Weekend with the Babysitter (Don Henderson, 1971)

Taking place on land, in the air, and out on the high seas, for a movie that is reputedly about spending the end of the work week with a spur-of-the-moment childcare provider, the characters in Weekend with the Babysitter seem to rack up a lot of travel miles. Motocross dirt is shredded, alpine snow is stepped upon, and rickety piers are scaled, everything except the act of babysitting seems to transpire in this busy film. Misguided nitpicking aside, an older gentlemen actual does spend an extended period of time with a female teenager who did intend on watching some brat (there was a scheduling error). So, the title isn't misleading; I just didn't expect it to be so action-packed. Either way, the irrepressible Don Henderson and the wishes he was debonair George E. Carey (the geniuses behind the 1969 barn burner The Babysitter), have re-teamed to give us this hep tale about middle-aged squareness coming face-to-face with the era's new brand of cool. Movie producer Jim Carlton (Carey) and his actress wife Mona (Luanne Roberts) are fighting about absurd nonsense like they always do, when suddenly, their inordinately sexy babysitter, Candy Wilson (Susan Romen), arrives at the door yearning to babysit. Only problem is, neither of them had called her. Jim sees this snafu as an opportunity (why waste a sitter?) and asks Mona if she wants to go out to dinner. She rejects this idea, explaining vehemently that she already has plans.

Leaving Jim all alone with the tautly bodied Candy, the two talk about his latest film script. She thinks the youthful dialogue is phony and invites him out to see how real young people interact. Opening his eyes to the world of psychedelic rock, ganja usage, and motocross, Candy introduces the button-down Jim to a totally different outlook on life. Mona, on the other hand, it turns out, is in cahoots with a gang of heroin pushers.

An addict herself, Mona is pressured into letting her drug dealing associates "borrow" Jim's boat in order to smuggle some smack from Mexico (no boat, no fix is their sales pitch).

With Mona strung out and in deep doodoo at sea, and Jim canoodling with Candy and learning how to smoke reefer with a group of friendly hippie bikers sporting names like, Mary Mary (Gloria Hill), A.K. (Bob Bernard), and Snitch (Steve Vinovich), how will the day be saved? I mean, there's no way Jim can save Mona. Well, for one thing, I wouldn't underestimate Jim. If there's one person who can bang the babysitter while rescuing his junkie wife from a trio of dangerous drug fiends, it's Jim.

A middle-aged fantasy taken to the extreme, George E. Carey has created a sort of square superhero in Jim Carlton. Giving him the ability to master any kind of motorized vehicle at the drop of a hat, Mr. Carey has made himself out to be the envy of an aging generation. The carefree manner in which his character was able to adapt to the hippie way of life must have been an inspiration to those on the brink of doddering in the audience.

While not as wonderfully perverted as The Babysitter, the titillation factor in Weekend with the Babysitter is still quite strong. You only have to look the film's apparent obsession with motorbikes, May-December romances, drug use, and lesbianism to the realize that Don Henderson is the one calling the shots. Unfortunately, all the time spent out on that boat was kinda tedious (despite Annik Borel's scintillating drugged out dyke schtick), and the trip to the mountains was a tad too showy. Come on, man, what am I doing here? Watching a thoughtful travelogue or a sleazy exploitation picture?

Sexy without even trying, Susan Romen is a visual treat as the ubiquitous Candy Wilson. Sure, she's nowhere close to being as impish as Patricia Wymer was in The Babysitter, but Romen does have a refined charm about her, especially when she's walking around in those knee-high boots of hers. Actually, to be honest, I found some of her yammering about the wonders of being a hippie to be self-important, and the constant blank look on her face didn't exactly inspire confidence. That being said, her uninteresting facial performance did make this film a pleasant waste of time.

video uploaded by Drive-In Films and Anything 70s

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The Babysitter (Don Henderson, 1969)

She may look shy and innocent. But don't be fooled, this is one babysitter you don't want to mess with. An extremely perverted premise that is handled, and fondled slightly with the docile guardianship of a reluctant serial subway groper, the aptly named The Babysitter is a tender and surprisingly gritty tale about forbidden lust, marital stress, personal freedom, and biker-based blackmail. Pulling no punches when it came to portraying the generational divide that existed at the time between the taco-eating hippie youth and their more conservative, bridge-playing parents, the film directed by Don Henderson is an out of sight quick fix for those suffering from the mid-life crisis blues. Nagged to the point where his man-sack has gone on permanent vacation, fancy prosecuting lawyer George Maxwell (the workmanlike George E. Carey) is having marital trouble. His wife Edith (a wonderfully shrill Anne Bellamy) is always insisting they go out and socialize with her lame ass friends, while all he wants to do is stay home and repeatedly prod her sloppy vagina with his ten pound penis. On shaky ground to begin with, their estranged routine is forcibly turned upside down when the supple legs of their vivacious babysitter skip playfully through their front door.

Attached to these fleshy sex sticks is the rambunctious Candy Wilson (Patricia Wymer), a sweet morsel just waiting to be defiled. Actually, it's not as unseemly as it sounds. I mean, Candy isn't childlike at all. In fact, she's so full of gumption, that she invites a rock band (complete with naked go-go dancers) over to play the Maxwell's basement while there away for the evening. I know, talk about a groovy chick. Anyway, while it may seem like Candy and George are flirting with one another during the car ride home, it's actually the youthful dumpling in the mini-skirt who makes all the moves (George is literally putty in her hands). Her impromptu taco eating seminar, by the way, was an excellent metaphor for the bane of improperly executed cunnilingus during the post-war era.

Complicating matters is Julie Freeman (Kathy Williams), the "old lady" of a biker accused of murder. Luckily for her, Julie is friends with George's no-nonsense lesbian daughter, Joan (Sheri Jackson), and plans on taking photographs of Joan licking and caressing her alluring girlfriend (Ruth Noonan) pool side. You see, George is prosecuting Julie's biker beau and wants to blackmail him with the salacious photos. Of course, with the middle-aged lawyer now cavorting with the babysitter, compromising pictures of closeted lesbians won't be necessary (or possible - the blurry glass of the sauna door impeded her attempts to get any pictures of them together), as the scurrilous Kathy sets her sights on George and Candy.

Now, the whole babysitter being intimate with her much older employer is one of the most well-worn stories around (there wouldn't be modern pornography without it, so I've been told). However, whereas as most babysitter plots are more creepy than they are titillating, there's a real playfulness to The Babysitter. Boasting coltish montages that involve light petting and small-scale nudity, the film isn't about cheap erections and unearned provocation. It's just about two people who dig one another from different sides of the counterculture, and I can't be against that, no matter how hard I try.

Reminding me of Drew Barrymore circa Poison Ivy mixed with the wide-eyed innocence of Melanie Hutsell circa how the fuck should I know, Patricia Wymer (The Young Graduates) imbues her mischievous babysitter with enough moxie to destroy the synapses of a thousand deviants (I bet she could do this with just a single look). Extolling the virtues of personal freedom and demanding the most out of life, Candy is the expected voice of her time.

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