A faux travelogue that mixes documentary and mockumentary footage. The camera looks through a one-way glass into the women's dressing room at a lingerie shop, visits a Kyoto massage parlor, goes inside the mailroom at Frederick's of Hollywood, watches an Australian who sticks nails through his skin and eats glass, checks out the art and peace scene in Los Angeles, takes in Easter week with vacationing college students on Balboa Island, observes a German audience enjoying a play about Nazi sadism, and, with the help of powerful military lenses, spies on a Lebanese white-slavery auction.
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Reviews
Terrible acting, screenplay and direction.
I don't have all the words right now but this film is a work of art.
Wow! What a bizarre film! Unfortunately the few funny moments there were were quite overshadowed by it's completely weird and random vibe throughout.
Actress is magnificent and exudes a hypnotic screen presence in this affecting drama.
This clearly faked mondo shock documentary purports to reveal various seamy and shocking practices that were reportedly filmed with hidden cameras. Director Lee Frost and producer Bob Cresse naturally use the premise as an excuse to show oodles of gratuitous female nudity and play up the more lurid aspects of said premise to the pleasing ninth degree. Among the sordid sights to be savored herein are a visit to Frederick's of Hollywood, male hustlers selling their bodies on a street corner, a secret nocturnal voodoo ceremony in the Bahamas, a guy named Jack Schwartz who lies on a bed of nails and jams unsterilized needles in his body without bleeding, a smoking hot topless go-go dancing model posing for swingin' artist Vito, a sleazy foray to a Japanese massage parlor, a sadistic play about Nazis performed in front of an enraptured audience in Germany, and, best of all, a highly suspect Arab slave auction that was staged in Bronson Canyon with Cresse playing one of the Arabs selling naked women from the back of a flatbed truck. Narrator Claude Emmand does a deliciously overripe third-rate Boris Karloff imitation. The soundtrack of insanely groovy garage rock songs hits the right-on spot. A real hokey hoot.
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