Babyface 2 (Alex de Renzy, 1986)

Ahh, look at me. I'm staring in the general direction of a motion picture of some kind, and, get this, I want to write words about it for some inexplicable reason. Now, I wasn't entirely sure if they still made motion pictures, or, "movies," as they're sometimes referred to. So, just to be safe, I selected one from a time period I knew was rife was movies. 1986, baby! I also picked one that featured plenty of disgustingly beautiful guys unloading lukewarm seminal fluid all over ultra-soft girl flesh. Why? Because that's what I like to pretend I like to watch/wallow in. Duh. I ain't kidding around, when the exhaustive orgy at the centre of Alex de Renzy's Babyface 2 goes into overdrive, I knew I had made the right choice. Actually, I felt a warm tingly sensation (where? I'd rather not say) when Jamie Gillis emerges from the cake at a well-attended bachelorette party taking place in some unnamed porno-soaked iridescent pantie stain of a city. Call me seriously unwell, but I'd rank Jamie Gillis introduction in Babyface 2 to be easily one of the greatest moments in cinema. Hyperbole? Maybe. Well, definitely, maybe, as I don't remember what 'hyperbole' means exactly. Just a second... an exaggerated statement or claim. Right. It might be that, but I swear to Satan, the sight of Jamie Gillis being all gross and slovenly as the stripper at a well-attended bachelorette party taking place in some unnamed rape-tinged overused diaphragm of a city was fucking glorious. Proving that he still knows a thing or two about defying conventions (from an anal and allegorical point of view), Alex de Renzy casts Jamie Gillis instead of, oh, let's say, the frightfully dim Francois Papillon as the stripper.

 

It's a stroke of genius.

Get it? Stroke? Most of the people (i.e. dudes) watching this movie will, at some point, stroke their blood-filled cock for pleasure-related purposes. Don't blame them for doing so, they do the bulk of their thinking with those things. Hmmm, I wonder what Ernest Borgnine's final erection would have thought of that pun? (You mean his final deathbed erection?) Yeah, that erection. I wonder about stuff like that when I'm not ovulating.

Anyway, I happen to think Jamie Gillis is gorgeous... in Waterpower from the mid-1970s. However, this film is from the mid-1980s. In other words, Jamie Gillis, to put it bluntly, looks like a scumbag. Yet, despite his overt scumbaggery, I can't help but overtly love the creepy fucking fuckface fucker.

  
I want to elope with the mustard stains on his undershirt... do crack cocaine on the outskirts of a fever dream until the end of time.

Out of all the cocks that appear in this movie, I'd say the one attached to Kevin James is the most appealing from a I want to suck it standpoint.

The main draw from a "I like to bang hot chicks all night long" angle, is, of course, Taija Rae and Lois Ayres.

I know, I know, why didn't open with a protracted soliloquy on the merits of Taija Rae's robust thighs or Lois Ayres' to die for new wave hairdo. Well, first things first, things are slightly different now. My brain is soaking in the mucus-laden contents of Tyne Daly's designer colostomy bag. So... That being said, I was relieved to see Jerry Butler's working class pelvic region cause Taija Rae's thick, Philly-raised buttocks ripple as a direct result of his equally working class pelvic thrusts. I sorely missed watching Jerry Butler mount Taija Rae for sex-related purposes.

Rivers of jizz, years of despair.

In fact, there were many moments in this film that caused me to get somewhat emotional. I didn't cry, exactly. But I started to realize midway through Babyface 2 how much I love well made sleaze. And Babyface 2 is definitely well made. Granted, it's not quite up to the level of Alex de Renzy's Pretty Peaches, Pretty Peaches 2, Pretty Peaches 3, or even Femmes de Sade. But it's way better than most of the putrid garbage floating around out there.

You could say, the film's biggest star is the wind machine, which keeps a steady indoor breeze going for the entire length of the film's epic orgy scene. But I won't say that... even though I sort of just did.

No, the film's biggest asset is its all star cast.

  
It's no secret, Taija Rae, Lois Ayres and Jamie Gillis are three of my favourite actors. And each get plenty of screen time.   

 
However, in the early going, the film belongs to Lois Ayres and Kevin James (Johnny Rico from Café Flesh).

(Why did you watch the video for "Magic" by The Cars before starting this review?)

Excellent question. First off, it's a great song/video (Ric Ocasek is seen walking on water in a pool... in a gaudy blazer... 'nuff said). And secondly, rumour doesn't have it that Alex de Renzy got the inspiration to make Babyface 2 after seeing the video on MTV. Oh, the reason I didn't said, "rumour doesn't have it," instead of the usual "rumour has it," is because I just made it up. That being said, this film's main theme does sort of sound like "Magic" by The Cars.

 
Picking up Lois, his cheerleading girlfriend in his white Trans Am, Kevin takes her to a shed (the owner of this shed is never revealed... maybe we'll learn his or her identity in Babyface 3??? ...whenever de Renzy gets his probably senile ass around to making it), so they have standard heterosexual sex in private. Now, while fucking in a shed isn't exactly commonplace, it's easily the most normal sex scene in the movie.
  

