The Taming of Rebecca (Phil Prince, 1982)

Nowadays, your average serial killer has to worry about the authorities poking around their hard drives looking for "unseemly" material after they're eventual arrested. But back in the 1980s, the authorities, after they kicked down the serial killer's door, would head straight for suspect's living room and start examining the contents of their VCR. And what do you think they found when they pressed play? That's right, the first thing they typically saw was a deranged George Payne, a.k.a. "The Dean of Discipline," screaming a blistering barrage of insults at a cowering Velvet Summers; who, of course, has a safety pin in their nipple. Hitting the eject button almost immediately, the authorities had just watched a scene from the infamous The Taming of Rebecca, an Avon Production directed by the equally infamous Phil Prince. While the scenario I just described might sound a tad far-fetched, I have read that this film was in fact found in the video cassette recorders of at least two serial killers when they were arrested. Knowing this going in gave the act of watching the film an added layer of danger. Sure, there are literally millions of people out there who watched this film who didn't turn out to be serial killers. But the fact that two did... well, you know, like I said, it gave the film... (An added layer of danger?) Yeah, that. But it gave it a certain cachet, too.

It also didn't hurt that the film itself features dirty anuses, rape caves, pissing on flaccid cocks, pissing on flaccid floors, the music of The Stray Cats, a man with a full head of hair, pussy fisting, father-daughter toilet incest, lightning bolt necklaces, knee socks, hot New York accents, spanking and whipping. I'm sorry, did I just include a man with a full head of hair as one of this film's selling points? Holy crap, I did. Now, granted, there are quite a few wonky selling points in that particular group, but a man with a full head of hair? What was I thinking?

Wait a minute, I just remembered why I included a man with a full head of hair as one of my selling points for this wonderfully fucked up movie. It's because George Payne's hair in The Taming of Rebecca is, with a doubt, the fullest head of a hair I've seen in a motion picture in decades.

I know, watching me go on and on about the hair sitting atop the head of a sadistic lunatic must seem strange, especially when you consider the fact the movie I'm talking about not only boasts a skinny headband-wearing Sharon Mitchell prancing around town in a short tartan skirt, but has a scene where the gorgeous Cheri Champagne sits on a bed with her legs crossed (her creamy thighs mashing against one another with a scintillating smoosh). That being said, don't judge me until you have seen his hair in action. And by "action," I mean, acts of cruelty and degradation.

To see George Payne cause others pain and suffering will bring a tear your eye. Oh, and not because he's forcing a safety pin through your nipple, but because he looks so good while doing so.

Just for the record, he doesn't actually force a safety pin through anyone's nipple in this movie. No, he forces someone else to do it for him. He might be a sick twist, but he ain't no monster.

Believe or not, George Payne's character isn't the only sick twist in this film. After jumping in her daddy's car, Rebecca (Sharon Mitchell) calls Miss Zorda (Stella Stevens), the, I'm gonna say, principal of a local school for sexually abused boys and girls, on a payphone and asks her if she can take refuge there.

When Rebecca arrives... Oh, and before she arrives, we're treated to the theme from Halloween. On top of that, I could have sworn I heard the music of either Cluster or Tangerine Dream as well.  Anyway, when she arrives... Oh, and before she arrives, we're treated to the sight of Sharon Mitchell walking down the street in her school uniform (a tartan skirt and white knee socks!). Yum.

Now, where was I? Ah, yes, when Rebecca arrives at the school, she tells Miss Zorda all about her troubled home life. What the fuck! Would you look how spacious that bathroom is. Mine's the size of a broom closet, yet this sick twist is living it up in a home with a giant bathroom. I mean, look at this guy, he's playing with his genitals on the toilet with his legs extended to their full capacity. In my bathroom, I can't even turn around without knocking over something and this guy's sitting on the toilet like he's Larry Craig. It's not fair.

Tired of playing with himself, Rebecca's daddy (David Christopher) calls for his daughter and tells her that he needs her to make her old man feel good. Hmm, I wonder what he means by that. Standing in the doorway in a pink nightie with white doily-like flourishes around the edges, Rebecca watches in horror as her daddy swings his floppy cock around like a deflated, floppy cock-shaped bag of day-old mucus .

In order to remedy the slack nature of his floppy cock, Rebecca's daddy instructs Rebecca to suck on it for an extended period of time.

