Spring Break Leads to Crap

Yeah, I had another one of those weeks, where I had to schedule breathes in advance. The week before Spring Break, when everyone and everything at my Day Job was trying to get everything nailed down before they left for a week. At the final total, three remote shoots, two live remotes, two shows and one story conference. Followed by a week in which I only had one live remote and two story conferences, and time to actually do something, which of course meant I didn’t do very much. I did spend a lot of time on research for the writing contract, though, and now know more about tongue biopsies than I ever wanted to know.

The end of my Spring Break week, though, yielded another Crapfest, though not as well-attended as the others. It was only myself, Host Dave, Rick and Alan, who had a fortuitous weekend off from his rehearsal schedule. There had been a general muttering about the Crapfests straying from their original intended purpose, which was watching as many trashy R-rated movies with exposed breasts as possible, so this night’s schedule was dubbed Sleaze-O-Rama, and as this seemed to lead to a reduced audience, I can only assume we are returning to G-rated fare for the remainder of the year.

While waiting for the others to arrive – I had casually ignored Dave’s sudden plea to move the beginning up an hour – I convinced him to put on Dark and Stormy Night, which is Larry (Lost Skeleton of Cadavra) Blamire’s tribute/pastiche of black-and-white Old Dark House Movies. I love it, and I knew Dave was one of the few people conversant enough with the tropes of that genre to also appreciate it.

Rick arrived at the halfway mark and enjoyed it too, so there. We have now penciled in Lost Skeleton for a future Crapfest. Alan arrived, and we could finally cook the carnitas, eat, and begin the proceedings. And, at long last, I would watch Scorchy.

Scorchy is Connie Stevens’ exploitation movie. There may be more, but the lady’s filmography is so full of TV movies and episodes that it tends to stand out as the only one.

Scorchy led to a lot of head-scratching, not the least of which is because nobody ever refers to Stevens’ character as “Scorchy”. She’s Jackie Parker, a police detective who’s been working undercover to bust a heroin ring. This means posing as a jet-setter type on the taxpayer’s dime – for a year and a half – while ingratiating herself to the wife of the head of the ring, played by Cesare DeNova.

The second instance of head-scratching comes at the expense of the poster above, which, surprise surprise, lies. Ms. Stevens only makes love once, and doesn’t make with the killin’ until the end of the picture, which certainly doesn’t fit into one evening.

Scorchy is basically an over-long episode of Police Woman with occasional – pretty darn occasional – nudity. Ms. Stevens allows us to observe her (admittedly nice) ta-tas three times, and one peripheral character gets an expanded role in the final drug deal, just so she can change clothes and provide us with the required full-frontal nudity.

So Scorchy is not an ideal drive-in movie experience. We were also confused by the soundtrack, which is an electronic-percussion heavy monster more fitting in a 1980s movie, not a 1976 offering like Scorchy. Dave did some research and found it was, indeed, a re-scored version – though no reason was given. (why would anyone fight over the rights to the score of a movie like Scorchy?)  There’s also a bizarre bit of re-editing at the end where (SPOILER ALERT) DeNova outfoxes our heroine,  and shoots her in the uterus with her own gun (I’m not kidding, the placement of that squib is very specific). He then tries to get away, but Stevens gets out her second hidden pistol and shoots him dead. Then there is a freeze-frame of the bloodied Stevens. It’s a very kung-fu way to end a movie, and according to Dave, in the original version (ANOTHER SPOILER ALERT) she flat out dies.

Still, we allowed as how this was a fair entre into the world of sleaze, if a bit… lacking. So when Rick “I Love White Slavery” began demanding The Abductors as the next flick, there was little dissension.

The Abductors is a Ginger movie, which means it can be counted on to put the “sleaze” into Sleaze-O-Rama. In the epic inaugural Crapfest in Dave’s new home, we had watched the first movie, Ginger. Although, if you only watch one Ginger movie, it should be The Abductors, because star Cheri Caffaro is a lot more comfortable in her role, and there is a little more money in the budget, though not enough to really blunt the sleazery.

The link above will take you to my old review of the flick, but to make it brief: Ginger is a bored jet-setter who likes to style herself as “the female James Bond”.  Some insidious organization is kidnapping beauty queens and cheerleaders and selling them to rich white dudes as “mistresses in bondage”. Ginger and a young protegé will, of course, offer themselves up as bait and wind up tied up and in various states of undress. Of course, Ginger, the older, wilier Ginger will employ the powers of Applied Sluttiness to get out of her predicament (as Dave observed, “We really are that stupid, aren’t we?”), while the protegé proves that all you have to do to get a woman to talk is not to torture her, but get her hot and bothered.

Dave also earns extra sleaze points for knowing that the main henchman also appeared in Young Lady Chatterly.

Rick is now a confirmed Cheri Caffaro fanatic, which means a screening of the final Ginger movie, Girls Are For Loving, is in the future. To further your fledgling love for the lady, here is the musical number from The Abductors:

After that, Alan set up his Rock Band equipment, and we played that on into the night. I know bupkiss about playing musical instruments, so I can manage a decent success rate on a bass guitar set at Easy, but that’s the extent of my skill at the game. Still, some fun was had, even if we had said farewell to boobies for the evening.

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