Of course, since the scene features Lois Ayres, I couldn't help but be drawn to Lois' hair and makeup. And laugh when Kevin James takes off his sneakers (Velcro!)

I did notice the garden tools hanging on the wall of the shed. As they fornicated, I kept imagining Lois and Kevin being brutally murdered with that giant tree pruner.

In what has to be one of the most romantic things ever, Kevin offers to use his sock to clean the physical representation of his orgasm off Lois' back.
 

She doesn't want his twitching seed slowly dying on her back as the rest of the day progresses, so he wipes away his sticky discharge with one of his socks. And they say chivalry is dead.

After we're done at the mystery shed, we're quickly whisked to Careena Collins' bachelorette party.

  
Everyone is there, Lois Ayres (sex toy enthusiast), Taija Rae (lingerie whore), Stacey Donovan (the world's biggest Skinny Puppy fan), Kristara Barrington (cock-starved shill for fruit flavoured lube), Lynn Francis (calamari!!!!! - my epic cunt smells like a dirty dish rag), and, of course, Careena Collins (her screams will be forever muffled by Jamie Gillis' filthy boxer shorts).

They play with sex toys, they giggle uncontrollably, they try on lingerie, they watch porno tapes, they... do a shitload of girly ass shit. It's fucking awesome.   

It's not a bachelorette party without a male stripper... Enter... Jamie Gillis. Like I said earlier, greatest entrance of all-time... hands down.

 
Drunk, dishevelled and drunk (Booger from Revenge of the Nerds/Bluto from Animal House), Jamie Gillis dances erotically for the chicks for a pretty long time. Wanting more, the ladies demand to see some skin. Give them a "proper show," as one of them puts it. Warning the women that they will be overcome with lust if he gets hard, Jamie Gillis unfurls his dirty, dry piss-covered erection... and, yeah... all hell breaks loose (clench your crevices, kids).  

The woman are, just like Jamie Gillis said they would be, overcome with lust, and start demanding cock.
  

 
Luckily for the women, a bunch of guys (and their cocks) do show up (including Tom Byron and Dick Rambone... Jesus), and the orgy to end all orgies breaks out.

Is the orgy scene exhausting? You bet it is. Did it cause me to think about how ridiculous the universe is when you get right down to it? How the fuck should I know? I was drunk on cloudy pickle brine when I watched this. However, you have got to admire a film that boasts an extensive orgy scene while a wind machine blasts the whole time. Think about it. Filming an orgy sounds like a logistical nightmare. Add the fact that the whole thing is done with a wind machine set on high, and you've got a potential disaster on your hands. While I'm sure the shooting of this sequence was difficult, the end result is nothing short of brilliant. Even if you have zero interest in watching 1980s drug addicts fuck on film, you have got to admire the execution. I mean, this is art.

  
It took me eight years to get around to watching Babyface 2. It was recommended to me by a blogger named "Gore Gore Girl." And I promised her that I would watch and review it someday. Um, sorry for taking so long. In my defense, I was waiting for a company like, Vinegar Syndrome, to put out a remastered, uncut version, and, yeah... the film looks amazing. It's a masterpiece.

Just realized it's the ten year anniversary of HOSI. Wait. Ten years?!? That's some fucked up shit right there.

Secret Mistress (Lasse Braun, 1986)

Shot on video, yet filmed in New York City, Lasse Braun's Secret Mistress is a bit of an odd bird for those very reasons. On the one hand, the use of videotape instead of film gives the entire production the look and feel of a cheap home movie (the blurry transitions look eerily similar to something you might see used in that haphazardly put together AV club-orchestrated highlight reel celebrating your high school football team's first winning season in fifty years). However, like I said, it's filmed in New York City; during the restoration of the Statue of Liberty, 1984–86 (you can clearly see the scaffolding covering Lady Liberty in one scene). What I'm trying to say is, while the film itself looks like crap, the location is to die for. Unfortunately, other than some quick establishing shots that boast the world's most famous skyline and some short scenes that take place near the Brooklyn Bridge, Lasse Braun doesn't really take advantage of its iconic local . That being said, I don't think that many people, other than me, of course, will protest too loudly, as their main concern is to be aroused/titillated. And if that's the only criteria you need to enjoy pornography, you should have no trouble whatever getting into the sex-adjacent shenanigans a socially awkward writer gets into over the course of this sex-filled romp.

Since I'm not your typical smut enthusiast, you might be thinking to yourself: Why am I writing about this particular piece of pornography?

The first thing that caught my eye was that it takes place in New York City. What can I say? I'll watch anything, especially if its pornographic in nature, that is set in The Big Apple during the 1980s. And the last time I checked, 1986 is definitely in the '80s.

The second thing that peaked my interest was that it's written, directed and edited by Lasse Braun. Impressed by his film, Body Love (1977), I was curious to see if his talent as a filmmaker was able to flourish in the artistic no-man's land that was shot-on-video pornography.

The third thing, the one that caused my pupils to percolate pure positivity, was the pulsating presence of the one and only Taija Rae. Oh, who am I kidding? Seeing Taija Rae's name in the credits was the only reason I bothered to watch this movie.

