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In the grand tradition of such all time classics of softcore drive in exploitation as Country Hooker, Sassy Sue and Midnight Plowboy comes Pussycat Ranch, a doofy hicksploitation effort that comes complete with a Gram Parsonsesque theme song (check out those lyrics) and none other than future Doris Wishman starlet Samantha Fox, oddly billed here as “introducing…” despite her having appeared in at least 5 films prior…another of which is on this very disc, and from the same director!

This is a definite precursor to the whole Urban Cowboy fad (which it arguably predates by one to two years), uncomfortably mixing the tropes and tunes of down home shitkickin’ types and the smooth urban nightlife vibe of disco.

While a comparatively fetching Fox and a pair of blonde forgettables convince a doofus farmhand to stay on with a struggling family farm by means of sexual favors, the seedy bank manager tries to move in on their property (or dubious “virtues”). All the while, hippiefied backwoods country and bluegrass music blares on the soundtrack.

Smoking hot Arcadia Lake shows up in thigh-high leather go-go boots (sure to be a hit around the farmland of the Dakotas), only to get banged by real life live-in Eric Edwards (as Billy the Kid, yet!) in a farmhand’s neckerchief while some cross between Barry White’s Love Unlimited Orchestra and Alec Constandinos’ Love and Kisses works the funk guitar and string section thing.

What passes for plot threads in one of these things finally tie together when Edwards and his luckless comic relief partner Joey Silvera drop by for a booze-up with the dumb farmhand and after boffing their way through the girls, decide to turn the place into a whorehouse.

O-kay, then!

So sure enough, they manage to pull a multi-thousand dollar spit polish and shine on the old rattletrap, making it look like an Italian-style house of ill repute overnight (with only the sound of a few offscreen handsaws and nary a dollar to their names…)

The place is such a success that even the local sheriff becomes a patron, deputizes Billy the Kid and brings Italian exploitation veteran Robert Kernan by for a quickie. The baddie gets scared off, there’s a hint of a happy ending for the scary old farm boss cum madam (shades of the last episode of Sonny Chiba’s Shadow Warriors…yeesh!)…roll credits.

Next up, though likely first filmed, comes Here Comes the Bride, yet again “introducing” Samantha Fox as the titular newlywed to doofy Italian stallion wannabe David Morris.

Apparently she’s a $2 skank who plays hard to get with Morris, pretending to be a virgin (“You’re very virtuous.  I respect that.”) while entertaining johns two at a time right under his nose.

Yeah, advice to the ladies out there?  If you’re going to be free with your favors and untrue to your man, at least be open and honest about it. Entrapment and lies will only stick you in real life…count on it.

One “fond memory” after another, poor Morris keeps reliving his blue balls and frustration, while Fox recalls the truth of the matter, at one point even leaving the guy to beat off at the drive in while she blows random stranger Joey Silvera (who’s so shocked he asks if she wants $10 or something for her services!)

A bridal shower orgy, a femme to femme tryst, even letting the bellhop munch carpet on their honeymoon…Fox is a one-woman argument against trust in relationships.

Yeah, it’s all some bad Penthouse Forum letter or cheap misogynist joke from your grandpa’s era of Playboy…but she simply comes off as wholly inexcusable here, as good as she looks and as much as she seems to relish the role.

Director John Christopher wasn’t exactly prominent in the industry, having helmed a mere two dozen films over his decade therein, none of which really stand out as recognizable classics of the genre.  That said, he has a decent eye for the prurient stuff, and when the action rolls, he seems unafraid to get right up in there with them.

Not a bad pair of “workaday, but more than acceptable” films of the type, all considered, and Lake, Fox and a few recognizable male stars of the era…not to mention all that “sophisticated” 70’s disco on the soundtrack…make this a decent midlevel indulgence for those so inclined.

Just be prepared to walk away giving your girl the stinkeye after Here Comes the Bride