The Devil's Garden

Pioneer pornographer Bob Chinn, best known for his John Holmes/"Johnny Wadd' X-rated superdick series, went to Jamaica to make this weird sex-horror opus. And I mean weird. The film starts with a girl escaping in a car from an unknown assailant and recounting her strange tale to the local police: her filmmaker husband had disappeared while scouting locations, and she had followed him to Jamaica as the guest of the rich and mysterious St Jermaine and his partner Chang (played by the longhaired oriental Chinn himself). She is drugged and forced to act as sex slave for the lascivious desires of the mansion's strange inhabitants, then is convinced afterwards she had dreamt the entire sordid affair. The police think she's screwy or on heat, so she heads to a voodoo ceremony in the hills to uncover her husband's horrifying fate - or does she? Inept on every level, the film is compulsively watchable thanks to ex-film school graduate Chinn, an enthusiastic hamfisted auteur who actually tries to make a movie instead of a flimsily constructed series of sex scenes. The music's weird, the sex is weird (St Jermaine wears a Balinese mask and screams like a monkey with its behind on fire) and the film is filled with flashbacks and flashbacks within flashbacks. For us connoisseurs of the smutty, the inane and the truly insane, it's a pathologically watchable treat.

This is as low as you can get. There are a couple of scenes, not at all related to each other slammed together. Probably dug up from someone's trash can. And I don't believe it at all that these scenes were all made by the makers of this movie. Some scenes have different colours, most scenes are soft core, but towards the end suddenly a hard core scene is shown. There is no story. No wonder if you take scenes from various movies and put them together.

Actually this is not a movie, but just some scenes found somewhere and put on a reel till it was filled. There is no standard low enough for this ogre. Even for the 70's when low was really low...

Avoid this movie like the plague, for every minute spent on this one is lost, forever.

Except for one DAMN good lesbian sex scene involving Miss Carey and the gal with short black curly hair (whoever) this one is a pretty passable affair, as far as early '70s semi-porn is concerned. OK - there's that toe-sucking scene. That's pretty good. Carey crawls buck-naked across the floor and gives oral pedicure to... uh... one of the guys. Whoever. Anyway, you don't see that every day. At least - not in my rumpus room. But all this positive diversion is shot right in the crack of the ass by jarring editing, wobbly camera-work and an actor named "John Paul Jones," who orgasmo-squeals with grating enthusiasm and has the worst British accent this side of Natalie Portman. It's somewhat entertaining, though, to watch Miss Carey's appearance vary from scene to scene: At one point she's downright cute, and, a few minutes later, she's about as ragged out and scaly as a Brentwood hag after a night of Johnny Walker Black, cartons of Chesterfields and a whoooole lotta bone-smokin'. And this was early in Miss Carey's career, too. Chew on that! One big plus: This was made by professional porn pioneer (pronographer? pionographer?) Bob Chinn, who was to tits and gonads what Madame Curie was to the atom bomb. See it... and explode in ecstasy!