Thursday, August 28, 2014

Nymphs (Anonymous) (Manuel Conde, 1968)

In my non-award winning review of the hippie-era non-classic, The Brick Dollhouse (shot in eyeball compromising colour), you might recall that I stated that I fully intended to seek out more films by Helena Clayton. Well, as you can clearly see, I wasn't kidding around. That's right, baby, I found one. And get this, the movie I found was sitting right under my nose. Paired with the totally awesome She Mob on the "Girl Gang Double Feature" DVD put out by Something Weird Video, my desire to bask in the otherworldly beauty that is Helena Clayton is the reason I finally got around to watching Nymphs (Anonymous), a softcore quasi-feminist farce/filmed headache. Okay, maybe that's a tad harsh, but it will test the patience of some viewers. This viewer, however, was mainly concerned with seeing Helena Clayton act all campy and junk. I know, going in I had no idea Helena Clayton's performance in this movie was going to be campy. But let's get real, shall we? I mean, I don't think Helena Clayton has a bone in her body that isn't campy. You could say, Helena Clayton oozes camp. But I won't, since I'm trying to cut down on the amount of times I use the word "ooze" in a single day. Let's just say, she exudes camp.

Credited as just "Elena," the wait for Helena Clayton to appear onscreen was excruciating. And since I was unsure how big her part was, I nervously waded through the early going of this tedious piece of sexploitation fluff with bated breath. Again, I think that's a tad harsh. The film, while, yes, it can be quite tedious in places, does have a strange, off-kilter charm about it. And it has lot's of scenes that boast attractive women with natural breasts in garter belts.

(Natural breasts in garter belts?!? This I gotta see!) No, what I mean is... ugh.

Since the suspense is probably killing most of you, I'll come right out and say it: Helena Clayton's performance in Nymphs (Anonymous) was not only campy, it exceeded my expectations, camp-wise. Sure, she only appears in one scene, but it's best scene in the entire movie. And, no, I'm not just saying that because I'm currently obsessed with Miss Clayton. It rules on so many levels. Of course, the main level being: the Helena Clayton factor.

Looking over the film's cast list, it would seem that Helena Clayton wasn't the only one who used a pseudonym for this movie. Take, for example, the film's two lead characters, Laura and Stan Ellis, they're played by "Natasha" and "Gordon." And, of course, wouldn't you know it, Nymphs (Anonymous) are the only films Natasha and Gordon ever appeared in.

Which is sort of odd because Natasha, while she looks at the camera on several occasions, seems to have a modicum of talent (and she kinda looks like Zosia Mamet from certain angles), and Gordon has this proto-Leif Garrett vibe about him that was on the cusp of being endearing.

Nevertheless, it was strange to see the words: "Starring Natasha and Gordon" in the opening credits. Which reminds me, the film's theme song is beyond... Hmm, I can't decide whether the theme song from Nymphs (Anonymous) was beyond catchy or beyond annoying. Let's just say it was a bit of both. And besides, with lyrics like, "Love, love, love that's our motto... Yeah!" how can it not be?

Sitting on a bar in a black lace body-stocking with her legs crossed, the executive secretary of "The Federation," is giving a speech to the faithful. Speaking to a group of women wearing masks, it would appear that the executive secretary (Nancy O'Malley) runs some sort of cock-based delivery service for horny suburban chicks. Applying for membership is Laura Ellis, a bored housewife who can't seem to get her husband Stan to fuck her (he's too busy with work to care about her aching pussy).

After failing to extract any sex from Stan, Laura paces back and forth in a black see-through nightie. Undaunted, Laura tries to get her accountant to penetrate her. After that fails to yield any sexy results, Laura paces and back and forth in a white see-through nightie. Still undaunted, Laura tries to seduce a vacuum salesmen. The key word there being "tries."

The shot of the executive secretary straddling a stuffed tiger and between the legs camera angle used during the vacuum salesman's pitch are this film's best moments so far. When her fourth attempt to attain sexual satisfaction ends in failure (she tries to persuade her rotund shrink to have sex with her), she calls the executive secretary one more time for help (the executive secretary has been dodging her calls all morning). And wouldn't you know it, her membership application has been approved, and The Federation immediately sends over two studs to placate her pugnacious pussy.

Unfortunately, Stan comes home from work just as the studs were about to get their dicks wet. An irate Stan can't believe Laura would stoop to allowing male prostitutes (gun-totting male prostitutes, mind you) to sully their modestly furnished home.

Promising to keep an eye on her, Stan finds one of many the houses that The Federation operate in their neighbourhood (a sweet pad with a circular driveway) and watches the comings and goings from the top of a nearby hill.

As he's doing this, Stan notices that women are going to the house to get "serviced." And the first women he sees is a petite blonde with a cute bum. After some mild pool side horseplay, the petite blonde is doubled-teamed by two studs (one with a hairy back).

The next woman to arrive is... Oooh. This is what we've been waiting for. Okay, this is what I've been waiting for. Anyway, it's taken close to thirty minutes, but get ready, Helena Clayton is about to class things up with her elegance and grace. And, not to mention, her killer legs and spectacular breasts.

She might be classy, but her particular kink is anything but. Constantly batting her eyelashes, Joyce (Helena Clayton) enters the home to find two well-dressed men in dark suits.

Sitting down on a chair, Joyce crosses her legs and lights a cigarette. When one of the men hands Joyce a martini, the topic of the conversation turns to her high society husband. Describing their relationship as "perfectly wonderful," Joyce goes on and on about how great things are.

Offered to dance by one of the men, Joyce agrees. Suddenly, the classical music stops, and the men crowd around Joyce in a menacing manner. Calling her everything from a slut to a cheap alley cat, one of the men says, "Are you going to take it off or are we going to have to tear it off?"

The look Joyce throws the two men when one them calls her a cheap alley cat is glorious.

While her dress is removed in a calm and rational manner, her lingerie is torn asunder by the two men. With her garter belt and bra reduced to tatters, the two men begin to beat Joyce with their belts.

Writhing on the floor in what appears to be agony, Joyce is actually enjoying the beating she's currently receiving. Her stockings now languishing below her knees with no garter-based support whatsoever, Joyce is eventually helped to her feet, and is asked once again if she would like to dance. As one of the men pulls Joyce against his body, she whispers something in his ear. To the surprise of no one, she thanks him for treating her in a way her husband would not.

As Joyce leaves fully satisfied, guess who shows up next? That's right, it's Laura. When Stan sees Laura cavorting with two Federation studs pool side, he does what any spurned husband would do: He aims a high-powered rifle at the men and kills them both.

Sneaking down after dark, Stan confronts Laura in the house. "Rape me before you kill me, all sex murderers do that," she tells him. To which Stan responds, "I'm no sex murderer, I'm your husband." This is hands down the best exchange in the entire movie. After losing his rifle, Stan finds himself trapped in the Federation house and forced to act as a Federation stud. Meaning, he has to "service" a virtual cavalcade of attractive women.

He entertains a university professor with amazing tits (tan stockings and white garter belt), rips three dresses off a woman (it was her request), has sex with the wife (black stockings and black garter belt) of a germaphobe/TV addict, and gets roughed up by a couple of dykes (tan stockings and black garter belt).

As for the bodies of the two dead studs, they're moved from the freezer to the trunk of several cars about six or seven times over the course of the film. I like unorthodox body disposal as much as the next guy, but this is ridiculous. Which is the perfect way to sum up this movie. It's ridiculous, yet like I said before, it has a strange, off-kilter charm about it.

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