In Hot Blood

Here's another anti-erotic, sleazy East-coast "roughie" from the mid-60s. A voluptuous Asian-American girl seeks a gig as a photographer's model in Manhattan. She's already resigned herself to the fact that the photo sessions are little more than excuses for perverse, drug-infused orgies. When one stoned model becomes abusive, our protagonist and another girl (who's afraid of needles) are forced to knock her unconscious. The pair flee to an apartment for more fun and games, while the whacked-out one plots revenge (luckily, she keeps a handy meat cleaver in her purse!). Mayhem ensues.

The girls are all rather butch and ill-groomed, featuring the usual assortment of scars and other physical flaws; while, for symmetry's sake, the boys all seem quite fey. There's plenty of topless and backside nudity, but everyone keeps his/her underpants on for the down and dirty stuff. S&M, fruit fetishes, high-heel caressing, and other offbeat practices are the order of the day.

What's most remarkable about the picture is that it seems so obviously to be the work of that maestro of sleaze, Michael Findlay, though there's no attestation to this fact in any reference sources. I'm sure it's his NY-accented voice as the narrator (there's no live sound, just funky jazz library cues which often run out mid-scene). The existential, beat-inspired poetic musings are unmistakeably his. The shadowy photography, occasional bizarre camera angles, oddball sex, and especially the unwarranted violent conclusion, all smack of his genius. If this isn't enough to convince the amateur sleuth, the opening credits are presented in the exact same style as in his "Flesh" trilogy -- they're scrawled on nude bodies with lipstick or a grease pen. And one of the main characters is named Roberta (not played by his wife, though).

The director credited on screen is one "Leo J. Rhrednal", supposedly a palindromic pseudonym for Joel Landwehr. Now that Mr. Landwehr's other credited picture, "Fluctuations", is out on DVD, maybe the true story will come out.

I think this will be it for the exploration to see what played in Times Square grindhouse in the sixties.

This is perfect grindhouse fare. The drug-induced orgies that are part and parcel of the photographers and models who seek pleasure in whatever form. It's all her for those who enjoy boobies and asses and fruit fetishism (Oh! what that girl did with a banana!) and a little S&M thrown in for the folks that get off on that.

All comes to a crashing end as one model turns on two others with a meat cleaver. Did she pick that up at the store on the way or does she carry it around in her purse?

No dialog, except for the narrator; this was just pure bodies in motion for your enjoyment.