ROOM AND BROAD is a pretentious porn movie, resurrected after 25 years in the vaults by Something Weird in 1993, and immediately lapsed back into deserved obscurity. It's out of print again, recently reverting back to original distributor Distribpix, who will probably not be foolhardy enough to reissue it again.
The self-described "film historian" Casey who shilled for the SWV liner notes dithers on about its glorious merits, wondering rhetorically why director Graham Place is unsung. The reasons are evident in the desultory and tedious film itself.
It opens explicitly as a "kitchen sink" drama, the sort of picture popular in England in the '60s as a new realism was hitting the screen. Camera pans around an ugly kitchen with the sink dripping loudly, setting a downbeat mood.
Format is that of a one-act play, though the writing is not up to off-Broadway standards (in fact, no writing credit is listed at all). Jerry and Susan have been married for six months and he's currently unemployed, a dislikable, morose character who takes his disappointments out on her. She's a victim of constant sexual harassment (the verbal kind) by her creepy boss Mr. Hope who's come-on is lame in the extreme.
Drama gets underway quickly with the sudden arrival at their door of Harriet, a girl Susan grew up with back in Bilton (not specified where that fictional burg is supposed to be), unseen for six years. Poorly structured film has Susan rushing off to work, leaving hubby and Harriet together, for purely porn plotting purposes.
SPOILERS ALERT:
Potential for any suspense is immediately destroyed as the overplaying Harriet immediately lays her evil cards on the table early in the opening reel. She's always hated Susan (reason why is saved for later) and is scheming to ruin her life. She basically tells Jerry this, noting that they had already met two years back when both were working as prostitutes (he termed a gigolo, of course) at the Tahiti club.
Remainder of the dreary opus is watching Harriet's plan come to fruition, as modest Susan goes in the course of two weeks from prude to nympho slut/prostitute, in utterly unconvincing scenes. Sloppy movie has the very next scene after "two weeks" is mentioned contradict this, as her husband has been hunting for the missing Susan for "three months", a needlessly confusing gaffe. Sex is utterly tame, with topless footage and some minor groping, but nothing for a 1968 gutter-level porn audience to enjoy.
Making matters worse, the dialog here is stilted and non-colloquial, seemingly written by someone addicted to 19th Century literature but unable to adapt the flowery writing style to a modern ('60s) idiom. Each of the two feminine leads even gets a lengthy soliloquy to recite late in the picture in which each recalls those days back in Bilton, conjuring up some Julie Harris one-woman-show on Broadway gone terribly wrong.
This provides the turgid piece's only moment of hilarity: Harriet is recounting her teen years growing up, pouring her heart out to her regular john, a bearded crumb named Gil. Halfway through her boring spiel Gil announces: "I gotta run" and leaves hurriedly, but the audience is forced to remain, as she goes on regardless, narrating the very timidly staged gang-rape (no nudity), for which she's blamed Susan all these years, since Susan's frustrated boy friend instigated it.
Picture ends in a boring orgy sequence, de rigeur for porn of this era, photographed sloppily with hand-held camera bobbing about to try and make it seem interesting. Claustrophobic filming never ventures out of doors, and the interior sets are relentlessly dreary. Casey the shill never lets the video buyer know that SWV used a negative or print that had degraded, with many interior scenes whited-out to the point of blankness.
Finale is particularly miserable, as director Place botches his last chance to redeem the movie. Harriet's arranged it so that hubby will arrive at the big party at Gil's place, to see wife Susan's ultimate degradation. He's already seen porn photos of Susan that Harriet has spread all over the place (very tame indeed, however), and gotten drunk as a result. But supposedly when he shows up and sees Susan dancing around topless he's thunderstruck. This idiotic climax has everyone suddenly freezing in place, with Mr. Hope asking Harriet: "How does vengeance feel?" and "THE END" superimposed on screen as Harriet slowly reaches out in vain to somehow connect with Susan.
That's off-Broadway clumsiness at its worst. Acting is poor, ranging from the flat, incompetent readings of "Jerry" and the sniggering double-entendre delivery of Mr. Hope to Harriet's alternately dull readings and bursts of overacting to Susan's inability to make any of her instant transitions believable. (Actors all get pseudonyms, not matched to their fictional roles.) For porn hounds, the actresses cast here are unattractive and not even well-built.
