Take Off (1978)

This magnificent yet still massively underrated adult movie’s famously based on Oscar Wilde’s ironically timeless The Picture of Dorian Gray, already the subject of many straight film versions, using that narrative as a framework to spoof a number of Hollywood classics and their iconic stars such as James Cagney, Humphrey Bogart and Marlon Brando. Commencing at a present day (well, circa 1978 anyway) pool party where no one seems to know the host, lusty Linda (radiant yet often outrageously overlooked Lesllie Bovee) retreats to the palatial mansion with cowboy Ray (stalwart Eric Edwards) for nookie when she accidentally turns on an old movie projector. Before their disbelieving eyes unspools a reel of passionate poking between a 1920s flapper and her decrepit old paramour. Losing Ray once they’re out of the house, Linda finally meets their elusive host, handsome Darrin Blue (career performance plus for the late Wade Nichols, who passed away from AIDS in the early days of 1985) who begins to tell her his mighty strange life story. As the young lover of freethinking socialite Henrietta Wilde (another awardhogging turn from the legendary Georgina Spelvin) in 1922, he was first confronted with his youthful beauty – the value thereof his mature mistress rarely hesitated to emphasize – when she had their lovemaking surreptitiously filmed by her chauffeur. As the elder Henrietta bemoans the inevitable decay that time will bring, Darrin utters the wish that not he but his image on film should age instead. Be careful what you whish for indeed…

The four intervening decades are presented as perfectly crafted miniature movies, affectionately sending up cinematic genres of the period with manic humor that may not suit everyone’s tastes but should score with fans of early Zucker and Abrahams.  Think Airplane and especially Top Secret! The ’30s tackle gangster movies with John Dillinger (Rayman Sharque) and a platinum blonde Hollywood hopeful named “Jean Harlot” (played by one shot wonder Brigette Lynne), Blue’s moll for the occasion (marvellous, under-appreciated Clea Carson, always a stellar second banana in Bill Lustig’s disquieting Violation of Claudia and Chuck Vincent’s slightly overblown Bad Penny) taking a cream cheese bagel rather than a grapefruit to the kisser, referencing Cagney’s Public Enemy. Casablanca predictably hogs the ’40s segment, with tons of Bogey and Bacall and Raymond Chandler nods thrown in for good measure. Virginia Slimms (Annette Haven at the height of pristine perfection) is trying to secure passports for her unseen husband and his unruly teenage daughter (Ursula Austin, star of Doris Wishman’s rare if not quite singular explicit foray Come With Me, My Love and solid sex support in Bill Milling’s delirious Blonde Velvet and his old nemesis Shaun Costello’s That Lady From Rio, incidentally spy spoofs both) with cult drag queen Holly Woodlawn guesting as a very frisky torch singer.

Toothsome Susaye London (still another largely ignored if invariably inspired starlet from Carter Stevens’s sleeper Honeymoon Haven and Jim Buckley’s frisky yet seemingly forgotten Teenage Pajama Party) dons a yellow polka dot bikini for the ’50s with Rebel Without a Cause – or should that be The Wild One ? – Darrin rescuing her from a group of raging hormone youths (spot Peter Andrews and a pseudonymous Peter Scolari, to gain fame as the befuddled leading man and Rick Moranis replacement in Disney’s Honey, I Shrunk the Kids TV spin-off !) before collecting his due reward. The ’60s are for drugs and hippies like angelfaced Costello find Patty Boyd who changed moniker by the movie, black starlet Gloria Todd (from the three shades of skin Sapphic threesome with Ming Toy and the film’s titular star in Joe Sarno’s All About Gloria Leonard), ravishing Beth Anna (Vincent’s Dirty Lilly herself) and future Pussyman David Christopher.

Lamenting the inevitable passing of time and his inability to form a lasting romantic connection because of his unchanging youthfulness, Darrin makes sweet love to Linda near the now deserted moonlit pool. Inside, there’s a doddering old lady watching his dirty home movie one last time before it turns to dust. Henrietta’s return makes for an unexpectedly poignant conclusion to this sterling sex flick, singled out by no less an (albeit perhaps self-appointed…) authority than Bill Margold as the best porn film ever made, surpassing – his words, not mine – Radley Metzger’s deemed untouchable The Opening of Misty Beethoven in artistry and awesomeness.  If anything, Take Off must surely rank as one of very few films that are almost too ambitious, its lofty aspirations apparently scaring off initial audiences as it actually lost money on its first theatrical run, now hard to imagine. Dialogue is frequently inspired and witty, forcing viewers to pay attention even while everyone’s fully clothed. Production proves as impressive as adult was ever gonna get, soon to become mainstream DoP Joao Fernandes finally reverting back to his real name after many years toiling in the trenches as “Harry Flecks” for Gerard Damiano mostly. The sepia-tinted 1920s sequence looks particularly stunning. Cult band Elephant’s Memory contributes a varied score, perfectly suited to each time frame, with even a catchy title song you’ll be humming for a long time afterwards.

With a copious cast list that reads like a virtual Who’s Who of Golden Age porn (also keep your eyes peeled during the elaborate ’70s swimming pool sequence for Vanessa Del Rio as a blink or miss blowjob extra and fleeting love birds Susan and Mark Le Beau who appeared in Carter’s Punk Rock as well), it’s little wonder that the acting stands as some of the best this genre has ever seen. Hunky Nichols really holds the film together as Darrin, imbuing the character with a tragic loneliness – those sad, haunted eyes were rarely put to better use (although Chuck’s startling Visions runs a really close second) – tempered by his various cute movie star impressions. Sex ranging from tender to passionate is stylish and steamy but never raunchy, making this another perfect pick for couples wishing to heat up their nighttime viewing. Annette will take your breath away in her exquisitely lit bedroom romp with Wade, not to mention her staircase Sapphic with unsung Ursula. From opening to closing credits, this is one tough act to follow, the late Armand Weston’s crowning achievement to an impressive career yet to receive appropriate praise.

Directed by Armand Weston. Written by Weston and Daria Price. Produced by Weston and Robert Sumner for Maturpix. Photographed by Joao Fernandes. Music by Elephant’s Memory. Edited by Arthur Marx. Starring Wade Nichols (Darrin Blue), Georgina Spelvin (Henrietta Wilde), Annette Haven (Virginia Slimms), Lesllie Bovee (Linda), Susaye London (Dottie), Patty Boyd (Jane), Eric Edwards (Roy), Clea Carson (Faye), Brigette Lynne (Jean Harlot), Ursula Austin (Virginia’s Stepdaughter), Beth Anna (Sunshine), Gloria Todd (Angela), David Christopher (Free), Rayman Sharque (John Dillinger), Holly Woodlawn (Torch Singer), Dick Galan (Whitey), Bill Nunnery (Louie), W.P. Dremak (Nazi Captain), Alexis Del Lago (Nazi Major), Cami Graham (Jane’s Mom), Ken Burns (Jane’s Dad), Marcia Minor (Poolside Musician), Patricia Dale (Poolside Coke Client), Vanessa Del Rio (Poolside Pole Smoker), Susan & Mark Le Beau (Poolside Couple), Peter Andrews (Frankie) & Peter Scolari (Kookie). Running time : 103 minutes.

By Dries Vermeulen