Unholy hybrid of psychological melodrama and soft-core nudie (with some head-scratchingly odd comedic asides added to the imbalance) has an immoral, decadent producer of 'arty' porno films playing kinky sex-and-death games with his X-rated starlet ("Get the perfume! Now load the gun!"). He goes too far and kills her, yet the coroner is apparently fooled into believing her death was a suicide (though the shooting is suspicious enough to get a middle-aged detective to start sniffing around). The filmmaker's alibi is provided by his statuesque assistant, a hedonistic bisexual vamp who lies for him but has a secret: she was in love with the dead actress, and plots her revenge. Cobbled together by writers Theodore Gershuny (who also directed, badly) and Lloyd Kaufman (who also co-produced, along with future director Oliver Stone, Ami Artzi, Garrard Glenn and Jeffrey Kapelman), this low-budget curiosity might have made for a juicy cult item if only the team had picked up the pace a bit. It's dreary instead of dangerous and tiresome instead of erotic. A subplot about the producer's young nephew trying to lose weight (and having sex with a prostitute dressed in a wig and pink see-through wrap) is just bizarre. As the assistant, Mary Woronov (Gershuny's then-wife) has amusingly diabolical eyebrows and silky chestnut hair falling passed her shoulders. She has the film's best directed and edited sequence, a quick series of auditions for a new skin-flick. Woronov is required to strip like the other actors but, unlike Lynn Lowry (continuously naked in a dual role), she isn't degraded by the camera; she's so assured an actress that towering over the C-grade material (literally) comes naturally for her. *1/2 from ****
