Wade Williams is a well-known figure to traditional sci-fi fans for his work in preserving and distributing genre films. In an entirely different genre, he helmed this threadbare nudie film, resurrected as one of the more obscure titles in Something Weird's catalog, retitled PUSSYCAT PUSSYCAT.
No, it's not Tom Jones warming up to warble a Hal David/Burt Bacharach hit, but rather a stupid peeping tom opus. The untalented hero who's unsuccessfully filling a Terry-Thomas role leads us through a very boring hour of gazing at nude women, most of whom are played, over & over again (with different wigs and hairdos) by a prehistoric version of Marsha Jordan. She's already a bit overweight (shall I say like a Rubens model), but has a youthful look that will be a treat to her fans more familiar with the prototypical MILF version of Marsha in her heyday 5 or so years hence.
The creaky structure of a retired door-to-door salesman relating his non-adventures to us is a pain; would that Wade had substituted some cheapie PLAN 9 type of sci-fi spine to this sad excuse for skin shots. I'm betting he got a good talking to back in the day by Bill Rotsler, who far more effectively balanced his Hugo-level sci-fi career with an estimable output of porn films on the side.
Typical of the film's "who cares?" approach, the narrator actually gets bored on screen while a stripper (who oddly resembles the 21st Century porn star Olivia O'Lovely) dances for him -if he's bored, you can imagine how us paying customers feel out in the audience.
Film's only classy element is an original solo harmonica score improvising in a jazzy mode -a pretty decent imitation of the great Larry Adler.
No, it's not Tom Jones warming up to warble a Hal David/Burt Bacharach hit, but rather a stupid peeping tom opus. The untalented hero who's unsuccessfully filling a Terry-Thomas role leads us through a very boring hour of gazing at nude women, most of whom are played, over & over again (with different wigs and hairdos) by a prehistoric version of Marsha Jordan. She's already a bit overweight (shall I say like a Rubens model), but has a youthful look that will be a treat to her fans more familiar with the prototypical MILF version of Marsha in her heyday 5 or so years hence.
The creaky structure of a retired door-to-door salesman relating his non-adventures to us is a pain; would that Wade had substituted some cheapie PLAN 9 type of sci-fi spine to this sad excuse for skin shots. I'm betting he got a good talking to back in the day by Bill Rotsler, who far more effectively balanced his Hugo-level sci-fi career with an estimable output of porn films on the side.
Typical of the film's "who cares?" approach, the narrator actually gets bored on screen while a stripper (who oddly resembles the 21st Century porn star Olivia O'Lovely) dances for him -if he's bored, you can imagine how us paying customers feel out in the audience.
Film's only classy element is an original solo harmonica score improvising in a jazzy mode -a pretty decent imitation of the great Larry Adler.
