A Smell of Honey, a Swallow of Brine / The Brick Dollhouse (Something Weird)

Rating:
Summary: "Honey" Easy to Swallow, "Dollhouse" Smells
Review: Kudos to Something Weird Video for putting "A Smell of Honey, a Swallow of Brine," one of David F. Friedman's best movies, on DVD! Sexy Stacey Walker, with her arched eyebrows, wicked smile and heavily sprayed hair, burns up the screen as Sharon Winters, a character who gets her kicks seducing men, then crying "Rape!" (In his commentary, the always-enteraining Friedman tells how he considered calling the movie "C.T.", but figured no one would get it.) It's a performance that's fun to watch, and certainly uses Walker to much greater effect than the nudie-cutie "The Notorious Daughter of Fanny Hill." Shot in black and white, "A Smell of Honey" has a deliciously tawdry look, yet shows some artful flourishes (likely attributed to cinematographer Laszlo Kovacs as director Byron Mabe was never known for artful flourishes. Even when the actors are clothed, our imaginations are nudged into the gutter (Walker and "victim" framed in a tree that looks like spread thighs; Walker suggestively drinking from a Coke bottle while the camera periodically cuts to the thrusting, bulging crotch of her boyfriend singing in a bar). Walker could've easily gone on to stardom, in either exploitation or even mainstream movies (she reportedly was courted by Paramount). But, as Friedman tells it, she married "some gazoony" and moved back to her home state of Texas after only making two feature-length movies.

Friedman only distributed "A Sweet Sickness," but the movie is a worthy second feature to "A Smell of Honey." Starring Vincene Wallace as a Hollywood hopeful who tries to hold on to her virtue while pursuing an acting career, "A Sweet Sickness" is nastier than most '60s sex pics, but not quite crossing over into '70s soft-X territory. Some amusing moments include Wallace's sleazy agent getting cornered on his casting couch by a Rubinesque stripper (named Bertha, naturally); Wallace sporting a hairstyle that looks like she has a giant gourd perched atop her head; a hyperkenetic performance by a spindly exotic dancer who looks a lot like Hollywood madam Heidi Fleiss; and a bed brought to life through stop-motion animation. Look for Carol Channing in an opening scene (calm down, she's not naked).

"The Brick Dollhouse" is another Friedman pickup, and even he refers to it as a "worthless piece of crap." Swinging roommates come home to discover one of their roomies has been shot dead. By the time the police arrive, they've all changed into sexy lingerie--perfect attire for telling the police about all those swingin', topless pot parties they go to on a daily basis. There a few moments in this lame whodunnit that'll produce giggles, and if you like looking at topless '60s babes go-go dancing you'll be in heaven. Otherwise, even with a running time of 55 minutes, "The Brick Dollhouse" goes on waaaay too long.

There are trailers for other Friedman movies, like "The Defilers," "The Notorious Daughter of Fanny Hill" and "The Lustful Turk" (in which all the men wear obviously fake beards). But the best extra is Friedman's commentary on "A Smell of Honey." This sultan of sleaze and Allah of alliteration (sorry, got carried away) livens up any DVD with his frankly-told, frequently humorous anecdotes of exploitation's golden age. At times, his commentary can be more entertaining than the movie (e.g. "Fanny Hill" and "The Head Mistress"). Though "A Smell of Honey" easily stands on its own, Friedman's commentary is icing on the cake.

