Gorgeous Leslie Bovee decides to chat with her gal pal Georgina Spelvin about how bored she is, admitting to being a blackout-level drunk and, well, pretty much an unashamed whore while polishing her toenails.
The only thing that pushes this beyond standard 70’s fare is that she’s doing this in a seethrough negligee while airing out her snatch in public, with a trio of sleazy gardeners working right nearby.
Perpetual scumbag (and Rene Bond mis-manager/boyfriend) Ric Lutze can’t help but notice and gets ideas, culminating in a gang rape (the other participants being fellow gardeners John Galt and Mike Ranger). Of course, being porn, she actually turns out to like this, inviting them back for a nigh-daily repeat of the experience (!)
After this rather bizarre and insensitive kickoff to the production, we return to Spelvin, whose attempt to tutor a pair of unruly overaged students (Monique Cardin and our old pal Jon Martin) turns weird when the two strip down to their undies and recite Victorian erotica for their French lesson.
The ongoing theme of non-consensual sex continues here at least in terms of dialogue, and despite being brother and sister (or at least live in relatives of the same family and household), Cardin and Martin switch from messing with the easily-convinced Spelvin to each other.
Umm…yeah. O-kay…alrighty, then.
Then secretary Serena cuts off her note-taking session with her Senatorial boss (Turk Lyon) to spend a few minutes diddling herself on the bidet (ooh, how sensual). When her flabby-assed employer busts in for a bit of action, his wife (the Spelvin-vintage Flo from Alice lookalike Lynn Harris, who I kept expecting to howl “SERENA? KISS MY GRITS!”) drops in while he hides underwater in the tub.
Some more perfectly terrible dialogue (courtesy of director Richard Kanter) and horrible even for hardcore acting (courtesy of Lyon) ensues, before they pull out a briefcase full of ridiculous sub-Doc Johnson playtoys, a few of which actually get a tryout.
Well, at least nobody got raped or threatened with it this time…
Then “Coach” John Leslie tries to compare himself to a sketch of Rocky Marciano (while pretending this has something to do with baseball and sporting both a basketball hat and a runner’s tracksuit!) as bucktoothed, kewpie doll faced Lori Blue and chin that’ll poke your eye out-bedecked Dorothy LeMay whine about doing some simple leg stretches. Oh, the athleticism!
Anyway, this goes exactly where you’d expect it to. Again, far kinder and gentler than the first sequence or two, so hey, whatever floats your boat. At least they’re both redheads, that has to count for something…
Finally, Chris Cassidy and a young Richard Pacheco get into a big fight while making out in his schlumpy, dingle-ball adorned 1950 Ford, only to see them far more amenable when he magically gets some money and a Rolls. What a gold digger!
Supposedly, this all has to do with some magic pendant, though I don’t recall seeing it in the posession of anyone during the Spelvin or Serena sequences.
There’s an 18m phone interview with Jon Martin about his time in the San Francisco-based adult film industry, the film looks absolutely gorgeous in its Vinegar Syndrome restoration, and there are a few “name” hardcore actors of the era involved, but about the best this gets in prurient terms comes paradoxically in the film’s most uncomfortable sequence, thanks to the presence of the always stunning Leslie Bovee therein. The rest is…kinda meh.
I can’t actually recommend this one – the dialogue is absurdist, the tone of the first few sequences is mildly to completely nasty (in reverse order of airing), most of the “action” is dull at best and a lot of the ladies involved aren’t exactly smoking hot.
But if you’re a completist collector for films of this genre and vintage or a dedicated fan of Bovee, this may be worth a look – just be sure to check your conscience at the front door.