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Put On Your Raincoats #17 | The Erotic Reveries of Rinse Dream

Cafe Flesh opens with a title card orienting us to its post-apocalyptic setting. After a calamitous apocalyptic event known as the "Nuclear Kiss", the world is made up of 99% "Sex Negatives", and 1% "Sex Positives". The Sex Negatives can't have sex and can only watch. The Sex Positives escaped such a fate, but are instead forced to perform for an audience of Positives for their vicarious enjoyment. There are many such venues but the one we spend the movie in is the Cafe Flesh of the title, a nightclub where the decor and patronage evoke a cross between punk rock and retro-futurist aesthetics and a hint of Rat Pack era cool. A smarmy comedian in a white tuxedo introduces the sex acts, which are elaborately staged performances that play almost as genre parody with their tongue-in-cheek choreography (plenty of costumed grinding, as with a performer in a rat costume early on, and mimed thrusting, as with another performer in a pencil costume in a later scene) until the turn into the real thing with the requisite close-ups. Futuristic jazz reminiscent of Angelo Badalamenti's music plays over the proceedings.

This serves as the background to a story about a woman who may or may not secretly be a Positive (played by scream queen Michelle Bauer and, in certain scenes, a body double) and the impending arrival of a legendary Positive performer known for his virility (a towering, square-jawed Kevin James, introduced in black sunglasses and an oversized blue suit). We also get a sense of the tensions in this nightclub ecosystem, particularly between the heroine and her boyfriend, a new performer, the comedian, the owner (who puts the comedian in his place in one scene by having him cruelly recite "the rhyme"). (The comedian is played by Andy Nichols and the owner by Tantala Ray, both of whom played interview subjects in Gregory Dark's Devil in Miss Jones two-parter, which leads me to believe the latter was influenced by this movie, as Nichols in particular doesn't have many screen credits.)

This movie apparently was a bit of a success in the midnight movie circuit, and it's not hard to see why, based on the strength of the mise en scene and the performances. The cool, smoky backgrounds of the reaction shots provide a nice counterpoint to the avant garde looking performances and give the highly stylized setting a nice evocative quality. There's also a level of genre commentary here, as the story ultimately is about the heroine's agency over her pleasure and the roles sex performers are forced into by greater society, ultimately imprisoned by their own abilities. Truth be told I found the performances got a little less enjoyable when they got down to business with the penetration and whatnot (it gets harder to pull off inspired choreography when one of your appendages is stuck in another person, or vice versa), but I also think it's necessary for those themes to resonate.

Cafe Flesh was directed by Stephen Sayadian, credited as Rinse Dream, and he'd previously used that pseudonym on Nightdreams, for which he co-wrote the screenplay. (The director was Francis Delia, who went on to a career of directing mostly music videos and television, while the other writer was Jerry Stahl, known for his memoir Permanent Midnight, as well as writing for shows such as ALF and movies such as Bad Boys II.) This movie similarly concerns agency over female pleasure and is about two doctors (Andy Nichols and Jennifer West) conducting experiments on a mentally ill young woman by inducing erotic dreams and monitoring her brainwaves. There's a dream involving a giant, monstrous jack-in-the-box. There's one with a pair of cowgirls and something other than a gun stored in a holster, with the cowgirls spouting stilted dialogues in robotic monotones, a Sayadian trademark of sorts. Wall of Voodoo's cover of "Ring of Fire" plays over the action (I'm not sure if they paid for the rights, but Delia and Sayadian did direct videos for the band). There's one with a group of bedouins sharing a hookah and then her. There's a giallo-esque scene involving a masked assailant, but this happens after an aborted nightmare about a shrieking man with a hollow chest from his pants emerges a shrivelled up, monstrous baby. Did David Lynch jack off to this? I wouldn't rule it out, folks.

There's a scene where she blows an anthropomorphic box of Cream of Wheat, while a jaunty cover of "Old Man River" plays on the soundtrack and a man dressed as giant piece of toast dances and plays saxopohone. An IMDb user review cites this scene for its cutting racial commentary, but I found this tonally jarring with the rest of the movie. After this, there's a trip to hell where a demon and his minions subject her to such horrific tortures as prodding her with a giant claw and then an even more fearsome double-pronged contraption. The scientists argue over fears that they gave her too much stimulation. ("This woman's on the brink of an orgasm. Let her enjoy it. She doesn't need interruption from a man." "You call it orgasm. I call it breakdown.") The movie then makes way to its final set piece, involving fog, a background of blue sky and pillars and soft piano music. The cinematography in this scene is in stark contrast to the mostly shadowy, intimate imagery of the previous scenes, with the camera pulled up to admire both their bodies and the scene continuing for some time after the climax. It almost brings to mind a certain scene in Jerry Lewis' The Ladies Man that I found disarming in its stylistic and tonal break from the rest of the movie. Without revealing too much, the film's coda sets the record straight.

It probably doesn't say anything flattering about me that I found most of this pretty hot. The movie has a tinge of horror running through it, giving many of the sex scenes (especially the one in hell) a real tension, while the scientific framing device gives it a cold, calculating quality reminiscent of David Cronenberg. (Alas, this doesn't predate some of his most influential films, but for all we know, David Cronenberg jacked off to it as well.) A few of the character names (Mrs. Van Houten, Mrs. Chalmers) make me suspect that Matt Groening might have seen (and jacked off to) it as well. This is pure speculation on my part, but as far as I'm aware, none of them have denied it either. The movie's distinct tone is grounded in an impressive lead performance by Dorothy LeMay. I wasn't all too impressed with her work in Taboo II, but here I think she skillfully evokes the heroine's derangement and "erotic trauma", in the words of the scientists.

