Blonde Ambition Special Edition

Video*X*Pix, the company that released the definitive DVD of Inside Annie Sprinkle last year, has returned with what can only be considered the definitive DVD of the Amero Brothers' Blonde Ambition, an astonishing porno musical that was originally released in the U.S. in 1981.

I saw it originally at a Detroit area porno palace after reading an extremely positive Hustler review. The mag had given the film its FULLY ERECT rating. In retrospect, I'm not so sure it deserved Hustler's highest accolade, which would usually be an indicator of a film's heat, but it did deserve high marks for its mind-boggling production values (for a porno pic) and filmmaking ambition.

Co-Director John Amero, who supplies a great commentary, cites Gentleman Prefer Blondes as an influence. The film was marketed to those who enjoyed that film AND Deep Throat. Quite a broad audience.

Only a handful of porno feature films have attempted what Blonde Ambition attempted. Bill Osco's Alice in Wonderland (whose DVD I worked on a couple of years ago) shared the Ameros' lofty goals, as did the watershed Opening of Misty Beethoven, Radley Metzger's carnal opus.

As wack material, Blonde Ambition isn't terribly erotic. The sex scenes are standard, though well shot, and the heat between the performers is negligible. The recently deceased Jamie Gillis makes an appearance as the director of a Gone With The Wind porno parody, but he doesn't participate in any sex scenes. According to his commentary, which is well worth a listen, he did spend some quality time beneath the hoop skirts of several actresses between takes.

Despite my reservations about its sex appeal, Blonde Ambition is well worth owning because it's an amazing relic of a time now lost. The film was shot by the notorious Roberta Findlay, whose own porno directing career was many degrees darker than what's on screen here. Director Amero even mentions that Findlay found it difficult working on a porno film where the sex was well lit and the overall tone was bright and fun. Her own porno flicks were dark, dismal excursions into sexual hell (bless her soul!), and couldn't have been more different than this.

R. Bolla, a porno stalwart now better known for his role in Ruggero Deodato's Cannibal Holocaust, has a considerable role in the film and receives a complimentary blow job, as does porno veteran Eric Edwards, an actor who'd appeared in other Amero flicks. Both men had off-Broadway credits prior to the making of this film.

Of special note here is cute Benny Hill Show actress Suzy Mandel, who appears in various hardcore sequences.

Thanks to John Amero's clever cutting of her scenes, her non-participation in the film's actual hardcore comes as a surprise. Contractually, she was not obliged to perform hardcore. Amero, on the other hand, was free to blend footage of her porno double as he saw fit.

There are interesting bits and pieces to look out for here. The name on top of a sign for Miracle Pictures, 'Ben Dover', refers to a character who makes a brief appearance. I can't help speculate that British porno director Ben Dover was inspired by this film when it played (in R-rated form) at London's Prince Charles Theatre near Leicester Square. The film was financed by a Swedish exhibitor of blue movies, Kjell Nilsson, for the paltry sum of $30K. It looks like half a million at least, and that's acknowledging favors extended to the production. Thankfully, it made its money back quickly, and was sold worldwide in three different versions.

Video*X*Pix's treatment of the film is a loving one. Although the commentaries are excellent, I wish they'd been recorded and mixed with more love. The British interviewer of John Amero (who sounds a lot like Severin Films' David Gregory, though it might not be) is difficult to hear at times, although he should be applauded for asking all the right questions. Ironically, the sound level on Amero is much too high. The Jamie Gillis "tribute" on the set's second disk is a compilation of scenes featuring Jamie from films such as William Lustig's Violation of Claudia and Chuck Vincent's Roommates.

A small booklet of liner notes and history of the production is also included, as is a film strip of frames from the movie.

Overall, this is an excellent package, and a fine celebration of talented filmmakers, real filmmakers, who cared about the genre they were working in.

It's a testament to their ambitions that Blonde Ambition has earned such prestige treatment thirty years after it was shot.

How To Launch A Coffin Boner

Are the dead horny? Do they lie in their coffins thinking about sex? Do they masturbate with skeletal fists, and shoot dust instead of semen?

In the darkness of a coffin, inspiration is scarce. A bug tapping on your casket from above is unlikely to generate wood. A worm crawling into your eyeball is not comparable to a Hustler Scratch-'N'Sniff centerfold.