The self-described "film historian" Casey who shilled for the SWV liner notes dithers on about its glorious merits, wondering rhetorically why director Graham Place is unsung. The reasons are evident in the desultory and tedious film itself.
It opens explicitly as a "kitchen sink" drama, the sort of picture popular in England in the '60s as a new realism was hitting the screen. Camera pans around an ugly kitchen with the sink dripping loudly, setting a downbeat mood.
Format is that of a one-act play, though the writing is not up to off-Broadway standards (in fact, no writing credit is listed at all). Jerry and Susan have been married for six months and he's currently unemployed, a dislikable, morose character who takes his disappointments out on her. She's a victim of constant sexual harassment (the verbal kind) by her creepy boss Mr. Hope who's come-on is lame in the extreme.
Drama gets underway quickly with the sudden arrival at their door of Harriet, a girl Susan grew up with back in Bilton (not specified where that fictional burg is supposed to be), unseen for six years. Poorly structured film has Susan rushing off to work, leaving hubby and Harriet together, for purely porn plotting purposes.
SPOILERS ALERT:
Potential for any suspense is immediately destroyed as the overplaying Harriet immediately lays her evil cards on the table early in the opening reel. She's always hated Susan (reason why is saved for later) and is scheming to ruin her life. She basically tells Jerry this, noting that they had already met two years back when both were working as prostitutes (he termed a gigolo, of course) at the Tahiti club.
Remainder of the dreary opus is watching Harriet's plan come to fruition, as modest Susan goes in the course of two weeks from prude to nympho slut/prostitute, in utterly unconvincing scenes. Sloppy movie has the very next scene after "two weeks" is mentioned contradict this, as her husband has been hunting for the missing Susan for "three months", a needlessly confusing gaffe. Sex is utterly tame, with topless footage and some minor groping, but nothing for a 1968 gutter-level porn audience to enjoy.
Making matters worse, the dialog here is stilted and non-colloquial, seemingly written by someone addicted to 19th Century literature but unable to adapt the flowery writing style to a modern ('60s) idiom. Each of the two feminine leads even gets a lengthy soliloquy to recite late in the picture in which each recalls those days back in Bilton, conjuring up some Julie Harris one-woman-show on Broadway gone terribly wrong.
This provides the turgid piece's only moment of hilarity: Harriet is recounting her teen years growing up, pouring her heart out to her regular john, a bearded crumb named Gil. Halfway through her boring spiel Gil announces: "I gotta run" and leaves hurriedly, but the audience is forced to remain, as she goes on regardless, narrating the very timidly staged gang-rape (no nudity), for which she's blamed Susan all these years, since Susan's frustrated boy friend instigated it.
Picture ends in a boring orgy sequence, de rigeur for porn of this era, photographed sloppily with hand-held camera bobbing about to try and make it seem interesting. Claustrophobic filming never ventures out of doors, and the interior sets are relentlessly dreary. Casey the shill never lets the video buyer know that SWV used a negative or print that had degraded, with many interior scenes whited-out to the point of blankness.
Finale is particularly miserable, as director Place botches his last chance to redeem the movie. Harriet's arranged it so that hubby will arrive at the big party at Gil's place, to see wife Susan's ultimate degradation. He's already seen porn photos of Susan that Harriet has spread all over the place (very tame indeed, however), and gotten drunk as a result. But supposedly when he shows up and sees Susan dancing around topless he's thunderstruck. This idiotic climax has everyone suddenly freezing in place, with Mr. Hope asking Harriet: "How does vengeance feel?" and "THE END" superimposed on screen as Harriet slowly reaches out in vain to somehow connect with Susan.
That's off-Broadway clumsiness at its worst. Acting is poor, ranging from the flat, incompetent readings of "Jerry" and the sniggering double-entendre delivery of Mr. Hope to Harriet's alternately dull readings and bursts of overacting to Susan's inability to make any of her instant transitions believable. (Actors all get pseudonyms, not matched to their fictional roles.) For porn hounds, the actresses cast here are unattractive and not even well-built.