Color, 1975, 72 mins. / Directed by Henry Paris (Radley Metzger) / Starring Darby Lloyd Rains, Levi Richards, Mary Stuart / VCA (US R0 NTSC)


In 1969, a torrid book called Naked Came the Stranger hit the bestseller charts and joined the ranks of tawdry potboilers from the likes of Harold Robbins and Sidney Sheldon. However, the difference here is that the entire book turned out to be a gag; the author, "Penelope Ashe," was a pseudonym concoted by a group of writers for Newsday who each took a turn writing one chapter. Flash forward six years, when veteran softcore director Radley Metzger was looking for a second project to follow up the original story, The Private Afternoons of Pamela Mann, which proved to be his first completely hardcore venture under the name "Henry Paris." Returning to the literary roots of his European erotica films, Metzger latched onto the novelized hoax and tweaked it into another of his urbane, visually stylish studies in the human libido. Fortunately it also turned out to be one of his funniest films, a bubbly and fast-paced trifle that plays like Ernst Lubitsch after a hit of Ecstasy.

Radio hosts and film fanatics Gillian (Darby Lloyd Rains) and William Blake (Levi Richards) enjoy a happy (albeit quirky) marriage, except for one catch-- he's having an affair with Phyllis (Mary Stuart), their toothy assistant. Gillian even eavesdrops on one of their afternoon love sessions (one of the film's comic highlights), and afterwards at a bizarre costume party during which she meets several old acquaintances, the noble wife decides to do a little sexual sampling herself.

Each of Gillian's affairs appropriately divides the film like a book chapter, the most memorable being her encounter with Score's Gerald Grant which cleverly plays out like a silent film. Henry Paris regular Alan Marlow also turns up for a daring, real life sequence in which he's pleasured by Rains on a double decker bus as they take a sunny tour of New York. The story moves quickly, and while the sex scenes are probably the mildest of the Paris canon, they still generate some palpable heat. Rains in particular gets to finally break loose in a leading role and proves herself to be a delightful comedienne, often looking quizically at the camera for maximum effect.

VCA's previous Henry Paris titles have been at least as complete as their VHS conterparts (and in one case even longer), but unfortunately Naked Came the Stranger runs almost eleven minutes shorter than the tape. The removal of this footage makes no sense; apart from a comical, fully clothed S&M gag in an office, the cuts appear to be random (including an entire sex scene between Phyllis and William that explains the whole "love bunny" thing). Too bad, really, as the image quality is a much better transfer from the same source tape with more robust color. Extras include a video intro and commentary from Jim Holliday, who puts the film in its historical context and offers some anecdotes involving '70s porn; he's joined by an adult film actress (whose name is mumbled too low to be audible) who doesn't contribute much aside from admiring the fact that she's never had sex with anyone in the cast. Other extras are devoted mainly to the VHS cover art and a gallery of alternate shots, though the connection between these photo sessions and the movie itself is tenuous at best.


Color, 1974, 75 mins. / Directed by Henry Paris (Radley Metzger) / Starring Barbara Bourbon, Eric Edwards, Georgina Spelvin, Alan Marlow, Levi Richards, Sonny Landham, Marc Stevens, Darby Lloyd Rains, Jamie Gillis / VCA (US R0 NTSC)


Though director Radley Metzger had tap danced around the issue of non-simulated sex in such films as Score and The Punishment of Anne, he didn't make the full transition to hardcore until 1974's The Private Afternoons of Pamela Mann. Shot cheaply in 16mm, the film nevertheless exhibits the visual polish and skillful eye of its director throughout as it imaginatively uses New York locales as a sort of giant board game upon which the characters act out some of their wildest fantasies.

