Haunted Nights (1993)

Jonathan Morgan hit a career peak (as far as I'm concerned) with "Haunted Nights", an early release from Wicked Pictures (so old most of the sex scenes are done bareback) that is fresh and hilarious over two decades later. Time flies and even the DVD reissue is out of print and largely forgotten.

With their accents varying (starting off Brooklyn but quickly all over the place), the comedy team of Morgan and Stephen St. Croix are memorably hyper-active doing such familiar routines that a crossover audience definitely exists here beyond porn enthusiasts. The films they salute tend to be Abbott & Costello ("Hold That Ghost"), but I found a stronger influence of The Three Stooges (Moe channeled frequently by Morgan), Bowery Boys and even a dab of Laurel & Hardy thrown into the mix. The sheer quantity of successful homages to classic shtick is impressive, and Morgan's timing is near-perfect.

As in those vintage movies, the rest of the cast has to try and keep a straight face amidst the stars' shenanigans, and for once the beautiful feminine porn stars do not automatically get top billing. Celeste is beautiful as ever and her acting is top-notch too playing Lorna Doone, grand daughter of the recently deceased Lord Angus McAngus, who has willed his Scottish castle to heroine Joan McTavish (small role for Nicole London) and her missing sister Patty (Brittany in an even more fleeting non-sex role).

After a cute montage of travel stock footage, our boys the private eyes pop up in Scotland, forced to stay overnight at the castle when a bridge washes out (typical cliché of these Old Dark House mysteries, at one time a terrifically popular Hollywood genre before HG Lewis invented screen gore which eventually led to the Saw and Hostel crap of today). Sort of squatting in the castle, hoping to inherit all when 48 hours are up and missing Patty isn't found, so property reverts to them according to Angus's will, are Randy Spears with phony beard & phony accent plus delightful Britt Morgan in terrible black wig.

Also on hand are (inevitably) Woody Long as the family lawyer -he being the only guy allowed to hump Celeste on screen back in this era, plus in an extended flop-sweat burlesque sketch appearance, the equally inevitable Ron Jeremy. I surmised that Ron's participation was to make Jonathan & Stephen look good by comparison, but they didn't need the contrast. He is dreadful doing stale material as a mad scientist Dr. Heimlich intent on transplanting the brain of his caged gorilla Congo into the head of St. Croix and vice versa. This lame routine is made watchable only because his assistant is played by unsung actress Sahara Sands, a tall drink of water who is hot, hot, hot.

Morgan's script makes fun of lots of other things, even borrowing from the Crosby/Hope Road Movies, and injecting plenty of Teen Wolf in the person of werewolf T.T. Boy, who is named Albert Frankenstein (I would have preferred a play on Larry Talbot).

The castle interior sets are well-done, and the boys' slapstick routines on the money. Many jokes whiz by, such as using bagpipe music during some sex scenes (that's something you don't hear in those either Muzak or pirated jazz one-day wonders from the Golden Age), and even a brief bit saluting MC Hammer (!) thrown into the mix.

Before the Scottish story gets rolling in earnest, special marks go to another forgotten performer, Mystica, who services St. Croix back in (presumably) Brooklyn. She's one of the least-known Adult stars I've watched in ages.