I didn't know guys with hairy taints performed cunnilingus in 1925. But according to Come With Me My Love (a.k.a. The Haunted Pussy), it was being dolled out like copious amounts of cotton candy. Which reminds me, it's not everyday that you see an erotic horror film that includes a prologue that takes place in the 1920s. But then again, Doris Wishman isn't your everyday kind of filmmaker. She sees things from a decidedly cockeyed point-of-view, and this film is proof of that. A supernatural thriller interspersed with scenes involving sexual intercourse with ghosts, the film is an epic tale about lust, jealously, desire, and revenge. And just like her previous masterpiece (and I use the word "masterpiece" sheepishly with a dash of sincerity), Satan Was a Lady, this film, featuring the groundbreaking cinematography of C. Davis Smith, takes place entirely inside a modest apartment building located near the park. However, its premise is bold and daring. Covering the topic of life after death in a thoughtful and intelligent manner, the film begs the question: Do the curtains match the drapes? If you have ever had the pleasure of watching a Doris Wishman film, then you know that's a loaded question. The chances the curtains would match anything, let alone the drapes, is highly unlikely. You see, Miss Wishman likes play around with our perception of what constitutes tasteful interior design. Pushing the limits of home decor to the outer reaches of gaudiness, this film will test the integrity of your eyeballs. But don't worry erection/wetness fans, the film is also filled with the kind of mid-70s-style fucking and sucking that will keep the contents of your respective crotches on their crotchety toes. Just thought I'd throw that out there just in case anyone was worrying that the film was exclusively an exercise in tawdry feng shui.
There are three separate events that occur before the ghost of a spurned husband from the 1920s can begin to have sex with a drugged woman that looks exactly like his dead wife. First, the curtains begin to ripple as the result of an eerie breeze. Second, we can't help but notice that the sky looks like it's on fire. And last but not least, the blurry shape of mustached man suddenly appears in front of a wall covered with garish red and white wallpaper. And judging by the number of times the dead guy from the twenties has sexual relations with the 1970s version of dead wife's doppelgänger, we're going to see a whole lot of that wallpaper.
Welcome to Kenmare City. Where? You know, Kenmare City. Actually, to be honest, I've never heard of Kenmare City. It says here that there's Kenmare in North Dakota. But nothing about a Kenmare City. Here's an idea, maybe Doris Wishman simply made it up. Anyway, it's 1925, and Randolph (Jeffery Hurst) is creeping up the stairs; the black and white picture quality is grainy to give the film a 1920s feel. Opening the door to his apartment, he stumbles upon his wife (Ursula Austin) canoodling in the buff with a guy (Terry Austin) who is supposedly Randolph's best friend. They don't see him standing there, so they continue to canoodle. After awhile their canoodling morphs into the realm of oral sex. Oral sex?!? In the 1920s?!? Blow jobs I can see, as men have always liked to have their cocks orally serviced. But cunnilingus?!? I'm telling you, I just can't picture it happening back then. Really? You can't picture men going down on women during the so-called roaring twenties? Okay, maybe you're right. Forget everything I just said about oral sex and 1920s.
Visibly annoyed, okay, more like, enraged, Randolph interrupts them, pulls out a gun (maybe he didn't "stumble upon" them, after all), announces his displeasure, and proceeds to shoot his best friend in the chest. You would think that this would be the moment when Randolph's wife would start to scream (she just watched the guy whose face was just all up in her pussy shot to death). But no, she throws her wedding ring off in disgust and basically tells Randolph to go fuck himself. As she did that, I thought to myself, yeah, you go, girl. After shooting her in the head, Randolph turns the gun on himself.
Welcome to Kenmare City... Hey, man, didn't you already say that? Can't a brother finish a sentence? I'm sorry, go ahead. Welcome to Kenmare City, it's 1976, and Abby (Ursula Austin) is walking up the stairs to her new apartment. Dressed like Little Edie from Grey Gardens and carrying the world's reddest suitcase, Abby enters her new digs, which we get a brief tour of thanks to a spinning camera shot.
Meanwhile, at another apartment building, a guyed named Patrick (Robert Kerman) and a blonde woman, oh, let's call her, Beatrice (Nancy Dare), are engaged in the 69 position, when Lola (Vanessa Del Rio) shows up. Asking if them if she can join them, Robert Kerman pulls his face out of Beatrice's ass and replies, "Sure, come on over." I don't know what these people have to do with the plot. Nevertheless, they provide the bulk of the non-ghost sex in this movie. Oh, I remember, Abby knows Lola somehow, and she calls her every now and then. It doesn't quite justify they're presence, but at least they're loosely connected to the story.
Since Abby can't call Lola on her phone (the one in her apartment isn't hooked up yet), she uses her neigbour's phone instead. And you know what that means? That's right, it's time for Annie Sprinkle to make her shapely presence felt. Yay! I love Annie Sprinkle! Oozing a naive exuberance, Annie plays Tess Albertino, Abby's helpful next-door neighbour, like her life depended on it. She does what? Yeah, she has urgency about her that practically screamed quiet desperation. If you say so.
