The flimsy plot for this uproariously breezy'n'cheesy porno dazzler has poor Tarzan (cheerfully overplayed by prolific 70's drive-in picture perennial Patrick Wright, who sports a really obvious fake wig), depicted here as an absolute feather-headed goofball who's all brawn and no brains, suffer a hilariously nasty run-in with a ravenous crocodile: the flesh-chomping lizard bites off Tarzan's manhood (ouch!) when Tarz wrestles the beast in a river. So Tarzan, his ditsy, oversexed distaff companion Jane (an endearingly daffy Tallie Cochrane, Wright's real-life wife), and their lunkhead son Boy (some vacuous California surfer dude type who calls himself Uncle Tom) embark on a perilous pilgrimage to Wango Wango Land in order to get Tarzan another penis. Prior to their Wango Wango journey Jane gets attacked by Tarzan's libidinous off-the-wall gorilla buddy Cheetah (a frantically mugging Sam Clemente Richard in your standard crappy, pudgy, not-believable-for-a-minute ape costume), who does just what you think with Jane. Tarzan and his companions also rescue aggressive explorer Wanda the Huntress (deftly essayed by the scorchingly hot and assertive 70's hardcore queen Georgina Spelvin of "The Devil in Miss Jones" fame) and her wimpy, effeminate gay assistant Clive from a savage tribe of coarse jive-talking African-American stereotypes. Everything ends well, with Tarzan getting jumped by both Wanda and Jane after acquiring a massive new phallus from a local witch doctor who performs a ridiculous spiritual dance for Tarzan.
This highly stupid, but often side-splitting tongue-in-cheek sex romp stands as a towering, often insanely funny, and always stupendously ludicrous celluloid monument to characteristically irreverent and uninhibited anything goes Me Decade silliness, boasting no less than two puerile disco songs by Alfie Smith, a suitably lowbrow sense of free and easy dirty humor that never comes close to being either remotely subtle or sophisticated, the guy in the frumpy ape suit doing an absurd Richard Nixon impersonation, unsparingly profane dialogue that's rife with inane double entendres, a marvelously politically incorrect caricature of mincing homosexuals, brazen broadside japes about urinating off the side of trees, castration, forced sodomy from a salacious simian, rape, incest, and corn cobs being used in a most bawdy way, and more sizzling copulation and bared flesh than you can shake a spear at. In other words, this movie overall rates as a whole lot of nice'n'naughty no-brainer fun.
This highly stupid, but often side-splitting tongue-in-cheek sex romp stands as a towering, often insanely funny, and always stupendously ludicrous celluloid monument to characteristically irreverent and uninhibited anything goes Me Decade silliness, boasting no less than two puerile disco songs by Alfie Smith, a suitably lowbrow sense of free and easy dirty humor that never comes close to being either remotely subtle or sophisticated, the guy in the frumpy ape suit doing an absurd Richard Nixon impersonation, unsparingly profane dialogue that's rife with inane double entendres, a marvelously politically incorrect caricature of mincing homosexuals, brazen broadside japes about urinating off the side of trees, castration, forced sodomy from a salacious simian, rape, incest, and corn cobs being used in a most bawdy way, and more sizzling copulation and bared flesh than you can shake a spear at. In other words, this movie overall rates as a whole lot of nice'n'naughty no-brainer fun.