Hey, late 1970s porno actress. Would it kill ya to put on an anklet? If you're too lazy to bend down that far, how 'bout a belly-chain? Call me perverted and sad, but I don't think that's too much to ask. I mean, for crying out loud, give me something to work with here. Ugh. At any rate, for a film that's purportedly about lingerie, there's an awful lot of nudity in it. I know, flicks like these are renowned for their nudity. But c'mon, man. Do they have to be naked all the time? As I was saying, like, ten seconds ago, the least they could do is put on an anklet or a belly-chain. However, as you've probably already figured out, no ankle or belly beautifying jewelry is forthcoming. No, what we get instead in Gail Palmer's Hot Legs is a series of sex scenes that boast naked men and naked women. If I wanted to watch unclothed animals humping on each other, I'd go down to the park. I don't know, maybe my expectations were too damn high, but I was hoping for more lingerie sex. On the positive side, a photographer (Paul Thomas) and his assistant (Sharon Kane) conduct a photo-shoot that features two female models wearing black stockings and skirts with healthy slits. If every scene had been like this, we would be talking about one of the greatest films of all-time. But every scene isn't like this, and that's the problem.
Now, this doesn't mean I'm going to ban myself from watching films directed by Bob Chinn in the future. It does, however, mean that I'm going to be somewhat cautious the next time the opportunity to watch one comes around.
Seriously, how do you fuck up a film about a fledgling lingerie company who are desperately trying to get the word out about their sexy product?
Okay, maybe "fuck up," is a tad harsh. But the fact that none of the sex scenes featured a stitch of lingerie was beyond aggravating.
Of course, I didn't notice this right away. What I think happened was, the sheer awesomeness of the opening credits sequence must have hampered my ability to think straight. That being said, after I eventually got my faculties back, I started to notice the nudity. And, much to my chagrin, I began to realize that none of the chicks were wearing stockings during sex.
I know, pretty outrageous, eh?
Getting back to the opening credits for a second. Everything from the leggy camera angles to the rockin' theme song was perfect. Sure, the stockings could have been blacker (they actually looked gray at times) and the theme song is no White Bunbusters (not much is), but as far as making first impressions go, Hot Legs had me eating out of the palm of its hand.
After the founder of Hot Legs, Mort (Richard Pacheco), is done smooth-talking John (Jon Martin), a potential investor, he heads over to his studio/office to see how things are progressing.
Stressed over the fact that he's got a deadline to meet, Mort starts to panic when he realizes that Annie Spencer (Jesie St. James), his star model, hasn't shown up for work yet.
You would think that the angry message Mort left on her giant, late 1970s answering machine would cause Annie to get her skinny ass in gear. But it doesn't. Lying sprawled out on her bed without any clothes on (boo!), Annie coos as her boyfriend (Blair Harris) laps up the crumpled outer layer of her wheatfield-esque girl squishy with his tongue.
Fans of fucking on film should take note that the sex scene between Oksana Baiul, I mean, Jesie St. James, and Bill Blair is the only one to feature a position other than the missionary position.
As Oksana Baiul and Bill Blair are going at it, a photographer named Dave (Paul Thomas), and his assistant Debbie (Sharon Kane), try to work around Annie's absence by shooting a nautical themed lingerie spread with Michelle (Jennifer Wolfe) and Candy (Adele Sloan), two models who are just as leggy as Annie.
(You called Jesie St. James Oksana Baiul again.) Oops. I always get Ukrainian figure skater Oksana Baiul and disco era porno actress Jesie St. James mixed up.
Telling Michele and Candy to "pull those slits up," the Dave and Debbie photo shoot sequence is probably the hottest scene in the entire movie.
It's definitely hotter than the sight of Bill Blair's balls being repeatedly shoved in my face. Wait, that didn't come out right. What I mean is, I grew tired of Bill Blair's balls. I will say this, though, I appreciated the fact that it looked like Bill had shaved them recently. Granted, the upper portion had some mild five o'clock shadow action going on. But the underside was silky smooth.
The testicular forecast for today is silky smooth with a chance of some mild pubic shadows appearing by the late afternoon (you might want to bring a toothpick).
In a bizarre twist, when Oksana Baiul finally does arrive for her photo shoot, what we get is a lot of face shots. What are you doing, Bob Chinn? The movie's called "Hot Legs," not "Hot Faces." Ahhh, this movie!!!! While it gets a ton of stuff right, its screw ups are glaring.
The lesbian scene between Oksana Baiul and Julie (Lisa Sue Corey), a demure seamstress, could be viewed as a screw up (it's pretty dull). But it does lead to one of the film's more clever sight gags. Let's just say it involves a Halston dress and an ironing board.
Since Halston was renowned for his disco-friendly clothing, it only makes sense that the next scene be about "Disco Hot Legs," nylons that will apparently allow women to show as much leg as they want (they're basically sparkle-covered tights).
If anyone had any doubts whether or not this film takes place during the disco era, they won't have any whatsoever when they see the Disco Hot Legs photo shoot sequence. Flashing lights, roller-skates, tongue kissing, Travolta posing, double-scrunchies, triangle-shaped earrings and a throbbing disco song ("oooh, you should be dancing... love on wheels"), this scene has got everything a fan of this particular period of history could want and more.
Of course, the models for the Disco Hot Legs (Penelope Jones and R.J. Reynolds) jettison their disco threads the moment the sex gets underway. Actually, we don't even get to see them jettison them, they're simply clothed one minute, completely naked the next. On the bright side, R.J.'s balls are dolphin smooth.
Oh, and since it wouldn't be a film from the late 1970s without a reference to the International Society for Krishna Consciousness, we get one in the form of a plot twist involving Oksana Baiul, I mean, Jesie St. James.
In closing, even though I was annoyed by the amount of nudity in this film, the sex scenes, unlike this review, are mercifully short. And given that this film was recently remastered by Vinegar Syndrome, it looks fantastic. The late 1970s have never looked so good.
