beau pardoned for his crimes and attempts to blackmail George with incriminating photos. The acting is uneven but the nudity is plentiful in this schizo collision of sleaze and bittersweet romance, with photography and editing that occasionally aspires to French New Wave innovations. Carey apparently enjoyed his little celluloid “fling” so much that he arranged for another the very next year, this time in living color. WEEKEND WITH THE BABYSITTER has a nearly iden- tical set-up, except this time Carey plays a restless middle- aged movie director, while baby- sitter Candy (Susan Romen) is so put off by the way he depicts young people in his scripts that she takes it upon herself to edu- cate the dinosaur. “There’s something big and new going on out there,” she proclaims prior to teaching Carey how to smoke a joint and ride a motorcycle. He responds by flying her up to his weekend cabin, nestled between snow-capped mountains, and getting down to what he’s really after. But the most memorable part of this slightly superior redo is the even sleazier subplot involv- ing Carey’s wife, who lives a se- cret life as a cokehead and even relents to being a sex slave to her
Susan Romen educates a middle-aged movie director in how to loosen up and get with it in WEEKEND WITH THE BABYSITTER.
seedy suppliers as they head to- ward a botched drug deal on the open sea. The hilarious dialogue and overripe performances that follow make all the “slice-of-life” idylls with Candy (including that oft-utilized ploy to pad a youth film—the motocross scene) not so unbearable after all.
Disc 2 gets off to a flamboy-
ant start with the world’s first (and only gay) biker flick, THE PINK ANGELS. This bizarre variation on the EASY RIDER template fol- lows six gay men on three mo- torcycles (the more effeminate “angels” ride in sidecars) as they journey cross-country to a drag- queen ball in Los Angeles.
John Alderman (center) and his fellow riders in the first (and only) gay biker flick, THE PINK ANGELS.
Director Lawrence Brown (who helmed only one other film, 1975’s THE PSYCHOPATH) was apparently not too keen on the final result, as his credit is so small onscreen you’re likely to miss it. Our heroes’ flimsy mas- querade as Hell’s Angels types leads to incensed bigotry once the macho stereotypes they meet along the way (highway patrolmen, hitchhikers, other bikers) learn the “awful” truth; however, the real danger lies at the end of the road, in their fated confrontation with a sweaty, right-wing lunatic “Gen- eral” straight out of a Russ Meyer film. It’s these badly art-directed diversions with the General and other cartoonish moments that cheapen what otherwise could have been a politically daring slice of life for the time. High- lights of the Angels’ odyssey in- clude a food fight at a drive-in (hot dogs, of course), confusion over gender-specific bathrooms, and a picnic with tablecloths and silverware. Kudos to pro- lific skin-flick star John Alder- man (TRADER HORNEE, LOVE CAMP 7) for a generally re- strained portrayal as the pack’s leader, but the meandering nar- rative and ugly cinematography will drive most viewers to a rest
52
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28 |
Page 29 |
Page 30 |
Page 31 |
Page 32 |
Page 33 |
Page 34 |
Page 35 |
Page 36 |
Page 37 |
Page 38 |
Page 39 |
Page 40 |
Page 41 |
Page 42 |
Page 43 |
Page 44 |
Page 45 |
Page 46 |
Page 47 |
Page 48 |
Page 49 |
Page 50 |
Page 51 |
Page 52 |
Page 53 |
Page 54 |
Page 55 |
Page 56 |
Page 57 |
Page 58 |
Page 59 |
Page 60 |
Page 61 |
Page 62 |
Page 63 |
Page 64 |
Page 65 |
Page 66 |
Page 67 |
Page 68 |
Page 69 |
Page 70 |
Page 71 |
Page 72 |
Page 73 |
Page 74 |
Page 75 |
Page 76 |
Page 77 |
Page 78 |
Page 79 |
Page 80 |
Page 81 |
Page 82 |
Page 83 |
Page 84