So what do dead perverts do for kicks when nights are cold and mumbled obscenities are met with silence?

My thoughts turn to Russ Meyer today. I read his biography, Big Bosoms and Square Jaws (by Jimmy McDonough) a couple of months ago. It's a splendid portrait of the man, a true original, a magnificent filmmaker, and, in his final years, a victim of greedy, ignorant fuckers who exploited his deteriorating mental state and wealth.

Now, having spent almost six years lying face-up in a coffin in Stockton, California, Russ deserves some inspiration, a gift, a carnal trinket that will ease the pain of subterranean imprisonment, and restore the old urges that charged 27 terrific features.

That gift is the Dark Sky dvd of John Peyser's The Centerfold Girls, a classic chunk of exploitation that serves up an entree of violence and sleaze with a literal dessert of tits.

This '74 effort from producer Arthur (The Candy Snatchers) Marks stars the scary Andrew Prine as a knife wielding sicko who is erasing "dirty girls" who dare to parade their nude bodies in lewd magazines. Like a classical nutjob, Prine (as 'Clement Dunne') tracks down a bunch of centerfold cuties from a particular magazine, Bachelor, kills them, then returns home to cut out their faces from the magazine.

The film's structure is interesting in that there are three distinct stories focusing on the stalking and butchering of various women. The common thread in these stories is Clement Dunne. It's not entirely believable that he manages to locate each girl, but since logic is not this film's strong suit, such concerns are quickly swept to the side.

Of all the American exploitation pieces of I have seen from this period, this comes closest to the feel of a Japanese pink film. Much of it reminded me of Yasuharu Hasebe flicks such as Assault Jack The Ripper. It's certainly not as powerful or competent as that film, but the carefree use of nudity and relentless focus on deviant sexuality felt very Japanese.

Now to why this film could possibly launch a coffin boner for Russ, RIP.

Director Peyser and producer Marks take every opportunity to get their actresses topless. Breasts burst like rabbits from every frame and tops are flung off with riot-like frenzy by the lovely female thespians (and lespians). In one scene, a girl removes her top twice, dresses twice, then removes it again. Why? Because audiences demand it! No woman escapes here without flashing her proverbial assets.
Down in his common law coffin, hand on boner, Russ Meyer would be in his element with this flick. Although the breasts on display are not Russ-approved in terms of size, the master breastmeister would surely approve of the gleeful surrendering to upper body exposure these fine ladies embrace.

As a sleazy thriller, the flick has style and spirit. Mostly mean spirit. Some of the women are really roughed up, and the harsh words bellowed at them by the killer are not suitable for children -- not even most adult children.

Serial killer flicks were not commonplace in '74, so The Centerfold Girls stands as a pioneer in this genre.

Sex, violence, obscene language, more sex, and serial breast exposure -- these are a few of my favorite things... and they're the makings of a raging coffin boner.

Porn Snapshot '87

As Microsoft released Windows 2.0, Rudolph Hess was found dead in prison, and evangelist/anti-porn campaigner Jim Bakker was defrocked for mingling spit within his flock.

More importantly, ace New York porn director Cecil Howard rushed out Snake Eyes 2. He was on a dream run after Neon Nights, Platinum Paradise, Scoundrels, Foxtrot, and Dangerous Stuff.

His Command Video was one of the first companies to do simultaneous theatrical/video releases.

Today, his work from the period seems even more extraordinary.


Between '79 and '89, I bought every issue of Hustler. For girls, adult film reviews, and outrageous humor, it had no equal. And thanks to Larry Flynt's Fuck you! attitude, it also boasted some of the most courageous journalism you could find anywhere.

These Dwaine Tinsley cartoons (from the June '87 issue) typified the cartoonist's amazing output, and Tinsley's work personified Hustler's unique take on America.

For mine, Adult Cinema Review was the Smut Bible, as opposed to the Adult Film Bible . It was an attitude thing. I don't know what printing process publisher Anthony Malle employed, but it made everything in the mag look so smutty, dirty, and sleazy, and that's why the mag was so perfect.

Just check out this great still from Guillermo Brown's Nasty Habits ('87). You can't get filthier than this. You can practically smell the act -- and the public bathroom setting.