After his floppy cock is not even close to being floppy anymore, Rebecca's daddy tells Rebecca to sit on it. Now, you're probably thinking to yourself: How is she supposed to sit on it? It doesn't look comfortable at all. Do you see that patch of hair between Rebecca's legs? Well, inside there is an opening. And believe me, when Rebecca's daddy's super-stiff cock gingerly slides into this opening, the comfort level he's about to experience is going to be insane.

In an unexpected twist, Rebecca's daddy then orders Rebecca to sit on his face. It's unexpected because cunnilingus isn't usually on the menu in these types of situations.

Told to get on all fours, Rebecca's daddy gives Rebecca's ass a good spanking. Oh, and get this, after each smack, Rebecca's daddy demands that she thank him for spanking her.

Finishing things up in the bathtub with some rough doggie-style action, Rebecca's daddy ejaculates a smidgeon of seminal fluid in the general direction of his daughter's face. The end. Oh, wait. It looks like Rebecca's daddy wants Rebecca do something else for him. Leaning back against the wall at the base of the tub, Rebecca's daddy tells Rebecca to, and I quote, "Pee all over my cock, daddy likes that."

A shocked Miss Zorda looks at Rebecca with an air of disgust and disbelief after she finishes giving her a sampling of what life is like at home.

Bringing Rebecca to meet the other "students," who are listening to The Stray Cats in the school's rec room (complete with a pool table and a David Bowie poster), Miss Zorda introduces her to Saundra (Velvet Summers), John (Ron Hudd), Barbara (Cheri Champagne), Bob (Jamie St. James), Cindy (Ambrosia Fox) and Paul (Tony Mansfield).

As the final introductions are being made, guess who walks in the room? Why, it's The Dean of Discipline himself, Dean Minindao (George "Shut the fuck up!!!!" Payne). Oh, man, you thought Rebecca's daddy was a sadistic piece of shit. Honey, you ain't seen nothing yet.

It's when Dean Minindao's secretary, Linda (Niko), is giving him "dictation" in his office that I really started to take notice of George Payne's beautiful mane of thick lustrous hair. What's his secret? Castor oil? Monkey cum? At any rate, the sex scene between Dean Minindao and Linda is actually quite tame as far as sex scenes go. No one yells dehumanizing obscenities at the top of their lungs, no one expels pee on anyone, and no one is related to one another. In other words, yawn. Just kidding, it was kinda refreshing to see two people simply fuck for a change.

"That Minindao... he's such a jerk-off. And Zorda... did you see her in the gym the other day? My god, that woman didn't have any underwear on. She's a real sleaze. She's going to get hers one of these days." And with that line, we're introduced to the gorgeousness that is Cheri Champagne's Barbara. I know, we were introduced to her during the rec room meet and greet, but this is the scene where Cheri Champagne does some of her best work. I mean, the way she says, "jerk-off," with her thick New York accent will cause your toes to curl.

Sitting on the bed in a yellow dress with her legs crossed, Barbara, and her friend, Cindy, start talking, or, I should say, tawking, about "The Cave." When Rebecca hears about "The Cave," a subterranean netherworld where Dean Minindao supposedly carries out more serious acts of punishment, she doesn't believe that it actually exists.

In order to become more enlightened, cave-wise, Rebecca calls in the guys. After briefly discussing The Cave, one of the guys... the one in the aviator shades... wait, two of the guys are wearing aviator shades... The skinny guy in the aviator shades suggests that they have an orgy. Without even giving the suggestion much thought, the gang are taking their clothes off to what sounds like Suicide.

Hopping to her feet, Barbara pulls her yellow dress off with quick hiking motion utilizing the cross-armed technique. As the dress goes swooshing past her mid-section, you'll notice that Barbara isn't wearing any panties. You know what that means, right? Yep, Barbara is a hypocrite. If you remember, Barbara calls Miss Zorda a sleaze for not wearing panties. And, as Barbara's cross-armed hiking motion just proved, she doesn't either.

Just as the skinny guy in the aviator shades is about to get up to his wrist in Barbara's vagina, Dean Minindao bursts into the room. Busted.

The first feel the brunt of Dean Minindao's wrath is Rebecca, who is whipped ("You like that? No? Good!!!") and raped in his office. But not before the line, "Don't ever stand behind me... ever!!!" is uttered; my personal favourite of his many outbursts. After that, it's John (the muscular guy in the aviator shades) and Saundra's turn, where Dean Minindao forces John to shove a safety pin through Saundra's nipple.

