mysterious, bold, and hyper-feminine, they're real. Untouched by the hand of ghoulish plastic surgeons, free from the blotchy images and patterns that are a direct result of being repeatedly poked with ink-stained needles, replete with flowing mounds of impenetrable pubic hair, and possessing an all-consuming appetite for loft-based sexual intercourse, the women of Perfect Timing are a testament to a time when beauty was pure and natural. Sure, fashion, cosmetics, and hairspray still had a role to play, but when stripped down to their bare essentials, the woman of 1986 oozed an authenticity that electrified the souls of those lucky enough to bask in their purifying light.

At any rate, moving on to the film itself, while it appears to take place in New York City (the film opens with a clear shot of its iconic skyline), it's pretty obvious the film is Canadian; the strident speech patterns of the cast and the sleet-covered streets outside the film's main location are dead giveaways. Not that it matters, though, since most of the action happens inside a spacious loft, where two brothers, Harry and Joe (Stephen Markle and Paul Boretski) and their business manager, Charlotte (Michele Scarabelli), run a photography studio.

The bearded, more mature Harry is the brooding artist type, one who's been in a bit of a creative rut of late, while Joe uses his status as a highfalutin photographer simply to get as many women as humanly possibly to rub up against his scrawny frame in an overly sexual manner. On the other hand, Charlotte just wants to prevent the two from being evicted, as the pressure to sell-out and the fear of homelessness do battle with one another on a daily basis.

Realistically capturing what it must have been like to be an artist in New York City during the whole fingerless glove phenomenon of 1984-86, and employing, get this, scripted dialogue, the kind that requires semi-trained actors to enunciate said scripted dialogue with their mouths (a small horizontal opening just below the nose), Perfect Timing resembles an actual film at times.

Utilizing its bevy of brunette actresses like they were a blunt instrument, the film is a visual cornucopia of small-breasted women with dark hair. The first of many slender women to prance naked throughout the loft is the tantalizing Mary Beth Rubens (Prom Night). Playing Judy, a lusciously lipped model/hanger-on who is naked so many times that I literally lost count, Mary Beth, her bob hairstyle and practical panties causing me to fall in love with her in an instant, lights up the screen with her devilish smile and come-hither looks; the lovely Kelly Craig appears periodically as Leslie, a naked woman who finds herself trapped inside a work of art gone awry. This amusing subplot is a constant throughout the film, as Ziggy (Michael Rudder), an easy-going sculptor who lives downstairs, frantically tries to free the understandably annoyed woman from her plaster prison.

The gorgeous Jo-Anne Bates plays Karen Kramer, a naive young woman who gets duped into taking all her clothes off by a perverted yet charming reprobate. You see, she mistakes Joe for the more artistic Harry, and after listening to him make a convincing argument as the why she should pose naked for a portrait photo, Karen disrobes. The chicness Jo's new wave-tinged wardrobe (light blue leggings, matching fingerless gloves and a striped sweater) was a wonder to behold. In fact, her black and blue, multi-layered outfit was so fetching, so stylish that it was not even close to being a shame when she had to take it off.

The insanely hot Papusha Demitro (Breaking All the Rules), the pinnacle of tiny-tittied brunettes of a certain body type who appear in this film, plays Bonnie O'Bendix, a testicle-devouring rock star who enjoys riding Joe's face and asking complete strangers if they "wanna fuck"? Now this may sound a little out of character, but I really took a liking to Papusha's indecent little scamp. Reminding me of Asia Argento with a dash of Wendy O. Williams thrown for good measure, the capriciously named actress (the name "Papusha" makes my pussy moist) really melted my heart as the sex-obsessed hell-spawn in red and black leather, especially during an over-the-top music video shoot, one that is being directed by Joe. Mugging for the camera as a strange assortment of garishly dressed hipsters and female bodybuilders dance around her, Papusha, her tight black stockings accentuating the shape of her mouthwatering legs, sings the line: "I'm looking for a muscle that can stand up!" over and over again as if her life depended on it.

A non-brunette, but don't hold that against her, Michele Scarabelli, though, she could have been rocking the Nice 'n Easy (you never know), is the glue that holds the film together. Best known for playing Lt. Jenna D'Sora on Star Trek: The Next Generation, and Susan Francisco, a spotty-headed newcomer on Alien Nation: The Series, the wide-eyed Miss Scarabelli managed to destroy the operational integrity of my synapses with just one look in my general direction (she has the dreamiest eyes). No fooling around, man, without her beguiling charm and pout-infused pluckiness, this film would have been an empty shell. Okay, a shell that was literally jam-packed with taut, naked flesh, but an empty one, nonetheless.

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