A wealthy Manhattan exec (Alan Marlow) hires a shifty private investigator (Eric Edwards) to follow and film his wife, Pamela (Barbara Bourbon), who spends her free afternoons engaging in a series of anonymous sexual encounters. Of course, the act of voyeurism brings out the scoundel in Edwards, who finds himself drawing closer and closer to his target. Meanwhile other characters become involved in this posh game of sexual tag including Pamela's maid (Darby Lloyd Rains, later the star of Metzger's Naked Came the Stranger), a politician (future Walter Hill regular Sonny Landham), and Pamela's best friend (Devil in Miss Jones' Georgina Spelvin) who happens to be a hooker. There's even a nifty twist ending for good measure, too.

Loaded with witty one liners and some nice movie in-jokes, Pamela Mann speeds by quickly during its brief running time. A knowledge of porn's social history will probably help, particularly concerning a running gag with a great punchline in which a female hippie repeatedly approaches Pamela and polls her on current news issues. As with most '70s classics, the acting and storyline are comparable to many mainstream titles being produced at the time; in fact, with a few alterations this script could make a very bubbly romantic comedy. However, Pamela will be of most interest to viewers familiar with Metzger, for whom this marks an interesting mid-career transition from the languid, European gloss of his earlier films to a snappier, more audacious editing style which directly engages the viewer in the unspooling of its plot. This direction really began with The Lickerish Quartet, which turns the film vs. reality approach into a beguiling series of Chinese boxes, but here he addresses the physical act of filming, with its shutterbug private eyes producing the interlocking series of visuals we witness throughout the film until the deliberately stagy, elegant final shot. Though not as intricate and continental as Misty Beethoven or as literate as Naked Came the Stranger, this first outing from Metzger's "Henry Paris" period remains one of his strongest efforts overall and serves its purpose as both a steamy adult film and an accomplished work of cinematic art.

Released during the heyday of porno chic, Pamela Mann was shot in both hard and softcore versions with wildly variant sex scenes and plot development. The former remains the most frequently seen, and while the inclusion of both would have been nice for comparison, VCA has opted to include only the XXX version, as per their usual standard. Unfortunately standards have become much stricter over the years, and as with their VHS edition, the film has lost a significant, eight minute sequence in which Pamela acts out a kidnap/rape fantasy in a garage with Rains and her chauffeur, Jamie Gillis, with the latter holding her down at gunpoint. Though really consensual, this scene was apparently too much in the wake of NOW porn demonstrations and may never be seen again by American audiences. However, fragments of the sequence turn up again during the long montage at the end of the film; just look for Gillis and close ups of a gun, neither of which make any sense now in the context of the film.

As with its other Henry Paris titles, VCA has recycled its one-inch video master for their DVD. The image taken from a battered print has a dated, lackluster appearance, and though it's sharper and more stable than the VHS tape, much more work could have been done. The transfer appears to be culled from a cropped 35mm blow up of the 16mm original, resulting in numerous flaws and inconsistencies in the appearance of what was meant to be a smooth, glittery film with lush colors. The sound is likewise tinny and flat, but at least dialogue and the haunting music score remain intelligible and free of distracting distortion. The strange white borders at the top and bottom periphery which plague all VCA transfers of Misty Beethoven are also present here, too, depending on your TV's overscan setting.

As usual VCA lists plenty of extra goodies on the back, though only a few pertain to the film itself. Best of the bunch is a feature length commentary with Edwards and the very active Veronica Hart, who was conspicuously absent on the DVD of Metzger's Barbara Broadcast. They make for lively company, though Edwards frequently mentions his lagging memory and insists over and over that he's retired from the business. Nevertheless they do get in a few fun facts, such as a casual mention that Spelvin recently worked as Hart's babysitter! Other bonuses include reproductions of the original B&W pressbook ad slicks, the VCA tape box art (which is nearly identical), and a gallery of stills (not frame grabs, thankfully), as well as a three minute video appraisal by Jim Holliday, who also mentions the deleted Gillis/Rains scene. The other extras are more extraneous, such as a "production stills" gallery from some other unnamed project and promos for other VCA titles.