When we finally do enter The Cave, most people will either be too traumatized or too exhausted to carry on (even though the film is barely an hour long). However, the too outre for words performance given by George Payne is the real reason the stick with this movie. Seriously, the improvised bile that comes out of his mouth as he torments his victims is like listening to vile poetry being read by a coked up mental patient. "How so??? How so??? Don't fuck with me!!!" Ah, the unpleasantness of it all.

Midnight Heat (Roger Watkins, 1983)

A hitman for the mob sits in a sleazy hotel room and reflects back on all the mistakes he's made over the course of his life. One of the mistakes, no doubt, was that time that he and a large breasted woman stood on a balcony overlooking New York City. I know, that doesn't sound like the kind of thing you might regret one day. Okay, how about this, the woman, whose large breasts have just been fondled by the hitman, initiates oral sex, but he tells her, "I'm not in the mood." After the hitman refused to have his genitals orally massaged by a large breasted woman, one who was wearing a black nightie, no less, I sat there in awe of what the hitman just did. And, no, I wasn't in awe of the hitman's herculean brand of self-control, but because never in all my years of watching sleaze have I seen a man stop a woman–who was in the middle of  implementing her descent to crotch-town, mind you–from performing fellatio on his slumbering member. Anything, whether it be intentional or not, that interrupts the flow of seminal fluid makes me happy. You heard me. Any film that causes the self-abusers in the audience to lose the ability to masturbate in the manner in which they're accustomed is doing something right in my book. And the gritty Midnight Heat is definitely one of those films. You want to make sperm? Grab the Sears catalogue, flip to the pantie section (use the handy index if you have any trouble finding the pantie section, but knowing you, that shouldn't be a problem), stare at the seemingly unending array of pantie-covered undercarriages by employing your eyes (don't bother looking for camel toes, as they have been air-brushed into oblivion), and, well, you know what to do next. However, if you want to watch artful smut with a hint of menace, Roger Watkins (Her Name Was Lisa) is here to provide you with a stimulating alternative.    
 

 

Am I tired of seeing Jamie Gillis' scrotum under constant mouth-based duress? You bet am I. On the other hand, I'm not entirely sure what a "scrotum" is to be honest. It's true, I could look it up. But I think I've past the point in my life where looking up the definition of scrotum is a viable option. Every man comes to what I like to call a "scrotal impasse," and looks like I just hit it. Either way, if you were to show me a picture of Jamie Gillis' scrotum, I could probably identify it without much difficulty.
 

 

Most x-rated movies, or "fuck films" as they're sometimes called, seem only interested in showing you the mechanics of sex. But what if these so-called "mechanics" were accompanied by shots of destitute souls wandering the streets of New York City during a rain storm? How would your raging hard on and/or perspiring clitoris feel about that? I think I can safely say that I bet they would be none to pleased to see their pornography treated that way. Well, you know who doesn't care about you or your poronography? The writer-director of Midnight Heat, that's who; hell, I bet cinematographer Larry Revene doesn't care, either.
 

 

On top of his scrotum, you better get used to the sight of Jamie Gillis staring out a window, as it's where Alan, a hitman for the mob, does his best thinking. And besides, why wouldn't you look out the window? You live in New York City. I mean, the idea of someone watching television in New York City doesn't make sense to me. Anything happening outside in New York City at any given moment, especially in 1983, is a thousand times more interesting than any show on television.
 

 

Opening with Alan sitting by a window, no doubt doing some of that thinking I alluded to earlier, when suddenly, he receives a call about a job. Utilizing a point-of-view camera angle, we find ourselves walking down the hallway of what looks like an office building. Coming to a doorway, a man sitting at a desk asks Alan, "What are you doing here"? Without saying a word, Alan calmly pulls out his gun, points it at the seated man, and shoots him.  
 

 

To celebrate yet another successful hit, Alan heads over to the apartment of his milf-tastic mistress (Dixie Dew), who is smoking a cigarette in an old school lingerie, for a little informal fornication, if you know what I mean. Yeah, we know, they're going to have sex. You know how I implied that all the sex scenes were peppered with these grim shots of authentic New York City street life? Well, this particular sex scene features shots an older gentlemen driving a car. In fact, this "older gentlemen" looks exactly like the guy in the picture that was standing upright on the milf-tastic mistress' vanity–you know, before she turned it face down (I guess she didn't want him looking at her as she brushed her teeth with Jamie Gillis' darkish cock). You mean to say that the guy in the car is the milf-tastic mistress' husband? Yep. And he's coming home.
 

