Coming early in writer-director David Stanley's career, "House of Lies" reminded me of David Mamet both from its title, subject matter and crisp minimalism. This is a 70- minute feature demonstrating how to shoot porn (or storytelling for that matter) without the flab.
There's an immediate existentialist air about the picture, as we're introduced to rather blank hero Cheyne Collins, an actor who often scored plum acting assignments in the era before gonzo virtually wiped out acting as we know it. We meet him humping his wife Holly (played by Venus, an attractive actress who convincingly is a plain-Jane here, adding to the realism of the piece) one morning, but before he can leave his driveway he's become enmeshed in the usual chain-of- circumstances spiraling him downward that typify the '40s film noir genre.
Beautiful neighbor Raylene beseeches him for help against an abusive boyfriend, but moments later the cops arrive on the routine domestic violence call and it is Cheyne who gets arrested when Ray turns on a dime and accuses him, not the b.f., of hitting her.
Fast-paced opus has a "Two Years Later" card on screen, announcing Cheyne's release from stir, only to be greeted with a proffered ride by Raylene. This time she's the proverbial Greek bearing gifts, handing Cheyne a hefty check to make amends, plus a new home for the ex-con to live in, replete with live-in maid Miranda (sympathetically played by April, who turns out to have the show's leading role),
Events seem almost dream-like as Cheyne is buffeted by forces clearly outside of his control, creating instant empathy with the viewer. He beds down with Miranda, only to be cryptically told by her after his money shot that it's "part of the contract". Along with suspense music, this sets us up for some later revelations about what's REALLY going on (though Stanley wisely leaves certain matters hanging).
SPOILERS AHEAD:
Miranda has sex with Raylene in a provocative scene, and it's clear that Ray is up to no good, though hardly obvious exactly what. Hints are dropped and it is revealed that a nefarious guy Uncle Otto (played by Julian Ott as sort of a human Jabba the Hutt) is behind what's wrong in Chatwsorth, including keeping Miranda's hubby Jimmy in bondage over a debt.
Auteur Stanley gives us some raw porn to chew on, as two top-heavy slave girls (Wendy Divine and Alexis King) service each other sapphically with carefully selected dildos, brought out on a tray ostentatiously by Ott's silent butler, essayed without screen credit by Dale Dabone.
Of course Cheyne eventually hooks up in bed with femme fatale Raylene, and the final turn of events in his saga has an evil "Twilight Zone" twist overtone. This is one of those movies that finishes with a sting in its tail, not cryptic but sudden and open-ended enough to have a strong impact.
Stanley's body of work is worth viewing and studying -though lately he has been put out to pasture as porn labels care only about gonzo, but he made a hundred features in his decade of prominence to sample.
There's an immediate existentialist air about the picture, as we're introduced to rather blank hero Cheyne Collins, an actor who often scored plum acting assignments in the era before gonzo virtually wiped out acting as we know it. We meet him humping his wife Holly (played by Venus, an attractive actress who convincingly is a plain-Jane here, adding to the realism of the piece) one morning, but before he can leave his driveway he's become enmeshed in the usual chain-of- circumstances spiraling him downward that typify the '40s film noir genre.
Beautiful neighbor Raylene beseeches him for help against an abusive boyfriend, but moments later the cops arrive on the routine domestic violence call and it is Cheyne who gets arrested when Ray turns on a dime and accuses him, not the b.f., of hitting her.
Fast-paced opus has a "Two Years Later" card on screen, announcing Cheyne's release from stir, only to be greeted with a proffered ride by Raylene. This time she's the proverbial Greek bearing gifts, handing Cheyne a hefty check to make amends, plus a new home for the ex-con to live in, replete with live-in maid Miranda (sympathetically played by April, who turns out to have the show's leading role),
Events seem almost dream-like as Cheyne is buffeted by forces clearly outside of his control, creating instant empathy with the viewer. He beds down with Miranda, only to be cryptically told by her after his money shot that it's "part of the contract". Along with suspense music, this sets us up for some later revelations about what's REALLY going on (though Stanley wisely leaves certain matters hanging).
SPOILERS AHEAD:
Miranda has sex with Raylene in a provocative scene, and it's clear that Ray is up to no good, though hardly obvious exactly what. Hints are dropped and it is revealed that a nefarious guy Uncle Otto (played by Julian Ott as sort of a human Jabba the Hutt) is behind what's wrong in Chatwsorth, including keeping Miranda's hubby Jimmy in bondage over a debt.
Auteur Stanley gives us some raw porn to chew on, as two top-heavy slave girls (Wendy Divine and Alexis King) service each other sapphically with carefully selected dildos, brought out on a tray ostentatiously by Ott's silent butler, essayed without screen credit by Dale Dabone.
Of course Cheyne eventually hooks up in bed with femme fatale Raylene, and the final turn of events in his saga has an evil "Twilight Zone" twist overtone. This is one of those movies that finishes with a sting in its tail, not cryptic but sudden and open-ended enough to have a strong impact.
Stanley's body of work is worth viewing and studying -though lately he has been put out to pasture as porn labels care only about gonzo, but he made a hundred features in his decade of prominence to sample.