Sunday, June 23, 2013

Her Name Was Lisa (Roger Watkins, 1980)

Why does Paul the photographer look so sad when he is ultimately forced to sever all his personal and professional ties with one of his top models? Is the answer: A) His erect penis will no longer be allowed to penetrate her wet pussy on a semi-regular basis B) His camera will no longer be allowed to take pictures of her succulent organic structure...on a semi-regular basis C) He knows what sort of degradation lies ahead for the wispy massage parlour employee turned fashion model with the creamy thighs that bruise easily, or D) All of the above. If you answered 'D,' then you my friend know that 1980 is a dangerous place for a 5'1" no-nonsense brunette who dreams of becoming a fashion model. Actually, we never really get to know what Lisa (Samantha Fox), the title character in Her Name Was Lisa, was aspiring to be. And it's no wonder, she's dead. Um, hello? Hows about giving us a heads up next time? You mean a spoiler warning?!? Eww, how vulgar. Truth be told, I don't think a spoiler warning is really necessary in this film's case. You see, the film, which is directed by Roger Watkins, a.k.a. Richard Mahler (The Last House on Dead End Street), opens with a shot of Lisa lying dead in a casket, so, yeah. And besides, the film's title uses the word "was" as supposed to "is." Meaning, this film tells its story through flashbacks that document how Lisa eventually wound up in that casket. And judging by her youthful vigor, slender frame, and the twinkle in her eye, I'm going to go ahead and assume that she didn't die of natural causes. No, I'd say the excesses of the era and the selfishness of others are what lead to Lisa's ultimate downfall.   
First things first, Samantha Fox, not to be confused with the British pop singer/glamour model of the same name, looks amazing in this film. She exudes a tough, streetwise attitude yet she can also be soft and elegant at the same time. In other words, she is very sexy, especially when she's holding a whip while her waist area is being lassoed by a leather garter belt. However, I have a feeling some people might have trouble buying Samantha as a fashion model. Why's that? I don't know, but I think it might have something to do the toughness I just alluded to. On the other hand, you shouldn't really apply today's freakish standards to the models of yesteryear. Oh yeah. I'm sorry about that. I keep forgetting that models weren't always emaciated string beans with trendy cocaine habits. That's right. They used to be diminutive porn stars with trendy heroin habits; there's a big difference.
Giving a performance that reminded me a lot of Dorothy LeMay's turn in Nightdreams–in that, her moist holes are poked and prodded in almost every scene–Samantha Fox's bruise-laden thighs tell no lies, as her tight little body oozes truth from every pore.
Naked, dead, and wrapped in plastic, how did Lisa, a feisty brunette with her whole life ahead of her, end up in a wooden box? Well, I guess it all began when Paul (Rick Iverson) wandered into the massage parlour where Lisa works. Telling the woman sitting behind the desk that he would like a "massage," Paul's instructed, after paying twenty bucks, to choose from the ladies that have been haphazardly assembled before him. Unimpressed by what he sees during his initial head turn, Paul suddenly notices a brunette sitting with her back to him smoking a cigarette like she were Greta Garbo. It takes the clerk  couple of tries to get her attention, but she eventually turns around and acknowledges Paul's presence.     
Insisting on calling him "Buddy," Lisa, who is wearing a dark red leotard, orders Paul to take off all his clothes, and informs him that he has fifteen minutes. However, it's clear right away that Paul has no interest in getting a massage. It would seem that he's a photographer and he's there not to get a rub and tug, but to ask Lisa if she would interested in posing for some pictures.
In order to prove that Paul isn't joking around, we're treated to a surprisingly chic photo shoot sequence that   features "The Robots" by Kraftwerk throbbing on the soundtrack. Very stylish and filled with...Hold the phone. Did you say Kraftwerk?!? The Kraftwerk? The guys from Düsseldorf? Yeah, that Kraftwerk. How is that physically possible? I don't know, but the photo shoot sequence in Her Name Was Lisa totally features "The Robots" by Kraftwerk in all its techno-pop glory. Anyway, boasting blood-stained faces, boobies, and pistols, Lisa wanders into Paul's studio just as the shoot was winding down.
After the other models leave, Paul uses the phrase "my girls" when offering Lisa a job as a model. Big mistake, Paul, as Lisa hates that term (she's nobodies "girl"). Either way, Lisa is dancing to disco in nothing but her gold panties in no time. Heaving and thrusting her realistic crotch in every possible direction, Lisa eventually stops dancing in order to place Paul's cock in her mouth. Returning the favour, Paul pulls off Lisa's dusty gold panties and plants the bottom half of his face squarely into her ass. As Paul plows his erect penis into one of the crevices where his face once was, you'll notice that Lisa's panties are desperately hanging onto her foot and that Samantha Fox has a great fuck face. 
During their after sex chat/smoke, Lisa tells Paul that what they just did was strictly business. What I liked about their post-coital conversation, besides the fact that Lisa is one tough cookie, is that Paul uses the word "sarcastic." And since I've never heard that word used in an erotic movie before, I was quite taken aback by its unexpected usage.
When not modeling, not giving massages, or not taking any sass, you can usually find Lisa hanging out at a local spa. She does what most people do when they visit the spa (swim, walk around in a towel). But Lisa, I noticed, likes to use her spa time to try out her side ponytail; Lisa only wears her hair in a side ponytail while at the spa.
Hey, why is Paul the photographer so glum? Well, it would seem that his time as Lisa's photographer of choice is about to come to an end. Enter Stephen Sweet (David Pierce), a sadistic magazine publisher who wants Lisa to be his, uh...Actually, I'm not quite sure what he wants with her. All I know is that Mr. Sweet wants her and there's nothing Paul the photographer can do stop him. Ordering Paul to get them some food (he basically tells him to scram), Stephen starts to molest Lisa the second the photog vacates the premises. The see-through nightie Lisa was wearing for the photo shoot quickly falls by the wayside, as Mr. Sweet pulls down his pants and waits for her full lips to latch onto his manhood.     
While Lisa and Mr. Sweet were doing the sex thing, I couldn't help but notice a couple of things. 1) If Mr. Sweet is so "punctual," why doesn't he wear a watch? (Mr. Sweet often brags about his punctuality) 2) For a man who professes to be powerful, Mr. Sweet's penis and the milky syrup it occasionally produces do not reflect this power at all.
Taking Lisa to his swanky apartment, Mr. Sweet tells her to make herself at home. She might not know it yet, but Lisa is no longer a model, she's Mr. Sweet's live-in sex slave. Told to put on the clothes that are lying spread out on the bed, Mr. Sweet informs her that he'll be back at ten. And since he's punctual, he shows up at ten on the dot. Waiting for him in black stockings, a black leather garter belt, a studded choker, and black leather bra, Lisa says, "take your clothes off" in authoritative manner. As she is strapping him to the bed with leather restraints (she forces him to wear a leather mask as well), the sound of "Will-o' the Wisp" by Passport starts to pummel us with its jazz funk brand of awesomeness. What this film lacks in buckets of opaque fluid, it more than makes up for it with its killer soundtrack.
"Don't come back until your tongue grows six inches longer," says Lisa, who is clearly not satisfied with Mr. Sweet's annilingis technique.

