Of zero interest to anyone but a film antiquarian, Four on the Floor is a wall-to-wall sex film from the late softcore era. Some driving around footage, with heroine Priscilla at the wheel of her Jaguar XK-E convertible, accounts for its title. The idiot self-appointed "film historian" who wrote the liner notes for SWV has a mind so limited to sex, he couldn't even figure out the automotive reference of the title!
Primitive film-making is stalled here back in the Silent Era: no sound recording; one line of looped dialog for Priscilla, and much of the action "explained" in inter titles, just like they did back in the '20s. Priscilla goes to a couple of swinging parties, hooks up with her tardy boyfriend Red, and as one inter title reads: "Priscilla splits". She's driving the sporty car at the finale when the sound effect of a car crash (familiar from its comical use by various AM rock & roll deejays of my youth) implies a bad end.
Despite femmes dancing around sporting full-frontal nudity, sex here is tame and repetitive, with the guys always keeping their underpants on. Times Square theater marquees oddly display two 1968 Argentine imports: Unsatisfied Love and The Female, as well as Box Lunch, last-named too obscure for even IMDb inclusion.
Strangest thing is that the principal credits all appear to be pseudonyms, but music is credited to a roster of real-life '60s British composers. This is perhaps the only case of carefully crediting library music to its actual composers I've ever encountered with a porn film.
Primitive film-making is stalled here back in the Silent Era: no sound recording; one line of looped dialog for Priscilla, and much of the action "explained" in inter titles, just like they did back in the '20s. Priscilla goes to a couple of swinging parties, hooks up with her tardy boyfriend Red, and as one inter title reads: "Priscilla splits". She's driving the sporty car at the finale when the sound effect of a car crash (familiar from its comical use by various AM rock & roll deejays of my youth) implies a bad end.
Despite femmes dancing around sporting full-frontal nudity, sex here is tame and repetitive, with the guys always keeping their underpants on. Times Square theater marquees oddly display two 1968 Argentine imports: Unsatisfied Love and The Female, as well as Box Lunch, last-named too obscure for even IMDb inclusion.
Strangest thing is that the principal credits all appear to be pseudonyms, but music is credited to a roster of real-life '60s British composers. This is perhaps the only case of carefully crediting library music to its actual composers I've ever encountered with a porn film.