 

What are the odds that the milf-tastic mistress' husband is also Alan's boss? I'd say they're pretty high. And since Alan works for the mob, that would make his boss a "mob boss." Instead of getting angry, the mob boss plants a big wet kiss on Alan's face. It would seem that Alan's days are numbered (he received "Il bacio della morte"). In order to delay his fate, Alan decides to hide out at a cheap hotel.
 

 

As he sits on the chintzy-looking bed, Alan reflects on his past mistakes. Well, I wouldn't call having sex with Tish Ambrose a mistake, exactly. However, when you take in account that Tish is playing Susan, the boss's daughter, the decision to do so seems fraught with more danger than usual. Oh, haven't you heard? Danger is Alan's middle name. It's true, I'm not even sure what his last name is, but I bet his middle one is Danger.
 

 

Anyway, after Tish Ambrose's mobster's daughter uses the word "facetious" in a sentence, Jamie Gillis pulls out his wiener. There's no lingerie in this scene, but Tish's terrific backside and the birthmark on her left breast are both prominently displayed. And she wears whites pumps throughout her encounter with the junk attached to Jamie's scrotum.  
 

 

While flipping through the hotel room's Bible, Alan comes across a flyer for "Mr. C's Escort Agency: "Beautiful People for Friends." And before you know it, Shirley (Joey Karson), a sexy blonde, and Diane (Cheri Champagne), a quiet brunette, are knocking on his door.
 

 

Telling the women that he likes to watch, Shirley and Diane perform the sixty-nine position on his bed. The erratic nature of the seams on the back of Joey Karson's fishnet stockings was the sexiest thing about this particular scene. I also liked Cheri Champagne's red satin garter belt; very classy.
 

 

When they're done, Alan asks Diane to stay. While Shirley protests at first, she eventually agrees to leave Diane, who is relative newcomer to the whoring business, all alone with Alan.
 

 

Proving that "Danger" is in fact his middle name, Alan, while looking out the window, of course, tell Diane that "danger motivates people."
 

 

In another flashback, we see Alan and his wife (Sharon Mitchell, fuck yeah!), sharing a passionate embrace. This so-called "passionate embrace" leads to oral and vaginal sex. The great thing about this scene is the way Sharon Mitchell's nose looks whilst filmed in profile.
 

 

During their post-coital chat, Sharon informs Alan that she is leaving him. Standing by a window, as usual, Alan seems unmoved by what his wife just said, as he basically shrugs his shoulders and says, "Do what you want, I can't stop you."

 

 

Just when you thought the film couldn't get anymore cynical and dark, we hear Alan, again, standing by a window, utter the line, "There's a lot of fucking weirdos out there." Of course, this line is accompanied by some street level shots of New York City that look like they were filmed with a hidden camera. As I watched the "fucking weirdos" shuffle down the street to classical music, I thought to myself: Is this film the most depressing porno ever made?
 

 

The film does nothing to counter its bleak reputation when we see, Diane, who gets her own flashback, waiting for her husband (Michael Bruce) to come home. Wait, that doesn't sound so bleak. Yeah, but the sex they have is not even close to being erotic. In fact, he pretty much treats her like a piece of meat. 
 

 

It would seem that it was a prostitute, played by the alluring Susan Nero, who suggested that Alan join the mob. Now, typically, after Susan Nero tells Alan that the mob is currently hiring, this is the point in the film where Jamie Gillis and Susan Nero begin to have sex. But Midnight Heat seems to shun convention at every turn. Even I was shocked when Susan Nero's pussy didn't get properly poked and prodded. Actually, if you think about it, Alan, as we learned during the scene with Shirley and Diane, has a no-sex rule when it comes to hookers. So, his not having sex with Miss Nero was in keeping with his character's unique temperament. However, that doesn't mean he can't break his own rules, as we'll see during the film's disturbing, and, of course, bleak finale.
 

 

As with all the Roger Watkins/Richard Mahler directed films I've seen so far, I would have loved to have seen the looks on the faces of the movie patrons as they filed out from the 42nd Street theatres that were showing this movie; what a confused lot they must have been.

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