The Touch of Her Flesh (1967)
Director: Michael Findlay
Starring: Suzanne Marre, Angelique, Michael Findlay, Vivian Del Rio, Peggy Steffans, Ron Skideri, Rit Dexter, Sally Farb
By request. The first movie of Findlay's infamous "Flesh" trilogy. The other two films will follow.
When Richard Jennings forgets his motivational speech on the way to Boston, he comes home to catch his cuckolding wife creating the Filthy Sanchez with some lame-o. The sight of his spouse doing the deceptive bends makes the bulky businessman go completely batshit and he runs out into traffic. Car crashing ensues. Minus one eye, the use of his legs, and a huge portion of male ego, our wheelchair bound bozo has an arthouse-inspired anxiety/insanity freak out attack and decides that he wants only one thing in life: revenge against all women! So he offs a go-go dancer with a toxic rose, he shoots a stripper with a blowgun, and slices up a prostitute in her personal retail merchandise. When he finally corners his old lady, she's shacked up with some blousy redhead in a woodworking shed. One Norm Abrams moment later, and a table saw decapitation ensues. He is finally felled with his own crossbow. And it's all because of his life partner and the fact that some other man knew The Touch of Her Flesh.
"Beware, oh lovers of the exploitation genre, for nothing you have ever seen in the long lineage of crass cinematic conspiracies has prepared you for the unbridled squalidness and downright artsy fartsy insanity of The Flesh Trilogy. Oh sure, you say, you've sat through hundreds of hours of this mind-bending bedlam. You survived Dave Friedman and Herschell Gordon Lewis' nudie and gore flicks. You managed to maintain awareness through untold hours of Harry Novak's profane soft-core corn pone and show no visible adverse effects. Heck, you've even enjoyed Bill Grefe's swamp serenades and the collected oeuvres of Doris Wishman, William Girdler, and the Arch Halls, Senior and Junior. Well, just imagine a movie that combines deviant sex; semi-linear storytelling; badly looped dialogue; lots of cocktail waitresses in various states of undress; inventive, mean-spirited murders; and a psychotic killer who is a combination of Jason Voorhees, Richard Speck, Tiny Tim, and a post gin bloat Ed Wood, and you have just a smidgen of what this trio of tawdry tales are like. Some have labeled the series of sinful salvos "ghoulies," in keeping with the "nudies/roughies" moniker system. But perhaps a more accurate label would be "snuffies," since they are absolutely drenched in the decadence of madman Richard Jennings' various modi della morte. Indeed, if it wasn't for all the naked naughtiness going on and the extended strip/shark/skank scenes that interrupt the narrative blood flow, we'd be witnessing the birth of the fiend specific slasher film in all its gory glory. Only problem is, the Flesh films substitute semen for the sanguine and end up as the godfather to the gross out genre, not for the attack of brutality shown, but for the hideous pallor of the people doing the bare bodkin boogie.
Indeed, these demented detours into the slimy subconscious of a tormented titty twister can best be described as silliness slapped with sordidness with a good health dose of sexually transmitted unease added in. Husband and wife filmmaking team of Michael and Roberta Findlay (he writes, directs, and stars as Jennings; she writes and operates the camera) create a private universe where humans are only filled with vice and viciousness. It's a place where nothing is better than seedy and everything looks grimy with filth. Indeed, many of the sets used here (the woodshop in Touch, the lesbian household in Kiss) look like abandoned crime scenes. Along with the completely gratuitous sex and violence and deranged voice-over ramblings of our crazed killer, The Flesh Trilogy can seem like standard grindhouse fodder. But it's the little touches that turn these films into lost but not forgotten overly ripe gems of gaminess. The opening credits are either superimposed onto naked bodies or scrawled like lame jokes on bathroom walls. Sometimes Jennings sports a pirate eye patch. Other times he looks ocularly intact. In order to avoid the obvious lack of on set sound recording in two of the films (Curse is the normal one), characters only speak when another individual's reaction shot is show (much in the Wishman style of line hiding)." - DVD Verdict
GSpot v2.70a avi file details:
Filesize.....: 744,717,100 bytes
Runtime......: 1:14:46 (107544 frames)
Video Codec..: XviD 1.1.2 Final (B-VOP//)
Video Bitrate: 1210 kbps
Aspect Ratio.: 608x460 (1.322)
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Audio Bitrate: 105kbps 2ch VBR 48000Hz