Hollywood freaked out over lesbians in the late '60s, with hits like THE FOX and fairly pretentious major studio releases including THE KILLING OF SISTER GEORGE signaling a new interest in a genre dating back roughly to MAEDCHEN IN UNIFORM.
Porn films had always used lesbian sex as a staple, but what sets THE KING apart is that it almost resembles the latter-day phenomenon of lesbian porn being made by women for female audiences, a la THE L WORD on cable TV. Statistically, 99.9%-plus of lesbian porn has been made by men for male viewers, so this baby is of academic interest.
The title character is Mickey, a butch plumper with oversize breasts, who keeps other young girls in her stable as lesbian playmates. Shot MOS, the film is burdened by stupid and contradictory femme narration, credited as being spoken by filmmaker Looney Bear. This implies that the director of this and similarly amateurish junkers like THE FILTH SHOP, was a woman, but as is typical in the porn world there's no evidence of who this anonymous filmmaker really was.
Opening credits feature nude torsos of well-built women, all displaying bushes. Full-frontal nudity is de rigeur during the film proper as well.
Besides featuring the unlikely as pin-up for male porn fans Mickey, film is unusual in having a black heroine -this is pre-Pam Grier, pre-LIALEH time. Linda has impressive nipples and is the subject of the first-person narration, basically of the "how I became a lezzie" variety.
Her non-adventures with Mickey and the third member of their threesome, blonde nurse Joan are uneventful, unless Mickey's penchant to whip somebody counts. Magic of voice-over creates events that don't actually occur on-screen, such as a fake visit to Fire Island. Film ends with a strip poker game in which the Kings in the deck are emphasized rather stupidly and a surprise ending that doesn't come off.
It's basically mixed combo porn, lesbian division. A final reel flashback of a threesome involving a guy is completely garbled and inconsistent with the narrator's identity (and blackness), further confusing matters.
Whether this junker had appeal to women rather than men is a moot point, since in 1968 I suspect the only women attending adult theaters to watch it were probably hookers taking a rest between tours of duty. Its overall lack of quality of any sort means it won't be rediscovered as a forerunner of feminist porn anytime soon. Film's tag line, as part of its crypto-poetry voice-over, probably won't help: "Are you a queen or are you a king, or maybe like me, an in-between thing".