Color, 1976, 84 mins. / Directed by Henry Paris (Radley Metzger) / Starring Constance Money, Jamie Gillis, Jacqueline Beaudant, Terri Hall, Calvin Culver, Ras Kean, Gloria Leonard, Janet Baldwin / Written by Jake Barnes / Music by George Craig / Cinematography by Robert Rochester

Format: DVD - VCA (MSRP $39.98) / Full Frame / Dolby Digital Mono


While all of adult film auteur Radley Metzger's soft and hardcore films bear his unmistakable stamp of elegance, only The Opening of Misty Beethoven broke the XXX mold and earned respected as a well made film which happened to contain actual sex. Thanks to a witty script, deft perforamances (yes, everyone here can act), striking sets, and continental locales, this is one for the time capsule.

While cruising the red light district of Paris, bestselling author and sex expert Seymour Love (Jamie Gillis) finds his adult film viewing (at a theater showing the French classic, Pussy Talk!) interrupted by a crass hooker, Misty Beethoven (Constance Money), who offers to take out for a quick, good time for fifty dollars. Seymour agrees and begins to quiz the enterprising but unappealing Misty about her lack of experience. Striking up a bet with his partner Geraldine (terrific one shot wonder Jacqueline Beaudant), Seymour wagers he can turn Misty into the toast of the town as the revered Golden Rod Girl at the next high society party thrown by vain magazine publisher Lawrence Layman (Ras Kean) and his wife (Gloria Leonard). Seymour, Geraldine, and Misty jet off to New York, where he instructs his pupil in the arts of pleasure and sends her out to build her reputation with a variety of men, including a mostly gay art dealer played by Score's Calvin Culver. As Misty's fame spreads, Seymour's arrogance conceals a growing attraction to his ugly duckling.. but can he still have her?

As most lit students will recognize from the above description, The Opening of Misty Beethoven is actually a thinly disguised retelling of George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion, also musicalized as My Fair Lady. Metzger had already experimented with sexy literary twists on Carmen and Camille, but this proved to be his most radical and critically successful attempt yet. The impeccable soundtrack of Euro lounge and pop music (culled from library tracks) and tastefully chosen locations (art galleries, opera theaters) establish just the right touch of playfulness, though the sex itself remains graphic and raunchy enough to satisfy the raincoat crowd. In fact, the satirical tone allows Metzger to get away with slipping in an amazing number of taboo images involving senior citizens, strap ons, and cross dressing, among others.

The box art for this DVD announces it contains previously censored material and never before seen footage, though this isn't exactly true. The large oversize VHS edition from VCA contained the entire menage a trois between Money, Leonard, and Kean, one of the most memorable kinky set pieces in the annals of '70s porn, which was later heavily censored for the regular sell-through edition. The DVD reinstates the footage (whose penetration close ups were performed by Culver, better known as gay porn actor Casey Donovan) and, VCA's restoration claims notwithstanding, appears to be taken from the same video master they've been going back to for years. The colors are punchier than usual, but given the fact that the film was originally shot in 16mm and blown up to 35mm before being slightly cropped for video, this is about as good as one could expect. Metzger himself owns the original materials for Misty, so hopefully a sharper, more carefully framed edition will turn up someday. The cropping isn't as damaging or claustrophobic when the DVD is viewed without overscan on a DVD-Rom drive, allowing more peripheral information on the sides to creep through. The disc includes some nifty extras, the most notable being a running feature commentary by Gillis and Leonard. Obviously old pals, the two dish out an amazing number of anecdotes about the film, many of them involving the notoriously uncooperative Money. Leonard also drops a couple of bombshells, including the revelation that she slept with Metzger (once) and a reference to the actual name of this flim's cinematographer, who won an Oscar a few months later (look it up on the IMDB!). A couple of factual goofs aside (Leonard insists Calvin Culver and Casey Donovan weren't the same person, and Gillis erroneously refers to this as his first film for Metzger), the commentary makes for an enlightening and joyous experience. Other goodies include a gallery of promotional stills for this film and Barbara Broadcast, a three minute reflection by Jim Holliday, and some promotional filler for VCA products. Sadly, the softcore version of Misty Beethoven has long been out of circulation and isn't included here -- a shame, really, as it includes numerous additional dialogue scenes and alternate takes which would have made for a fascinating comparison.


