MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH (1989)
Ass, dancing, but no ass-dancing
Man, I haven't seen this much bare ass since The Burning.
At least the second (maybe the third) filmed adaptation of Poe's story has decadent Prince Prospero (Adrian "Highlander" Paul) holing up in his castle with a few hundred of his favorite noblemen and foxy village girls, while a plague called the Red Death ravishes the countryside. (this is not a very likely-seeming virus, considering that it's so quickly fatal - about thirty seconds - that spread of the plague seems inconceivable) Meanwhile, a creepy, cloaked figure goes around from village to village begging for scraps and infecting those selfish enough to deny him. Who is he? That's no mystery - he sounds an awful lot like Patrick MacNee, who we see in the film's opening scene. The question is, how long until he gets into the castle walls? Too long.
It's all pretty sluggish stuff; kind of a disappointment, since this is my favorite of Poe's tales that I've read to date. I've yet to see the Vincent Price version, and I'm as hungry for it as ever; that this movie stumbles about like a drunkard shan't replace my appetite with aversion.
Yeah, there are foxy chicks all over the place, and a chuckle-inducing shot of an orgy aftermath where everybody conveniently fell asleep face-down, allowing for maximum ass exposure (ass aficionados, take note), but this all looks somehow cheaper and cheesier than an episode of Xena, without the entertainment value or the cryptolesbianism.
And what's with all the super-sedated dancing? There's a four-girl table dance (accompanied by what appears to be an all-oboe band) which has got to be an erotic experience on a par with clipping your toenails, and there's actually line dancing near the end. The filmmakers seem proud of all the gettin' down the cast does here - the choreographer is the only person mentioned in the closing credits before the cast.
Great box art, though. I've been saying that about a lot of bad movies lately, haven't I?