ThiefHott Too much of everything

Infamousta brilliant actors, brilliant editing

InformationRap This is one of the few movies I've ever seen where the whole audience broke into spontaneous, loud applause a third of the way in.

Darin One of the film's great tricks is that, for a time, you think it will go down a rabbit hole of unrealistic glorification.

Woodyanders Cruel crippled wacko Spencer (a superbly slimy portrayal by writer/director Michael Findlay) gets women through want ads in an underground newspaper to come to his remote palatial abode and perform strange sex shows for him. Spencer meets his match in the shapely form of shameless exhibitionist Maria (gorgeous blonde Uta Erickson), who becomes quite paranoid and homicidal after Spencer's bitter assistant Bruno (nicely played with seething resentment by Earl Hindman) injects her with a tainted aphrodisiac. Findlay certainly gives the viewer their grubby money's worth with this exceptionally depraved dilly: There's abundant full-frontal female nudity (60's skinflick regulars Donna Stone, Janet Banzet, Suzzan Landau, and Rita Vance all look quite sumptuous romping about in their birthday suits), lesbianism, voyeurism, wild nude dancing, torture, sadism, murder, copious use of whipped cream (don't ask), foot fetishism, sex with a corn cob (!), choice footage of Times Square in its seedy 60's splendor, and one doozy of a surprise twist ending. Roberta Findlay's stark black and white cinematography boasts some pretty trippy visuals and inventive camera angles. Earl Windmin's groovy bebop jazz score hits the swinging spot. A deliciously warped marvel.

chesterbosco This dreadful film has some of the worst dialog replacement I've ever heard. In fact, I don't think any sound was recorded during the filming. The oddest thing, and if the movie had been seen by more than a few pervs it might have cost the producer some money, is the fact that at 1:09:35 the music is Miklos Rozsa's "Rowing of the Galley Slaves" from the MGM "Ben-Hur" album. I sincerely doubt that the producer licensed the use of Oscar winning music for this awful movie.Most of the cast used pseudonyms in the credits, and it's completely understandable why. The producer/writer/director and his wife used pseudonyms as well. Maybe they got famous later and this film wouldn't be a scab on their mutual resumes. Bad as it is, I couldn't stop watching it until its eagerly awaited end.

lastliberal Now, this is the first sexploitation/grindhouse film that I thought worth paying money to see.I can imagine a whole theater full of men in white overcoats getting a thrill from this feature which had full frontal throughout the entire 70 minutes.Nude dancing and lesbian activity would have thrilled them for the first 60 minutes, then the film, which had a noir overtone, turned darker with sadistic encounters and even death.This is the best Michael Findlay sexploitation film I have seen, and it certainly beats his video nasty Snuff.

christopher-underwood Starts out as if this is going to be one of Findlay's better efforts and certainly the performances are bright enough and the voice over/lip sync works well enough, this just loses it about two thirds through. I don't know whether it was the umpteenth use of whipped cream or the over enthusiastic use of corn on the cob, but after being fairly well paced and well shot with decent sexy action, this treads water as if everyone had run out of ideas or possibly a certain someone had a penchant for the aforementioned activities and wanted nothing else. It's a shame because the first use of the cream being spurted over the nude psychedelic dancers is most effective as was the initial dealings with the phallic vegetable. Lots of oddities and some really good moments just spoiled by the over indulgent final quarter or so.