Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Vixens of Kung Fu (1975)

Written by: Cho En Young
Directed by: Chiang a.k.a. Bill Milling
Bree Anthony – Prostitute (yes, it's that much of a porn the characters don't even have names)
Tony Richards – Monk (no, not the OCD detective from the TV show)
C.J. Laing – Kung Fu Teacher

I was going to start this off by saying this was the first movie I've ever reviewed that had a money shot in it, but then I remembered that dubious honor goes to Emanuelle In America. This is, however, the first movie I've ever reviewed that made me yell, “HOLY CRAP THERE'S A BEE BY HIS WEINER!” Yeah, I know. We'll get to it.

So one day there's this woman, right? She's a prostitute, but we don't know that yet. Anyway, she's enjoying a peaceful walk in the woods, looking at all the lovely fall foliage (this movie sucks figurative as well as literal balls, but the scenery is beautiful) when she is accosted by three rapey-looking fellows who I thought were supposed to make us think of the hicks from I Spit On Your Grave, until I realized this movie predated that one by three years. But they're definitely more hillbillies than escaped prison thugs like Krug and his gang, so I don't know. The lady turns to run, but is shot in the back by the “gun of anesthesia”. Look, just roll with it. What follows is quite possibly the strangest sex scene I've ever sat through. It's definitely supposed to be a rape, so that's plenty icky already, but then the woman clearly enjoys it, which makes it about a thousand times worse. This being a porn, this is also meant to be spank ammo, which rockets it into the stratosphere of disgusting, and the hits just keep coming (literally!) with waaaaaay too much focus on the sweaty, leering faces of the men. It is disarmed some by the hilariously inappropriate banjo pickin' music and the fact that one of the rapists repeatedly bonks the woman playfully on the forehead with his schlong. And finally, I went from cringing, to thinking, Sweet zombie Jesus, is this still going on?, to laughing out loud when, just to be thorough, the one guy who had remained clothed the whole time and just sort of watched the other two dudes bang away in uncomfortable silence jerks off into her socks and rubs her scarf on his balls!

After wandering through the woods in a daze for a while, the woman stumbles upon a secret woodland kung fu school for women. It's here we discover that the woman is a prostitute, who is seeking to flee her life of sexual servitude, so the mistress teaches her kung fu, which is mostly accomplished by giving each other oily rubdowns, having lesbian sex, and meditating until smoke comes out of their vaginas. Yes, really.

One day, a wandering monk comes across two of the women having sex in the woods, and wishes to join in. One of the women knocks him out and drags him back to their teacher to ask what they should do with him. As a reward for all their hard work (and by hard work I mean licking each other and rubbing oil on each other's boobs), the teacher tells them to have their way with him. The monk fails to hold his jizz until all the women are pleasured, and so he is deemed an unworthy lover and sent away with his dong limp with shame. He scurries off to another kung fu teacher who runs a Chinese restaurant in a nearby town, and she teaches him Golden Dragon Raising Head Kung Fu. I think a more accurate name would have been Purple Cyclops Vomits Cheese Kung Fu, but perhaps the filmmakers thought that would be too on-the-nose, considering the layers of nuance and metaphor – almost Bergmanesque in their subtlety and perfection – that the film has been couched in up to this point.

Once again, the training to master this style of kung fu is a little suspect, as it mostly involves the monk standing under a waterfall and jerking off while the Chinese chef glares at him. However, it is the perfect style of kung fu for him to use when he returns to the woodland lesbian dojo, where he challenges the prostitute to a fuck-off. I think. Even the movie isn't too clear on why exactly we're watching yet another sex scene, except it's a porno flick and we've spent the last five minutes with what, for this movie anyway, is way too much plot getting in the way of the story. It's here, during the 69 portion of what is a surprisingly un-hairy sex scene for a 70's porn, that the movie does a pretty damn great job of redeeming what has been overall a pretty dull experience so far. The two are fucking in a meadow, prostitute is on the bottom, with monk dipping his dong into her mouth, when a curious bee comes buzzing up to investigate his pistil and stamen. Bree Anthony totally breaks whatever character she had built up by this point, laughing and frantically trying to shoo the bee away before it stings the unsuspecting member and sends Tony Richards into anaphylactic cock.

Eventually the two fuck each other to a draw, and I'm not sure whether they're supposed to be unconscious or dead, but considering the monk pisses a stream of vivid red blood as he falls to the ground screaming, I'm guessing dead. Also, I want to know how Richards got the bizarro porn superpower of peeing blood on command. I mean, lots of guys can shoot a load across the room and hit a bullseye, but that's really impressive. The two kung fu teachers show their respect for each other by doing a couple of half-assed freeze-frame jumps into the air, and roll credits.

Well, that was...an experience. I don't know how much replay value this thing has, but I'm certainly glad I saw it once. Vinegar Syndrome is really making a name for themselves in the tiny niche market of super-obscure vintage smut curiosities, but I wish they would copy a page from Something Weird's book and load these suckers up with extras. Surely someone involved in this flick would have been willing to talk about it on camera for ten minutes. Or throw some shorts or trailers on there, something. Granted, the transfers they clean up typically look fucking amazing for coming from sources they probably fished out of a toilet somewhere, so there's that to be thankful for. I bet you could never tell that was blood shooting out of the monk's wangle on an old VHS.

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