If you thought it was odd that Mr. Sweet allowed Lisa to be so cruel to him (she throws recently extinguished matches at him at one point). Don't worry, Mr. Sweet has something nasty in store for her. And their names are Male Rapist #1 (Bobby Astyr) and Male Rapist #2 (Randy West), two friends that Mr. Sweet wants Lisa to treat "especially nice." I don't think I need to tell you what happens next when Male Rapist #1 and Male Rapist #2 show up at Mr. Sweet's door.
Covered in bruises, Lisa is comforted by Carmen (Vanessa del Rio), a fellow spa enthusiast. And by "comforted," I mean Carmen performs cunnilingus on Lisa's haggered pussy.
Wondering why Lisa is dressed so "un-provocatively," Mr. Sweet, whose drink has been drugged, is confused by the behaviour of his live-in sex slave. Just as Lisa is putting the finishing touches on her striptease, Carmen enters the room wearing black stockings, a black leather garter belt, a black bra, and a black leather trench coat. Even though he's kind of out it, Mr. Sweet seems pleased to see Carmen, who is brandishing a whip. After Lisa does what any sane person would (sprinkle Vanessa del Rio's stocking adorned legs with many kisses), Mr. Sweet busies himself with Carmen's pussy. While Mr. Sweet is occupied, you'll notice that Lisa is attaching something to her crotch. It's almost as if she is strapping something on. It couldn't be? Could it? It is! She's putting on a strap-on dildo. I'm surprised she bothered to slather it with lube, because Mr. Sweet's unexplored asshole doesn't deserve the mucusy goodness that only a healthy dollop of lube can provide.
Anyway, Lisa officially ends her relationship, if you can call it that, by sticking the dildo in Mr. Sweet's ass to the strains of "Gimme Some Lovin'" by Kongas (a song that was ruined in the 1980s when a slightly altered version was used in an ad for Molson Canadian). How did a 5' 1" brunette manage to penetrate a hulking magazine publisher? I've got two words for you. Wait, make that three words: Vanessa del Rio. If anyone can pin a hulking magazine publisher to the ground so that a smaller woman can fuck him in the ass with a strap-on dildo, it's her.
If you think Lisa is out of the proverbial shag carpeting, think again. Her trip to rock bottom has just begun. Actually, that's not true; rock bottom was visited when Lisa is raped by Male Rapist #1 and Male Rapist #2. Either way, things don't get better for Lisa after shacking up with Carmen. In fact, things only get worse, as she develops, no thanks to Carmen, a debilitating heroin habit. Dealing with issues such as mortality, drug abuse, and rape, Her Name Was Lisa is an adult movie made for adults. Aren't most adult movies made for adults? Yeah, I guess. But this one seems more mature than your average fuck film; it has an air of sophistication about it that most adult films seem to lack.    
Holy crap! I almost forgot, how did the producers manage to put Led Zeppelin's "Dazed and Confused" on the soundtrack? I know, they probably didn't even bother to ask permission. But still, I'm surprised they able to get away with it, as I hear the band is quite protective when it comes to other people using their music.

video uploaded by the super-terrific Casey Scott


  1. "Full Erection! 100%!"

    More like "Full Dejection! 100,000%!"

    Poor Lisa. People are awful.

  2. Dazed and COnfused was ripped off from a folk song, so maybe this is karmic revenge.

    Roger is probably the only porn director whose greatness of le cinema de boink is inversely proportional to the level of eroticism.

  3. Damn, after quickly reading about the history of "Dazed and Confused," it would seem the song has a bit of contentious history; lawsuits, copyright infringement, hurt feelings, etc.

    "Le cinema de boink" *giggle giggle*