Davian_X
Iscritto in data gen 2006
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Recensioni278
Valutazione di Davian_X
Unambitious in the extreme in terms of plot, TEENAGE COUSINS is theoretically little to write home about; thankfully, the filmmakers still seem concerned with making it interesting, demonstrating how much difference a little care makes in terms of churning out anonymous one-day wonders.
Reminding me of Richard Mailer's similarly slapdash INNOCENT GIRL, which I had the non-excitement of watching recently, COUSINS concerns a similar set-up: big city girl's cousin Helen has come to visit from out of town, but gets sidelined upon arrival, ending up in the apartment of smooth-talker Rudy, who's more than willing to take advantage of her naivete to gain an easy lay. With Helen ending up loving it, she beds down there, continuing to ball Rudy and, eventually, his landlord, Mr. Goldfarb (Bobby Astyr, once again leaning heavily into schtick and playing an *extremely* exaggerated stereotype). When Helen finally stops screwing around long enough to call her sister, she and her handsome boyfriend George rush over to collect her, instigating a sexual free-for-all for everyone.
Impressively, COUSINS actually has even *less* plot than the aforementioned Mailer film, which ended up with its naïve newcomer sidelined into a prostitution ring. Here, nothing really happens: Helen just comes to the city and shacks up with a stranger, with the two sharing three repetitive sex scenes in succession (Astyr drops in on the third to liven things up). Cutaways to George and his girlfriend (I didn't catch her name) alternately looking for Helen and having sex add little to the proceedings. What does keep things interesting is some unusually engaged editing, as well as a soundtrack of wall-to-wall '60s and '70s top artists: The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Traffic, The Allman Brothers Band, Focus, The Grateful Dead, and more. Stolen music has always been a secret arrow in the quiver of low-rent '70s porn, and COUSINS shows how to do it right, combining great tunes with solid photography and editing to craft engaging sex scenes that keep the film rolling instead of bogging it down. If you're going to keep your ambitions low, the least you can do is not be boring, and COUSINS manages to pull that off with aplomb, making a silk(ish) purse out of the sow's ear from its non-starter of a story.
Reminding me of Richard Mailer's similarly slapdash INNOCENT GIRL, which I had the non-excitement of watching recently, COUSINS concerns a similar set-up: big city girl's cousin Helen has come to visit from out of town, but gets sidelined upon arrival, ending up in the apartment of smooth-talker Rudy, who's more than willing to take advantage of her naivete to gain an easy lay. With Helen ending up loving it, she beds down there, continuing to ball Rudy and, eventually, his landlord, Mr. Goldfarb (Bobby Astyr, once again leaning heavily into schtick and playing an *extremely* exaggerated stereotype). When Helen finally stops screwing around long enough to call her sister, she and her handsome boyfriend George rush over to collect her, instigating a sexual free-for-all for everyone.
Impressively, COUSINS actually has even *less* plot than the aforementioned Mailer film, which ended up with its naïve newcomer sidelined into a prostitution ring. Here, nothing really happens: Helen just comes to the city and shacks up with a stranger, with the two sharing three repetitive sex scenes in succession (Astyr drops in on the third to liven things up). Cutaways to George and his girlfriend (I didn't catch her name) alternately looking for Helen and having sex add little to the proceedings. What does keep things interesting is some unusually engaged editing, as well as a soundtrack of wall-to-wall '60s and '70s top artists: The Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Traffic, The Allman Brothers Band, Focus, The Grateful Dead, and more. Stolen music has always been a secret arrow in the quiver of low-rent '70s porn, and COUSINS shows how to do it right, combining great tunes with solid photography and editing to craft engaging sex scenes that keep the film rolling instead of bogging it down. If you're going to keep your ambitions low, the least you can do is not be boring, and COUSINS manages to pull that off with aplomb, making a silk(ish) purse out of the sow's ear from its non-starter of a story.
A time-honored theme in vintage sex flicks, losing your virginity gets a slapdash treatment in TEENAGE BIRTHDAY BALL. Miles from the incredible depucellation scene in something like Henri Pachard's BABYLON PINK, this SF sleeper even makes Shaun Costello's similarly tossed-off KATHY'S GRADUATION PRESENT look thrilling by comparison.
Film centers around our protagonist's sweet 16 celebration - characters' legality within the narrative being of far less concern back then than it is today - where she mentions to her friends she's still a virgin (not that she doesn't have some experience, as she demonstrates with a smorgasbord of vibrators in her bedroom). That's all it takes to send the other two, over the course of a scenic, post-dubbed walk along San Francisco's Fisherman's Wharf, conspiring to pick up a trio of guys and rid our heroine of her pesky maidenhead. To perform the job, they select decades-long hardcore mainstay Joey Silvera, THUNDERCRACK! Star Ken Scudder, and the comparatively lesser-known Jeff Lyle. The two more precocious girls attempt to instigate an orgy at our heroine's party (apparently it's birthday *week* around here), but she balks, running out after barely touching her lips to one guy's penis! The men retreat for some R&R at a nearby motel, where they all relax naked in the pool (a familiar location from other SF sex films like THE HEALTH SPA, JANE BOND, THE INVITATION, and LITTLE ANGEL PUSS), before the three girls show up again. Our lead still isn't ready to give up her innocence, but the men decide she's going to accept their birthday gift whether she wants to or not...
Mainly notable only for the rather tasteless note it ends on - not all that shocking for '70s porn, but still the kind of forced coercion scenario that comes off as icky rather than liberating today - there's not much else to write home about regarding TEENAGE BIRTHDAY BALL. No one is given a character to play (if the protagonist or her friends had names, I can hardly remember), and there's no story - just a series of proficient-enough sex scenes strung together until the requisite hour has been reached. Presence of the aforementioned male performers is of marginal interest; the female cast remains largely unknown, and with good cause.
Film centers around our protagonist's sweet 16 celebration - characters' legality within the narrative being of far less concern back then than it is today - where she mentions to her friends she's still a virgin (not that she doesn't have some experience, as she demonstrates with a smorgasbord of vibrators in her bedroom). That's all it takes to send the other two, over the course of a scenic, post-dubbed walk along San Francisco's Fisherman's Wharf, conspiring to pick up a trio of guys and rid our heroine of her pesky maidenhead. To perform the job, they select decades-long hardcore mainstay Joey Silvera, THUNDERCRACK! Star Ken Scudder, and the comparatively lesser-known Jeff Lyle. The two more precocious girls attempt to instigate an orgy at our heroine's party (apparently it's birthday *week* around here), but she balks, running out after barely touching her lips to one guy's penis! The men retreat for some R&R at a nearby motel, where they all relax naked in the pool (a familiar location from other SF sex films like THE HEALTH SPA, JANE BOND, THE INVITATION, and LITTLE ANGEL PUSS), before the three girls show up again. Our lead still isn't ready to give up her innocence, but the men decide she's going to accept their birthday gift whether she wants to or not...
Mainly notable only for the rather tasteless note it ends on - not all that shocking for '70s porn, but still the kind of forced coercion scenario that comes off as icky rather than liberating today - there's not much else to write home about regarding TEENAGE BIRTHDAY BALL. No one is given a character to play (if the protagonist or her friends had names, I can hardly remember), and there's no story - just a series of proficient-enough sex scenes strung together until the requisite hour has been reached. Presence of the aforementioned male performers is of marginal interest; the female cast remains largely unknown, and with good cause.