A naked slut rolls around with other naked sluts while a bum peeps on her from across the street in his tenement apartment between bouts of unconsciousness and drinking.
What in the holy fuck. The DVD cover promised homicidal rage! It promised a “maniacally morbid masterpiece”. “The Findlays were known for their sleazy little roughies back in the day, what have I got to lose?” I asked myself. Surely there’s bound to be some entertainment value contained herein, so I settled in for 69 minutes of sleaze…
What I ended up with was a pretentious mishmash of ugly girls in various states of undress drinking and pretending to have sex with themselves and each other. At times taking a time out to shower while some filthy hobo watches through the window, all set to some of the most monotonous poetry oration I have ever been assaulted with (courtesy of French poet Pierre Lourys – the poetry is quite good, actually). This would have possibly made sense if the action on the screen was even attempting to emulate the ostentatious narrative; on and on it pontificates about woman, about Aphrodite, blah blah blah while Roberta Findlay (Tenement: Game of Survival, Blood Sisters
) – here in a rare starring role – flops about showing off her goods, padding the film out by probably a good 60 minutes. Seekers of the unusual may enjoy an interesting (albeit very brief) bit where she sits on some kind of strange fetish chair with a wooden phallic-like protrusion. Also of note; those with a healthy interest in lingerie/stockings, etc. may find a lot of this somewhat stimulating provided they aren’t too picky about the atrocities they so shamelessly gild.
Dashed against the rocks of dissatisfaction were my hopes of any sort of psychosexual violence, as I sat mired in this tedious montage of unwanted flesh, lamenting my existence. Sadly, I’m not the sort with the ability to just shut this shit off. “It HAS to get better”, I told myself. “There are tits and stuff!” I reasoned. Unfortunately Roberta Findlay is a hideous human deformity of a woman who’s about as fun to look at as a used Kleenex; there is no joy to be had on that front in the least. As the film droned on and on and as the girls awkwardly attempted to provoke some sort of response/enlightenment I found myself yearning for their demise at a steadily increasing rate. Just when I thought all was lost, the film cuts back to the hobo in his room, where another man attempts to procure his gin from him in exchange for sexual favors. Enraged, the hobo proceeds to kick the man down on the ground before brutally beating him to death with some manner of improvised cudgel. Now we’re talking! “Things are starting to look up!”, I think to myself; sadly having sat through 30+ minutes of dreck to get here. Resolute in its cruelty, the film then proceeds to berate me with more poetry and scantily clad/nude ugly girls doing uninteresting things for another 20 minutes.
I continued to endure this abuse, glancing at the clock every couple minutes or so while weathering the tedium flashing across my screen. Then mercifully the film shifts back to our hobo-hero (clearly unhinged by poverty and drink) as he makes his way over to the apartment of naked sorrow, prepared to consummate his imagined relationship with this terribly unfortunate looking girl. And in that one shining moment Take Me Naked
completely redeems itself as it digresses into an artfully crafted scene of insanity and butchery that even today some audiences may find shocking. It’s not overly graphic, but the portrayal of the man’s twisted psyche as he loves her with his knife will surely put a smile on the face of many a horror fan.
Stick it out and you will get to see a vagrant have his filthy way with an ugly dead girl. Think of it as a test of fortitude.
Official COSDS Nunspank rating:
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Duane co-founded The Church of Splatter-Day Saints in 2005. When not immersed in film he's enjoying good whiskey, smoking meat in the backyard or thinking about sluts. He makes a damn fine habanero fire sauce.