User Reviews

SPOILERS INCLUDED Mike Findlay's most famous hour Snuff (1971/77) was a novelty gimmick and long disowned by its director before it became one, but the claim that the final killing was real was taken very seriously in some quarters. We now know that the FBI investigated the film at length and the premiere boasted two undercover FBI agents amongst the audience. The real Mike Findlay however can be found in his late Sixties sexploitation work. So shocking was his 'of her flesh' series that they were remembered years after their initial run. Not as well known as Snuff or the 'of her flesh' series, A Thousand Pleasures is prime Findlay. His take on the War of the Sexes, Findlay himself stars as Richard Davis, an old crow drinking Findlay misogynist who in a scene resurrected for Shriek of the Mutilated butchers his wife with a kitchen knife after she berates his worthlessness. The credits roll, accompanied by gyrations from a chubby stripper, the credits themselves are a jungle of Findlay pseudonyms, wife Roberta photographed the film as Anna Riva, while one man band Findlay directs under the name Julian Marsh, acts as Robert Wuesterwurst, and takes editing duties as Richard Jennings, the name of the misogynist anti hero of A Touch of Her Flesh. Findlay takes to the road narrating in a mock film noir fashion 'go slow Davis, you better not get stopped for speeding WITH A DEAD BODY IN THE BACK'. He does however pick up two hitchhikers Maggie and Jackie despite his old lady's body in the back seat. The pair are however 'fruitcakes' Jackie amorously tackles Mike in a matter that isn't advisable whilst driving, and when Maggie finds the body its not screams that reach Mike but laughter 'guess what Jackie, he's our boy, he's coming home with us'. Mike is taken to an island to meet the girls 'family' best described as the nasty side of women's lib meeting the Old Dark House clan. Maggie and Jackie are two lovers, their child 'Little Baby' is in fact a fully grown retarded woman dressed in a diaper who sleeps in a crib. The ensemble is rounded off by their butler who likes to watch, and a voluptuous black girl who Mike christens Boobarella. Soon sexual politics and violence rear their heads, Mike gets heavy handed with baby, the girls can barely hide their misandry and 'the fat creep' is poisoned 'I'll fix his smartass'. Held captive, Mike discovers their plan- Maggie and Jackie are out to destroy men by breeding women without assistance. Little Baby was their first attempt but its not worked out, so they've decided on artificial insemination and guess who the donor is going to be? In the meantime they hide the dead wife to stop Mike from escaping, but that he does, only to be brought back to the 'naked Amazons' hit in the crotch with a spatula, have his feet put in the fire and a cigarette put out on his face. A Thousand Pleasures climaxes with the most bizarre carnage that Mike Findlay or anyone for that matter has ever dared shoot. As the characters lay each other out, Mike gets the upper hand 'I've had enough of all you pigs' slashes Baby to death, strangles Jackie before Boobarella suffocates Mike to death using her breasts. Mike Findlay's life had an ending as horrific and grim to match any of his films, but when he stepped behind the camera the results leave fellow exploitation filmmakers in the dust. Findlay films like A Touch of Her Flesh act as time capsules of places and times now consigned to the history books. In one of his last films Virgins in Heat (aka Wet and Wild) a ski masked psycho forces 42nd Street projectionist 'Richard Jennings' into showing him loops convinced his sister is appearing in them. The film is a love letter to 42nd Street with marquees for Heavy Load, Divine Obsession and (ho-hum) Snuff. A Thousand Pleasures is poised somewhere between a male fantasy about being controlled and literally smothered by women and New York humour, you are never sure whether you should laugh or fear for Findlay's sanity. Roly poly with a Boho goatee and dark around the eyes, Findlay cuts a disturbing figure- he looks like he hasn't slept in months, the two girls play out their man-haters for all its worth, yet crazed as they all are Little Baby is the character most likely to remain with you, her idiot child and sex maniac mannerisms are a deeply shocking combo. So much of A Thousand Pleasures is otherworldly, classical music bedfellows the overheated action, most of the dialogue is post synched while Findlay's narration is delivered like a gin ridden carnival showman 'they took me to an island off Cape Ann that turned out to be more like THE CRAZY HOUSE'. Most 60's sexploitation movies now seem innocuous or camp but Findlay's will remain forever disreputable. We are told we now live in a more liberal society but it takes a thirty plus year old movie like A Thousand Pleasures to shake us back into realising that the opposite is true. If he was still around today what would Findlay make of the fall of 42nd Street or that a film about lap dancing would be considered controversial. Released today A Thousand Pleasures wouldn't just be a hot potato it would be an erupting volcano.

The preservation of Mike & Roberta Findlay's cinematic extravagances (thanks mainly to Mike Vraney at Something Weird Video) is the result, undoubtedly, of their camp value. These films aren't well-made by anyone's standards (though Roberta was no slouch as a cinematographer, in my opinion). The dialog is patently awful, the story lines thin, the acting atrocious. We accept that. But the reason to watch these films isn't to have some "so bad it's good" fun. Instead, the real reason these films should fascinate the viewer is that we're getting inside the mind(s) of some really disturbed folks.

I see Mike Findlay as a guy with a lot of inner demons swimming around inside his (formerly attached) head and who got a chance to bring these demons to the screen. This wasn't a hack churning out movies he didn't believe in. Rather, you get the sense that this guy was completely into what he was putting up on the screen, much more so than he had to. "A Night of A Thousand Pleasures" particularly illustrates this concept, since the perversions taking place on screen are so intense in their fetishism and tied together by the thinnest possible threads. It's as though Mike Findlay had the means to bring his darkest fantasies to a vision and is allowing us inside his twisted head (with the same lack of regard to continuity that real fantasies have). That Roberta was his willing partner makes the matter even more deeper and complex, and inspires tremendous curiosity as to the nature of their relationship. (Add this to the fact that so little is really known about them - singularly or individually.) Don't watch this film for the plot. Don't watch it for the gratuitous sex and violence. Don't watch it for any sort of technical cinematic curiosity. Watch is to see inside the head of a madman.

Henpecked misogynist Richard Davies (Michael Findlay in peak slimy form) murders his shrewish wife (a brief appearance by Roberta Findlay) and goes out to dispose of her corpse. However, things go awry for Richard after he's abducted by a pair of insane lesbians who take him to their house where they keep a grown woman called Baby (cute blonde Kim Lewid) in a crib. Boy, does the almighty dimestore sleaze cinema twosome of Michael and Roberta Findlay really hit it out of the ballpark with their patented no-holds-barred raw and loopy depravity: We've got rampant explicit nudity, lesbianism, implied fellatio, whippings, infantilism, voyeurism, steamy soft-core sex, sadism, and a nasty violent conclusion which packs one hell of a savage punch. In fact, the stark perversity showcased herein gives this beautifully bent, batty, and berserk dilly a special kind of warped kick. Uta Erickson and Linda Boyce are super hot as the lesbians while buxom Donna Stone provides quite a deliciously voluptuous eyeful as the aptly named Boobarella. Roberta Findlay's sharp black and white cinematography gives this picture a suitably seedy noir look. The groovy free-form jazz score hits the bopping spot. Good sick fun.