Bluebird reportedly aimed at a 5-part porno film with the high-concept "Murder Mystery Weekend" but only 3 "acts" were released before the label went kaput. This is incompetence on a grand scale and only for Bluebird completists like myself.
NOTE of warning: the AVN which somehow has gone from a crummy newsletter to hold some sort of stranglehold over the industry, awarded this Best Director -tie for foreign film, handed to uncredited Paul Chaplin, who runs the label. Should have been a razzie instead, but apparently the fix was in.
SPOILERS:
Since I watch Bluebirds religiously there was no mystery in this series. Even without Act 5 (or even 4) ever escaping from the vaults the killer's identity is obvious: those hairy legs and pasty-skinned body belong to none other than Chaplin himself, billed only as "The Shadow". He likes to get free pussy in his productions, a casting couch for all to see.
Low point, or high point depending on one's perv quotient, is Chaplin as The Shadow having sex with the attractive corpse played by Claire, an obscure actress who does make a lasting impression here. Necrophilia is referred to in many horror films but I can't recall seeing it actually enacted "for real" (I know, it's only a movie, only a movie...) so once again Chaplin earns points for chutzpah. His puppeteer action moving Claire's hands around (to get a hand-job for himself, etc.), is typical of Bluebird black humor. Oops- almost forgot to mention: a sensual instrumental version of "Killing Me Softly With His Song" plays during this scene.
In other hands this might have been an interesting project. The "old dark house" genre is one of horror's finest, though nowadays taking a back-seat to torture- porn. Very popular in England, and much less so in these former colonies I inhabit, the country inn holding a murder mystery weekend in which guests play a game not unlike "Clue" with cosplay a feature should be a good backdrop to humping. Of course, the murders start happening for real, the corniest of plot ploys given this initial premise.
Making the film tolerable is an extremely campy performance by Valerie Pearl as the hostess who runs the inn. Her extravagant arm movements, odd diction, and flouncing around are in a 1930s tradition that gave us Billie Burke, Lilyan Tashman and many other great stars. In later segments she gets to have sex, but in Act One doesn't even get a screen credit for her key non-sex performance.
The six sex vignettes are arbitrary, with poor continuity and a general air of pointlessness prevailing. Chaplin or Perry James (latter gets screen credit for directing and scripting acts 2 & 3) don't care about the mystery -all that matters is sex and silliness.
I could not figure out after watching the 3 extant episodes the point of an emphasized subplot starring imported Chatsworth talent. Eva Angelina literally dominates the proceedings as an evil governess tormenting busty Carly Parker. Improvised dialog ruins this lengthy gambit but bondage and big-boob fans are properly serviced with this irrelevant filler.
Body count reaches four or five, but in later segments characters are supernaturally brought back to life to hump some more. Like Bluebird's best flights of fancy "Honeymoon" and "Secret Garden", none of it makes sense.
In Act One I enjoyed Natalia Faith hamming it up as a horny undertaker (check out her top hat) and Bluebird starlet Jodie James, who made quite an impression as the heroine of the label's 3-part "Black Beauty", plays a weird astrologer who has some of those aforementioned supernatural powers. Alexis Silver as an orgy girl always wins breast in show, as her out-sized naturals can't be beat by local British talent who frequent plastic surgeons.
P.S.: Though I identified Chaplin as the killer as early as Act One, this "unfinished" 5-parter ends up through Act III with matters still hanging. Chaplin did the same thing with his ill-fated 3-part "Macbeth", only Act One of which was ever released.
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