Most of the films ACR covered were shot on film, of course, so that helped the mag to achieve the perfect visual marriage of sex, steam, sleaze, and rampant sluttery.

No points for guessing this pic is from a Bruce Seven epic.

The '87 Aerobics Girls Club was an early entry in an emerging genre (gonzo), but was pretty typical for the late Seven himself.

Once again, the magazine's color processes dirtied up every hole and fold (in a good way).

Starlets Erica Boyer, Tammy Lee curtis, Bionca, Barbara Dare, Sharon Mitchell, Cara Lott, and Lois Ayres kissed and caressed up a storm in this modest effort.

Reviewer Kitty Day got her knickers in a knot when reviewing this for ACR and lamented the lack of penises.

It was a lezbo gangbang tape for Chrissakes, Kitty! (where ever you are today)

"I suppose that certain born-again male-hating feminists might love this kind of thing, and might even find this tape amusing," she wrote. "But I have to ask myself what kind of woman would be watching this tape in the first place, so I'm left with the feeling that the makers just plain blew it."

WHAT???

The market for these tapes was men, Darling. Feminists and healthy hetero ladies weren't encouraged to apply.

Hopefully, Kitty got herself a new day job as a fluffer.

VCA (Video Company of America) really knew how to market Greg Dark's surreal porn ventures -- by steering around their surreal aspects and focusing on the heat. God knows what the Raincoat Brigade made of Dark's work, but I'm sure they didn't mind the pornographic perfection that spilled all over the screen.

The Devil in Miss Jones III and IV remain watershed works. They followed on the hot heals of Dark's New Wave Hookers, Let Me Tell Ya 'Bout White Chicks, Black Throat, and Between the Cheeks.

Dark directed the horror pic See No Evil in 2006 and is responsible for a long pearl necklace of Britney Spears clips.

His X-rated work was incredible then, and is extraordinary now, especially in light of what the competition was doing.

Enter The Economic Realities of The Twilight Zone

I stumbled upon the first issue of this long defunct magazine in Detroit in '81. Its Editorial Director was T.E.D. Klein and its Associate Publisher was Carol Serling, Rod's widow.

I wrote to Mr. Klein to congratulate him on the launch of the mag and wish him well. He sent a kind note back and we exchanged several notes over the following couple of years.

I liked the mag a lot. The first issue's interview with Stephen King was by Charles L. Grant, a solid horror writer of the "quiet horror" persuasion, and a giant of the genre in his own right.

"Grail", the Ellison story, was a terrific way to kick things off. Ellison rarely disappoints.

I loved the mag. I never missed an issue.

At the time, I was regularly buying Fangoria, Famous Monsters of Filmland, Starlog, Hustler, Adult Cinema Review, Adam Film World, The Writer, Continental Films, Films and Filming, American Cinematographer, National Geographic, The New Yorker, Starburst, American Film, Film Comment, Lotus, and Doll Collector.

At least half of those are still kicking.

Starlog ceased publication quite recently, but has on-line dreams.

Speaking of Hustler... The cover of the October '86 issue looks suspiciously like an issue of Larry Flynt's flagship mag (minus the boobage). If they'd slapped Hustler or Swank on the masthead, I wouldn't have batted an eyelid.

Clearly, the economy realities of publishing a serious, mass market, quiet horror fiction magazine were hitting Publisher and President S. Edward Orenstein hard.

Perhaps he was eying the readership of mags like Future (from Starlog), Omni, and Bob Guccione's New Look. Any way you looked at it, the mag's newsstand identity was confused.

Inside, however, the content remained consistent.

T.E.D. Klein eventually moved on, and was replaced by Michael Blaine.

Contributing Editor Gahan Wilson remained for the journey; his co-Contributing Editor, the great science fiction scribe Theodore Sturgeon (More Than Human, '53), exited the mag (and the planet) due (in all probability) to his exposure to asbestos when he was a young Merchant Marine.

And speaking of Sturgeon... from the late 70's to the early 80's, he was on Larry Flynt's payroll, too. He reviewed books and culture for, you guessed it, Hustler.

The mag's last issue was February '89, and its Editor-in-Chief in demise was career editor and author Tappan King.