Color, 1977, 76 mins. / Directed by Henry Paris (Radley Metzger) / Starring Annette Haven, C.J. Laing, Sharon Mitchell, Wade Nichols, Jamie Gillis, Constance Money, Susan McBain, Bobby Astyr

Format: DVD - VCA (MSRP $39.98) / Full Frame / Dolby Digital Mono


Having established himself as a successful XXX director under the name Henry Paris, Radley Metzger quickly followed up his groundbreaking The Opening of Misty Beethoven the following year with Barbara Broadcast, another attempt to fuse lavish visuals and sharp wit with down and dirty sex scenes. This time any semblance of a plot is purely accidental, as the entire film revolves entirely around a goofy concept and manages to turn grindhouse filmmaking into pure surrealism.

At a posh New York restaurant, renowned sex expert Barbara Broadcast (Annette Haven) is interviewed by adventurous reporter Robert (C.J. Laing). However, people don't just eat food here, as the waitstaff delivers a variety of sexual services straight off the menu. Barbara's interview is constantly disrupted by autograph requests, sexual favors, and visits from old friends, while the clientele dallies on the tables, enjoys unorthodox salad dressing, and watches the maitre'd exact a most perverse revenge against waitresses who drop the restaurant's expensive plates. Eventually Roberta decides to get in on the action by traipsing off to the kitchen, where she enjoys a steamy session with a dishwasher (Wade Nichols). That night she and Barbara meet up again at a disco, where they engage in some public displays with the libidinous Curley (Jamie Gillis) and listen to his story involving a disciplinarian approach to a Protestant American Princess (Constance Money).

The opening half hour of Barbara Broadcast is a delirious delight, as the elegant restaurant setting provides a perfectly Bunuelian backdrop for a variety of sexual activities. Unfortunately the film has nowhere to go from there, with the story simply tacking on one encounter after another but only barely bothering to explain them. The kitchen sequence is by far the most intense moment of the film, and all of the performers (particularly Jennifer Grey lookalike Laing) seem to be putting their all into their roles. Mildly diverting fun and unmistakably Metzger, this isn't Misty Beethoven, but then how could it be?

Like many '70s "Henry Paris" titles, Barbara Broadcast has been chopped to pieces over the years due to various censorship laws governing the home video industry. First The Private Afternoons of Pamela Mann lost an entire sequence in a car garage involving Jamie Gillis due to the presence of a prop gun, and then this film turned up on home video from VCA (running a scant 69 minutes!) missing the entire final seven minutes of the film, again featuring Gillis. In fact this chilly S&M sequence was an excised scene from Misty Beethoven, which provoked Money into a succesful lawsuit for additional payment. The DVD restores this rarely seen finale, presented by Gillis as a flashback, though a few close up shots are still missing (legally a film can't mix hardcore with physical restraints in the same scene). The kitchen scene also contains the same softened opening from the earlier VCA release; originally Laing relieved herself on camera, but most versions subtitute Nichols' reaction shots instead combined with some vivid sound effects. Therefore the disc still comes up a bit short compared to the original running time, but it's still far more complete than anything we've had before. As with the Misty Beethoven disc, Gillis and Leonard return for an audio commentary, though their specific recollections are rather limited due to the fact that Leonard had nothing to do with the film and Gillis merely had a glorified cameo. Instead they offer more of an overview of the whole '70s adult film scene, Metzger's filmmaking techniques, and the histories behind the various performers.


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