Rating:
Summary: Kitschy, entertaining 1960s bad girl sexploitation trash
Review: Rebounding from their disappointing Flesh Trilogy disc, Something Weird presents one certified sexploitation classic in A Smell of Honey, A Swallow of Brine, and throws in two lesser but enjoyably kitschy nudies, A Sweet Sickness and The Brick Dollhouse, for a satisfying David Friedman triple-bill.
In Smell of Honey, Sharon Winters (Stacey Walker) makes a hobby of seducing her dullard male coworkers then screaming rape, ruining their careers and reputations. While not destroying men, Sharon spends her time teasing her big-haired lesbian roommate Paula. Sharon embarks on a "serious relationship" with new man at the office Lowell Carter, leading to his inevitable seduction/rejection. He reacts by having an erotic, kinky, soft-focus bondage dream about Sharon whipping and being whipped by him. After Sharon cries rape on Carter, he stalks and sexually assaults another woman and is shot in the back by her boyfriend. Finally, Sharon picks up young stud Tony, they dance at a bar, and she takes him home to try her usual routine only to find that she's more than met her match. Friedman's script nicely balances plot and dialogue with the obligatory petting/bathing scenes, and first-time director Byron Mabe (She Freak, The Acid Eaters) actually goes for the occasional arty montage. As Friedman observes, Walker ("discovered" by him on a Florida beach) perfectly personifies white-trash sexuality, playing the harlot with obvious relish as she spits out such lines as "Some of us, Paula, would rather fight than switch" or the now-famous "I may be a bi**h, but I'll never be a bu**h." The strangely appropriate soundtrack is by an anonymous garage band (Et Cetra) that falls somewhere between hippieish folk-psych and Stooges-like proto-punk, and often seems on the verge of completely falling apart. Another of Laszlo Kovacs's early pre-fame movies, this looks great even when nothing spectacular is happening; unfortunately the print is far from perfect. The tonal values, detail, sharpness, and grain are generally fine, but there is light speckling and blemishing, light lining, some heavier damage around reel changes, and a series of horizontal emulsion dings that appears for about 15 or 20 minutes midway through. Worse, the opening scene in the car, a shower scene with Sharon and Carter, and a few other spots are marred by jump cuts and missing dialogue. Considering the logistics of finding any decent print of a film like this after 35 years, these are forgivable flaws, yet still disappointing. Ignoring the print problems, Smell of Honey is terrific fun for fans of 60s roughie sexploitation and a nice bookend to Friedman and Lee Frost's The Defilers.
A Sweet Sickness tells the story of the "young gals" who come to Hollywood looking for stardom only to find that unless they "put out" they'll get nothing but a "one-way ticket back to Hicksville." The narrator snidely informs us that Connie, a seasoned casting-couch veteran, has a three-day $750 Vegas gig, while roommate Dee, a newcomer who wants to make it without compromising herself, is broke and unemployed ("but then, she still has her pride"). Dee is molested by their scuzzy landlord, applies for a job with a lecherous agent (then tells him to "shove it"), and is shown an apartment by a realtor who drugs her and imprisons her (in a distorted "trip" sequence) in a room full of pot-smoking white slave girls. Later, at a club holding a strange "strip auction," Dee and a "cute" guy in silk shirt and white pants dance on stage, backed by The Tigers and the Pussycat, a novelty garage trio featuring a female guitarist with long blonde hair. The owner threatens to withhold Dee's pay for spurning the winning "bidder" and a skinny topless "hippie" chick dances wildly. Back at the realtor's, Dee's involved in a drugged-out slo-mo bisexual whipped-cream party. In the hilarious final scene, a lustful casting agent reveals his pushbutton roll-away "casting" bed. These sequences, with their goofy dialogue, sarcastic narration, and bizarre plot twists are amusing enough; unfortunately they only account for about 25 percent of the 65-minute movie. The rest is the usual "nudie" padding of dressing, showering, bathing, hairbrushing, dancing, etc., that seems at times to go on forever (at least the women are generally good looking). The soundtrack is again provided by an unknown garage/frat rock band (Raul and the Revelations), and some vintage Bell System dial telephones are featured prominently. Print quality is quite good, better than the main feature, with generally excellent tonal values, sharpness, and detail, marred only by some light speckling and visible grain. Entertaining in a mid-60s schlock sort of way, just be ready with the fast-forward button.
The Brick Dollhouse, is ostensibly a murder mystery set in a "swinging" apartment building. The framing story of detectives questioning the (mostly female) residents about the murder is really just an excuse for extended flashback "party" scenes of backyard/poolside bongo playing, semi-naked go-go dancing, water-pipe smoking, joint Bogarting, chess playing, showering, dressing, keyhole-peeping, whipping, spanking, macho posturing, and spin-the-bottle sessions. There's plenty of hideous 1960s decor, clothing, and hairdos on display, backed by sub-Ventures guitar, sax, and organ. Print quality is surpisingly good, with very good to excellent color balance and saturation, acceptable contrast and detail, and some light speckling/blemishing the only evident damage. While far from classic, Brick Dollhouse is a painless, mildly amusing 55 minutes, more so for serious students of 1960s kitsch. "Yeah, she's outasight. Really outasight!"
The outstanding "extra" is a florid, fanciful, fascinating audio commentary on Smell of Honey by storyteller extraordinaire Dave Friedman, easily worth half the price of the disc if you're at all interested in the history of exploitation cinema. Friedman trailers include A Sweet Sickness, The Defilers, The Lustful Turk (looks pretty painful), Starlet, and The Notorious Daughter of Fanny Hill (with Stacey Walker). There is also a Friedman exploitation art gallery and an odd short containing the (videotaped) trailer for Brick Dollhouse. Overall, a solid buy for 1960s sexploitation fans. Recommended.