Maybe it's the new apartment (the carpet is blood red) or maybe it's the eerie creaking noises, but either way, Abby is having trouble sleeping. Suddenly, a bottle of sleeping pills magically appear on her nightstand. Doing what any normal person would do, Abby takes one of the mysterious pills, removes her sea green nightie and goes to bed. What occurs next is a sight we're going to be quite familiar with by the time this film is over, and that is: Curtains, sky, wind, wallpaper, and ghost. When you see these five things show up in this order (the "wind" is usually represented by the sight of Abby's hair being jostled by a stiff breeze), you know you're about to see something truly out of this world. Or more specifically, tiny droplets of ghost jizz sloshing around on Abby's naturally flat stomach with nowhere to go.
Emerging from the red wallpaper, Randolph's ghost walks up to Abby's bed and begins to grope her flesh. Besides the fact that he came out of the wallpaper, how do you know he's a ghost? Well, for starters, Doris Wishman shows us what's being in reflected in Abby's mirror. And what do we don't see? We don't see two people engaging in a raucous bought of mid-1970s-style sexual intercourse, we only see Abby, who, according to her mirror, appears to be hugging/humping no-one. The sight of Abby having sex with the air is hands down the film's most haunting image.
Wandering in the dark with only a candle guide her way (the lights in her apartment stopped working for some strange reason), Abby is trying to find the fusebox. What she finds instead is Tess' Movie Date (Levi Richards), who startles her by grabbing her arm. Taking him back to her apartment, Abby offers to get Tess' Movie Date a drink. She makes it all but four feet, when Tess' Movie Date grabs her again (this Tess' Movie Date guy, he's one grabby motherfucker), and steers Abby the direction of her bedroom where they engage in, you guessed it, a raucous bought of mid-1970s-style sexual intercourse.
If you're wondering what Tess doing during all this. Wonder no more, because I'm totally about to tell you...for some inexplicable reason. Waiting in her apartment for Tess' Movie Date to show up, Tess, who looks sexy in a slinky black dress, taps her fingers on her hips and paces back and forth like a caged animal. Call me someone who is one gourd sort of a six pack, but I'd rather watch Annie Sprinkle act frustrated in a gaudily furnished apartment, than watch Levi Richard's unkempt ball sack bounce around inside Ursula Austin's mouth.
She might not kill with her cunt, but terrible things seem to happen to all those who enter its gaping expanse. Case in point, Tess' Movie Date leaves Abby's apartment the following morning, and goes home. While Abby did a pretty good job washing his genitals, you should really take a bath, you know, just to be on the safe side. Only problem is, your radio is sitting on the edge of your bath tub. Meaning, you're practically inviting a jealous ghost, one who is none too pleased that you just had sex with a woman who looks exactly like his dead wife from 1920s, to push the radio in the water. Oh, Tess' Movie Date, when will you ever learn?
Am I crazy, or does the 69 position really bring out the luster in Ursula Austin's thighs? What's that? You're saying I am crazy?!? Interesting. And here I thought I was being perfectly sane. At any rate, the curtains, the wind, the sky, the wallpaper, and the ghost return, as Abby is visited yet again by Randolph's phantom cock.
Oh, and don't feel sorry for Tess. Sure, she was stood up by Tess' Movie Date, but she has plenty of suitors who want to rake her proverbial cornfield. Inviting a slab of brainless man-candy (Roger Caine) over to fuck her on a drawer, Tess gets the ripe dicking she deserves. Even though the wallpaper nearly steals the scene, nothing beats the sight of Annie Sprinkle in black stockings, chunky black shoes, and a black garter belt. Nothing, I tell you. Nothing!
In the film's most bizarre sequence, Abby wanders the park during a blizzard. If the weather wasn't bad enough, some ponce starts throwing snowballs at her. What? Yeah, snowballs. Three to be exact. You're being inundated with paranormal penis on a nightly basis, so you go to the park to clear your head. When you get there, this asshole decides use you as target practice. That's some fucked up shit, if you don't mind my saying so. To make matters worse, when she gets home, a wedding ring suddenly appears on her finger. And, of course, she can't seem to remove it.
The curtains, the wind, the sky, the wallpaper, and the ghost appear four more times before all is said and done, as more hairy balls are gargled and more people end up dead. With Ernie Hudson nowhere in sight, will Abby be able to resist the horny ghost who lives inside her wallpaper? Who's to say, but Come With Me My Love is Doris Wishman at her most sinister. An erotic horror classic for the ages, the film is a must-see for fans of hairy taints, hairy balls, hairy vaginas, let's just say, hairy everything. Though, Annie Sprinkle's pussy is surprisingly hairless, and... Let me start over. If you like a pinch of horror with your porn, then you will want to go see Come With Me My Love. If this film is not currently playing at your local erotic theatre, make sure you tell the manager that you want them to screen Come With Me My Love.