Showing posts with label Wendy Wasserstein. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wendy Wasserstein. Show all posts

Friday, January 16, 2009

Party Doll A Go-Go! (Rinse Dream, 1991)

The prospect of watching people vigorously collide with one another in a veiled attempt to uncork fluid has never appealed to me. I mean, unless these fluids are going to be used by two married individuals in order to manufacture a baby in the near future, I don't want any part of it. Seriously, the idea of my precious eyeballs devouring the indecent image of strangers jabbing at each other with their respective holes makes my skin crawl. However, if the impeccably brained Rinse Dream (a.k.a. Stephen Sayadian) is in charge of the filming the fornication of fancy-free fissure sniffers in a gaudy environment, then my liquid paper/personality/inner Men Without Hats groupie would gladly allow itself to be corrupted by this strangely erotic display. This earth-born figure, a director who helped reinvent on-screen intercourse with the surreal Nightdreams and the post-apocalyptic Café Flesh, attacks our sexual synapses yet again with the wonderfully loquacious Party Doll A Go-Go!, a nonsensical ode to repetitious yakety-yak, neon lingerie, and that special kind of tingle. Moving from one act of tender copulation to another with the speed of a goofy yogurt salesmen, the debased production feverishly splices stream of consciousness dialogue with scenes of customary and uncustomary penetration. The forcible ejection of semen is a standard indicator as to when a scene is over, yet there's a free flowing, almost tongue-in-cheek attitude when it comes to structure. Ignoring the normal constructs that constitute your standard fuck film, Rinse Dream hates your erection, thinks your moist undercarriage is stupid, and has no interest in soothing your loneliness. It's obvious that he despises couch-based pornography, as the wacky words being uttered and the abstract pelvic thrusting are constantly at odds with one another.

The first scene has the bubbly Madison and the forthright Tianna double-teaming Tom Byron's already unfurled penis on a bed made out of what looks to be chains and barbed wire. Well, actually, Tianna spends most of her time mock consuming the thankfully nonexistent contents of Madison's attractive asshole (I've memorized every groove and every contour of her delicious anus). At first, I was a little put off by this display (it appeared unseemly and a tad uncouth), but the more she lapped it up, the more appealing it became.

Spouting the ridiculous dialogue with a surprising amount of flair and a giddy brand of self-possession, Madison and Tianna make a terrific pair of gyrating tart-bunnies. I loved Madison's enthusiasm when it came to tilting her head and spewing nonsensical gobbly-gook, and Tianna's perfectly round backside and coital mantra, "Ride that stranger like a rocket 88," had me reaching for my head medicine.


Scene number two involves the aptly named Raven and a wide-eyed Nikki Wilde tasting each other's clitorises for a solid ten minutes. Since this is a so-called girl-on-girl scene, the editing is a little more subdued. Boasting the cool audio art by Double Vision , which throbs effectively on the soundtrack (it's a delightful mishmash of surf rock and new wave), the scene also features Madison and Tianna, who appear sporadically to interject the proceedings with whimsy and verve.

Oh, and don't be alarmed by the fact that Miss Wilde says "girl homo" every once and awhile; it's her thing. Anyway, call me crazy, but the manner in which Raven dined on Nikki's young lady speckle reminded me of a neglected soup tin lid. Hear me out, finally getting the mouth-based attention it so justly deserves, the lid moans seductively in response to each forceful lick. (In case there's any confusion, I'm referring to the side of the lid that's been living a solitary existence in the dark ever since the consommé was consummated.)

A redheaded Patricia Kennedy, who is "hotter than a Kansas City barbeque," brings a significant quantity of supple resplendence to Party Doll A Go-Go! with her brave portrayal of a youngish woman who gets properly poked and prodded on a weird-looking mattress. Performing the prodding is Randy Spears, an actor who gets to say various sentences that end with the word "unhinged" over and over again (though, he probably just said it the one time and they put it on a loop). While his member ain't exactly a "spear" (it's more like a vein-covered hammer handle sporting a protective helmet), he nevertheless wields it with an unsubtle grace.

While it's obvious that I have a soft spot for Madison and her animated proclamations, box cover star Jeanna Fine does an ultra-groovy job lashing out at Peter North's temporarily brick-like appendage. I was deeply impressed by how the gorgeous thespian was able to recite the Rinse Dream dialogue in such a brilliantly deadpan fashion. Judging by the way she carried herself in this film, you'd think her main talent was more in tune with the realm of Wendy Wasserstein, not making vein-covered dicks disappear. I'd go into further detail about her oral prowess, but describing acts of a sexual nature make me uncomfortable.

The proceedings go into overdrive when Bionca (attired in yellow opera gloves and bright pink stockings) and Peter North hook up for the final encounter. The editing has an extra hint of kookiness about it, the word "Bosco" is said a lot, and all the random nonsense from the earlier scenes is inserted liberally throughout Bionca and North's straightforward screwing. Culminating in a manner you'd expect, lot's of semen, but there's more going on than that. You see, Party Doll A Go-Go! is subversive cinema at its most frenzied, and unlike most directors in this field, Rinse Dream knows he's languishing in a cesspool. And the fact that he knows this, makes the viewing of his films all the more pleasurable.


video uploaded by partydollagogo
...