It's Westchester, a tony suburb of New York City, in the 1970s and two young women are jealous of one another and wrestling in a spacious back yard swimming pool, splashing about, tearing their tops off, bobbing around, screaming. And from the sliding glass door of the modern house, two brothers are watching with interest. The younger brother, John Savage, says to the other, "You must be some kind of man to have two women fighting over you." I don't know why the older brother should be considered special in any way. It happens to me all the time. Every time I find myself in the presence of two women -- even strangers -- they begin fighting over me and tearing each other's brassieres off. In a crowd, this becomes unbearable. I took to avoiding subways.
Well, this is drive-in fodder. Kids, drive-ins were outdoor movie theaters in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s. You could park your car in one of the rows, turn on your internal speaker, make out with your date and fog up the windows. This arrangement had definite advantages over ordinary movie theaters, which resembled those that are now called "multiplexes." Instead of a vast public arena, you sat in your tiny mobile house in which the front seat served as the parlor and the back seat the bed room.
Oh -- the movie? As far as I could make out, John Savage, never a bravura actor, returns from a year and a half of bumming around the world to find his brother and sister-in-law estranged. The sister-in-law immediately comes on to Savage, fondling him in public, tickling his crotch with her bare toes in a restaurant -- even when the still-jealous older brother is present. Something about drugs follows, involving Italianate goons. And there's another younger girl drawn in, more naive than the sister-in-law, and the younger girl takes her top off and makes love to Savage too.
Not that there's that much nudity. And what there is of it isn't extraordinarily erotic because you never lose the sense that these are two actors making believe. The coitus, at its most graphic, is tastefully suggested and the editor always cuts away before the point of ejaculatory inevitability is reached.
I suppose movies like this served their function at the time, perhaps as a make-out aid. I can't imagine that anyone in the drive-in really cared what happened to any of the characters.
Well, this is drive-in fodder. Kids, drive-ins were outdoor movie theaters in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s. You could park your car in one of the rows, turn on your internal speaker, make out with your date and fog up the windows. This arrangement had definite advantages over ordinary movie theaters, which resembled those that are now called "multiplexes." Instead of a vast public arena, you sat in your tiny mobile house in which the front seat served as the parlor and the back seat the bed room.
Oh -- the movie? As far as I could make out, John Savage, never a bravura actor, returns from a year and a half of bumming around the world to find his brother and sister-in-law estranged. The sister-in-law immediately comes on to Savage, fondling him in public, tickling his crotch with her bare toes in a restaurant -- even when the still-jealous older brother is present. Something about drugs follows, involving Italianate goons. And there's another younger girl drawn in, more naive than the sister-in-law, and the younger girl takes her top off and makes love to Savage too.
Not that there's that much nudity. And what there is of it isn't extraordinarily erotic because you never lose the sense that these are two actors making believe. The coitus, at its most graphic, is tastefully suggested and the editor always cuts away before the point of ejaculatory inevitability is reached.
I suppose movies like this served their function at the time, perhaps as a make-out aid. I can't imagine that anyone in the drive-in really cared what happened to any of the characters.