Not quite at the height of her shapeliness (believe it or not, she's even shapelier in 1985), Taija Rae's mouth-watering curves are still a force to be reckoned with, as her thick and hearty frame can be seen stomping around in a pair of skanky red pumps in one of the film's best scenes.

It's funny, changing gears for a second, but the female singer belting out the film's theme song sometimes sounds like she's saying, "desperately seeking Susan." While other times she sounds like she's saying, "naturally seeking Susan." Given my inability to decipher song lyrics, she's probably saying neither.

Anyway, after the song is finished, we enter the apartment of Steven (Robert Bullock), a writer of some kind. Actually, judging by the size of his apartment (it has a sauna), I would say he's a successful writer.

In fact, he's so successful, he has Ludmilla (Stacey Donovan), a lanky blonde, trying on lingerie for him in his apartment as we speak.

Hired by a lingerie company to model their product for special clients, Ludmilla tries on a number of different pieces in the film's opening scene.

The first one is a red bra and red panties combo with matching frilly gloves.

The second one is a burgundy top with straps (Steven really seemed to like this piece).

The third one, which, according to Ludmilla, is made from 100% Italian silk, is a blue bra and a blue and white thong.

Annoyed by Ludmilla's constant yammering (she insists on describing each piece to him in intricate detail) Steven tells her to shut the fuck up.

Just kidding. Steven doesn't tell Ludmilla to "shut the fuck up." Don't get me wrong, he tells her to be quiet. It's just that Steven, despite being a New Yorker, is way too polite and way too mild mannered to actually say that to someone.

At any rate, I wonder who he's buying all this lingerie for. It can't be for himself, can it? Hold on, I think we're about to find out. Appearing on his couch out of thin air is Eric (Rod Retta), Steven's brother. Asking him why he didn't try to copulate with Ludmilla, Eric stares at his brother with a look of disbelief on his face (in his mind, his brother had a half-naked lingerie model in his home and didn't once try to put the moves on her). Annoyed by the question, Steven shoots back at him that he's in love with Susan. Oh, okay, that makes sense. She's probably the Susan from the film's theme song.

Susan or not, Eric stills thinks Steven dropped the ball big time. And to prove he did, Eric makes Steven watch as he has sex with Ludmilla (who, like Eric, seems to appear out of thin air) on his fancy couch with his unspectacular cock. But not before telling Ludmilla to "show your ass to my brother."

Later that evening, Steven hears his doorbell ring. Looking through the peephole, Steven sees two new wave goddesses standing in the hallway. Letting them in, Annette (Taija Rae), who seems to know Steven, explains that she lost her keys (she lives in Steven's building), and asks him if she and her drunk friend, Gloria (Scarlett Fever), can hang out for awhile until her father comes home.

Agreeing to let them stay, Annette, who is wearing a black lace leotard, a tight red skirt, one fishnet opera glove, a funky black belt, fishnet stockings and red pumps, goes over to the couch and sits down.

As Annette leafs through a copy of Playboy (the issue that featured nude pics of Madonna), Gloria, who is wearing a pink mesh top over a pink bra, one black fingerless opera glove with pink tutu-esque ruffles, a white skirt, pink knee-high stockings, black pumps, and about a half a dozen bracelets (on the non-armwear arm), finds some panties stuffed underneath a couch cushion.

Grabbing a pair of black panties, Gloria stands up, removes her orange(!) panties and slips the black one's on.

Check out the part where Annette scolds Gloria for putting on panties that are clearly not hers. I mean, the way she says, "Gloria!" in her thick Philly-New York accent was beyond glorious (no pun intended).

When Ralph (Ashley Moore), Annette's father, Liza (Colleen Brennan), Steven's neighbour, come over, Annette and Gloria leave with them. However, just like the scene with Ludmilla and Eric, Ralph appears out of thin air to ridicule Steven for not taking advantage of Gloria, who verbally expresses the desire to fuck Steven twice during her brief stay.

Pretty soon, Gloria and Annette appear out of then air as well. Refusing to have sex with Gloria, Ralph decides to dine Gloria's blonde pussy essence instead.

As Gloria is blowing Ralph, you'll notice that her mesh headband contains the colours red, salmon, yellow and lime green.

One thing leads to another, and Annette and Gloria end up lezzing out on one of Steven's many ornate sofas. Even though he says she's not really his daughter, the sight of Ralph having sex with Annette was... not that disturbing at all; I didn't buy for a second that they were related.

I have to admit, my interest in Secret Mistress plummeted to a record low after Taija Rae and Scarlett Fever leave Steven's apartment. It's true, we do learn the identity of Susan and Kristata Barrington and Siobhan Hunter play a couple of typists. But nothing comes close to topping the sight of Taija and Scarlett in their sexy new wave duds.

Struggling to remain invested in the film's "plot," I started to regret the decision to watch it all the way to the end. I did eventually finish it, but at what cost? I think the lesson is this: Be wary of pornographic movies made after 1985. You might stumble across a few gems here and there, but bulk of the product is mediocre at best.