Gritty realism isn't an attribute one usually associates with the glamourous world of erotic cinema. Sunny climes, jizz-stained patio furniture, and recently laundered pink thongs are pretty standard stuff when it comes to depicting sex on screen. Yeah, that's true. But what about the dreary ambiance of Detroit, Michigan? Is it possible to make an alluring film set in the Motor City? That's the question the makers of She's So Fine! dare to ask. Things don't start off too promising, as we are given a quick geography montage depicting different Detroit landmarks languishing on a bleakly overcast day. Don't get me wrong, I love the city; after all, it's where Juan Atkins lives. I just don't think that inflamed genitalia and Joe Louis Arena are compatible with one another. On the other hand, I kind of admired what director Henri Pachard (Babylon Pink) was going for with his unpolished opening. It may not be attractive on an aesthetic level, but it does ooze authenticity. Which is something a film like this doesn't normally ooze. After the film does one of the more competent jobs of establishing where the majority of action takes place, we find ourselves in the bedroom of Roger (Jerry Butler) and Susan (Sharon Kane), a relatively young couple living in the suburbs. Fooling around with his video camera, Roger starts to shoot himself while he masturbates next to a sleeping Susan. Woken by his excessive stroking, she is shocked by the sight of a playing with himself–the fact that Susan had never seen a man jerk off before should have alerted Roger–you know, in terms of the validity of her heterosexuality. Anyway, Susan eventually puts Roger's junk in her mouth. Well, it's in there periodically (sometimes it's in, sometimes it's out).
A lengthy stretch of dialogue follows, as Susan goes next-door to bring her friend Angela (Taija Rae) a wedding dress and chats with Angela's mother, Mrs. M (Gloria Leonard), in the kitchen. Apparently, Angela is getting married today, but isn't quite sure if the groom is gonna show up (she hasn't heard from him in quite sometime). The wedding was supposed to be a modest affair: one priest, two witnesses. But the groom's strange music buddies start showing up. Plus, an old school chum named Ron (Joey Silvera) and the aforementioned Roger end up coming over as well.
Hard as it may seem, but no one has ejaculated semen yet. However, this all changes when Ron, a real half-wit, seduces (I think he says "you have changeless tits") the bride-to-be. While not every scene shares its naturalistic temperament, the straightforward intercourse Joey and Taija engage in was quite jarring in its simplicity. I mean, I kept expecting something gross or off-putting transpire, and when it didn't, I was genuinely shocked. The shot of Taija sitting on the toilet hosing down her voluptuous lady taint had a post-coital sorrowfulness about it that, again, seemed eerily out of place.
The first of Angela's new wave/punk friends to arrive is Alice George (Paul Thomas). Appalled by his appearance–he's wearing a puffy shirt, a large black wig, and about a gallon of haphazardly applied make-up–Mrs. M doesn't even want to let him inside the house. When Angela assures her mother that it's just an act, she reluctantly lets him. Of course, they end up getting quite familiar with one another later on thanks to a tub of cold cream and a giant bottle of booze.
Bursting onto the screen like a crotch starved maniac, Sharon Mitchell (The Violation of Claudia) injects the proceedings with a foulmouthed viscosity. It's hard to believe she's a mere backup singer, because Sharon is a fucking superstar as Tweeky, a beer and pussy craving goddess with eye make-up that was just to die for. The epitome of new wave sensuality, Miss Mitchell causes Jerry Butler's cock and asshole to quiver with dampish fear. There's nothing sexier than watching a woman dominate a man, especially one as conniving Roger. The sight of him frazzled and unhinged by the saucy language Sharon throws his way was delightful.
Spiky-haired, covered in leather (including a cream-inducing pair of pointy boots and one fingerless glove), and sporting dehumanizing blue and electric pink lines across her optical infrastructure, Sharon forces Jerry to orally massage the meaty folds of her hairy sliver at a pace that suited her orgasmic requirements. Only after these needs were sufficiently fulfilled could Jerry dare think about penetrating her with his pathetic excuse for a penis.
Almost as if the producers were mentally eavesdropping on my fleshy desires, Sharon moves to the warm expanse of Sharon Kane's Susan immediately after she's done with Jerry's expended mess. Unencumbered by her leather and metallic outfit (naturally she keeps the fingerless glove on), Sharon devours her namesake's torso like it were an oversized ear of corn. My favourite part was when Sharon rubs her spiky hair around the surface area of Sharon's primary pleasure centre.
Unfortunately, that's pretty much it as far as Sharon Mitchell awesomeness goes.
A priest/cars salesmen (Johnny Nineteen) ends up having talkative bedroom sex with a random hanger-on named Pam (Rachel Ashley), while Joey Silvera's Ron hooks up with the other backup singer played Melanie Scott.
Increasingly unlikely that groom will ever show up, Angela and Roger (still sore over the fact that his wife is a lesbian) unanimously agree to fornicate with one another during a brief moment of boredom. Of course, with almost every room in the house occupied with people behaving lewdly, the two have to settle for bathroom as their place to crank out a quick shag.
It's true that I lost all interest in this film the second Sharon Mitchell and her spunky attitude walked out the door. But Taija's laughter as Jerry came on her lower back perfectly summed up her situation; in that, two guys have cum on her today, yet none of them were her groom-to-be. That's life in Detroit circa 1985, baby.
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I'd like to throw a nod of recognition in the general direction of The Gore Gore Girl for making me aware of the unique slab of '80s erotica.