Director Sidney Knight rounded up much of the cast from his successful softcore opus I Feel It Coming and overreached with Morning After... This overwritten, flashback-laden melodrama fails to make the transition from softcore to hardcore and indicates how his career was deadending. He did go on to make the classic hardcore "confrontation" film The Debauchers, but after that, exit stage left.
Patrick Wright, once again using his Sammy Cole pseudonym, toplines as John Hickman, a nightclub owner who arrives home finding his live-in sister Gay (Jean Parker) on her bed, stabbed to death. He calls the cops and is interrogated at great length by a poorly-cast David Marcus who doesn't look for a moment like a police inspector. In a "real" film this would be a red herring, but in porn this is just who-cares convenience.
Intent on identifying his sister's killer, John seeks info from the likeliest suspect, his partner at the nightclub Larry (Paul Matthews), who was not only Gay's employer (she worked as a stripper at the club) but had also slept with her. He also grills his dad (Dandy Thomas) and Gay's coworker at the club Maureen (Linda Shall), with flashbacks illustrating the story and letting the viewer know what actually happened.
Unusual for porn is the use of pages & pages of sides, as actors like Wright and Marcus have to handle tons of dialog. Some are inadequate to the task, notably Parker, who looks beautiful but can't act a lick, and Matthews, who strays off the reservation and delivers many an awkward, ad libbed line. Wright is professional throughout, and displays why he was one of the most dependable soft porn performers working for Russ Meyer, Knight and later in many B movies and on TV.
The frequent sex scenes here are simulated, except for one lengthy flashback in which a dissimilar actress is supposed to be portraying Gay having sex with a young man, caught in the act (and beaten up) by her angry dad. This hardcore footage was undoubtedly key to getting the film booked but seems tacked on, and makes one wonder why there is no effort (not even a matching wig) to make it seem like the same character.
Film is lame in the extreme as a mystery, and apparently was meant to merely stimulate the fans with circa 1970 softcore sex, plus the added (afterthought?) bit of hardcore content. Casting of Parker, Thomas, Marcus and Matthews ruins the effort of Wright to prop up the story, as their incompetence in major roles is impossible to ignore and destroys any involvement the viewer might drum up.
Production values read cheap: just a couple of interiors dressed with lots of posters and wall art, and a perfunctory nightclub setting for Parker to strip in.
Patrick Wright, once again using his Sammy Cole pseudonym, toplines as John Hickman, a nightclub owner who arrives home finding his live-in sister Gay (Jean Parker) on her bed, stabbed to death. He calls the cops and is interrogated at great length by a poorly-cast David Marcus who doesn't look for a moment like a police inspector. In a "real" film this would be a red herring, but in porn this is just who-cares convenience.
Intent on identifying his sister's killer, John seeks info from the likeliest suspect, his partner at the nightclub Larry (Paul Matthews), who was not only Gay's employer (she worked as a stripper at the club) but had also slept with her. He also grills his dad (Dandy Thomas) and Gay's coworker at the club Maureen (Linda Shall), with flashbacks illustrating the story and letting the viewer know what actually happened.
Unusual for porn is the use of pages & pages of sides, as actors like Wright and Marcus have to handle tons of dialog. Some are inadequate to the task, notably Parker, who looks beautiful but can't act a lick, and Matthews, who strays off the reservation and delivers many an awkward, ad libbed line. Wright is professional throughout, and displays why he was one of the most dependable soft porn performers working for Russ Meyer, Knight and later in many B movies and on TV.
The frequent sex scenes here are simulated, except for one lengthy flashback in which a dissimilar actress is supposed to be portraying Gay having sex with a young man, caught in the act (and beaten up) by her angry dad. This hardcore footage was undoubtedly key to getting the film booked but seems tacked on, and makes one wonder why there is no effort (not even a matching wig) to make it seem like the same character.
Film is lame in the extreme as a mystery, and apparently was meant to merely stimulate the fans with circa 1970 softcore sex, plus the added (afterthought?) bit of hardcore content. Casting of Parker, Thomas, Marcus and Matthews ruins the effort of Wright to prop up the story, as their incompetence in major roles is impossible to ignore and destroys any involvement the viewer might drum up.
Production values read cheap: just a couple of interiors dressed with lots of posters and wall art, and a perfunctory nightclub setting for Parker to strip in.