Sayadian and Stahl collaborated again for Dr. Caligari, a relatively mainstream effort that also found some success as a midnight movie. I say "relatively" because it's still pretty fucking weird. The movie positions itself as a loose sequel to Robert Wiene's classic The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, this time about the granddaughter of the original Caligari conducting illegal experiments in an insane asylum. From the earlier film it pulls a German expressionist influence, but combines it with a campy, MTV-inflected style to present the asylum as a warped funhouse. The dimensions of the architecture are distorted and full of odd angles, decorated in a mixture of pitch black and gaudy day-glo colours (lots of yellow and pink costumes). This is not a pornographic movie, yet it's hardly less obsessed with sex, as the villain's plan concerns the weaponization of female pleasure. There's also the occasional grotesque sexually-charged image to spice things up, like the sight of a woman with giant, phallic-shaped breasts. Some of the imagery also gives it potency as horror, like an oozing sore or a cake full of intestines. There's a lot of strange, stilted dialogue, as in this exchange:

"Describe your life in three words or less."

"Un-ending torment."

"Elaborate, please."

"Blankety blank blank."

"Thank you for being specific."

This is matched by the angular body language of the villain, played by Madeline Reynal in a deadpan yet very physical performance. This movie also brings into focus a voyeuristic theme, which was present in those earlier movies but didn't seem quite as confrontational in its presentation. A character utters, basically to the audience: "I know you're watching me. I feel your eyes like wet fingers touching me in special places." (This is a line of dialogue that appeared in the next few films I'll talk about.) Truth be told, I was a little exhausted by the sensory overload of Sayadian's style here, and in retrospect appreciate the way the sex scenes act as a counterpoint to his more aggressive tendencies in his more explicit films. But at the same time, this is full of memorable imagery and has a weirdly compelling lead performance. I don't know if there's much else quite like it (or at least operating at this force), so it gets a recommendation.

Sayadian followed up Nightdreams with a few shot-on-video sequels. I skipped Nightdreams 2 as I could only find it in a heavily degraded transfer, but I did make time for Nightdreams 3, which has a self contained story that's essentially a more explicit if relaxed version of Dr. Caligari, once again concerning a doctor conducting sinister experiments at an insane asylum. (This time her experiments mostly involve just fucking her patients and other staff.) There's more of the stilted dialogue, even closer to non sequiturs than they were in the earlier film, with the music by Double Vision providing an off-kilter soundscape to match the weirdness of the dialogue. (Highlights include "My pussy's like an erotic assassin" and "I happen to know she has a thing for longshoremen. Just mention On the Waterfront and she gets randy pants.") The video imagery quite frankly is pretty ugly, with the green carpet and purple drapes that decorate the set looking especially ungainly, yet Sayadian seems aware of this, as when he uses video's flattening effect to create a crude facsimile of a split diopter shot. The video collage style he adopts meshes uneasily with the plot, as if to call out its meaninglessness, giving the whole thing a slight MST3K vibe, especially as characters speak directly to the camera.

Some of these tendencies are honed to a more pleasing form in the two-part Party Doll A Go-Go!, where we spend time with a number of attractive, shapely women in bright coloured lingerie as they spout '60s-inspired dialogue at the viewer in between scenes of copulation. (Not all the dialogue is '60s-tinged, however: "They're overcome with retro wordplay...Us modern girls prefer synthetic future".) Like many pornographic films, this is a collection of loosely related sex scenes, but Sayadian's construction turns those genre requirements into parody, having his characters offer colour commentary (albeit channeled through his campy prose) on their own scenes and even getting interrupted by the stars of subsequent and preceding scenes. The number of quotable lines is even greater than those earlier films, and I admit I was scrambling to write down the choicest ones as there were so many. The best lines go to Jeanna Fine, who also has the huskiest voice and the most penetrating stare, so she was easily my favourite. I certainly was not unmoved when she insisted that she's "never run around buck naked and bubbling for man-winky" or "never wrapped[her] lips around a throbbing johnny". (She does not, however, deny having ever interacted with beef bologna.) Or when she asked the audience "Was I a bad girl?" (said three times in rapid succession) or if we've "ever seen a double orgasm on videotape?" (She adds "Watch, pornhound" and "Calling all porndogs, watch me work, uh-huh.") And I definitely wasn't unmoved when she demonstrated her talents on a dildo dangled in front of her (which she refers to as an "artificial man-thing", a "chubby rubber fella" and a "flying princeton"). No, definitely not unmoved.

There isn't much of plot here, except in the latter half when one of the girls can't stop "the wiggle" and needs to be rescued with an emergency injection of "boy jerky". Sayadian, once again bringing voyeuristic concerns into focus (the characters all talk to the camera), seems to be satirizing the very idea of porn having premises and certain their lazy execution. Even the production design is transparent in its chintz (the movie is shot entirely on the same set, with the bare minimum in alterations to the set dressing to make it look even slightly different), while the video images, which feature lots of Dutch angles, zooms and whip pans, match the campiness of the whole affair. This is probably a little long at a combined 2+ hours, but at the same time, it settles into a nice groove and is full of really attractive and reasonably charismatic actresses delivering amusing dialogue and indulging in "girl homo" (sometimes "big time girl homo") or getting "boy jerky". I don't have much interest in delving into '90s pornography and shot-on-video productions strain the dignity one can feel while trying to watch pornographic films as actual movies, but I'm not gonna pretend I didn't have a good time with this.