To do my part for The Covid-19 effort I spent last night watching a film called Trapped In The House. I didn’t know what it was about, I just figured it had an apropos title and it was streaming for free so the least I could do was watch it.
It turns out its a soft-core porn film from 1970. For a film that uses desk lamps for lighting and is filmed on what looks like 2mm film, Trapped in The House is not completely without some entertainment value and just a tinge, I don’t want to overstate anything here, just a tinge of eroticism, at least at first.
Although uncredited I am pretty sure the director is male because the voice that clearly calls “cut” at the end of one of the scenes is male. Later in the film you can hear him say “action.” Say what you will but the man could talk the talk.
It is at least nice to watch a film that gets right down to business. Within the first few seconds of the film a woman walks into a room and takes off all her cloths while she talks to her roommate. By minute 3 we are crosscutting between three sex scenes in three different rooms. The first 22 minutes of the film is just cutting from one room to the next while we watch an entirely female cast pleasure each other and themselves.
Although their clumsy petting and exaggerated moans were entertaining the true stars of the film were the interiors. I’m not sure if anyone was ‘in charge” of the interiors, or their decorations. I’m thinking mise en scène was not a high priority here but I have to say the locations were wonderful.
Two rooms in particular deserve some description. I like to call them the The Kennedy/Hoffman Room and Twister Room. The Kennedy/Hoffman room is painted pale blue and features a pale blue matching night stand. There is no other furniture save a mattress on the floor. The most prominent features in the room is a pair of large posters. One of John F. Kennedy and the other Dustin Hoffman. Both are pinned up stylishly askew. Dustin in particular seems to stare in shock at what is unfolding in front of him. There is a third poster but we never quite see what it is of. The Twister room has pink walls, creamsicle orange drapes, and blood red, carpeting with a matching bedspread. I dubbed it The Twister Room because the sole decoration on the wall is a vinyl Twister board.
After the 20 minute sex marathon there is a brief scene where one of the young ladies goes into the basement and utters one line, “Augie? Augie where are you?” Enter Augie a hippie with a shaggy afro and mustache. Cue ten more minutes of “sex.”
It must be very difficult to simulate 10 minutes of sex without actually having sex. The man licks every inch of her torso and carefully avoids the good stuff. It must get very wet, her torso I mean. Eventually they flip over and she does the same to him. Unfortunately they are caught by a woman who kicks the hippie out.
It is difficult to know what is going on because the muddy sound of the character’s voices is hard to hear over the whir of the camera motor. However it does gradually becomes apparent that the story takes place in a college residential house run by a den mother named Mrs. Bea. She is in charge of keeping the boys out of the building and preserving the lovelorn girls’ honor. The girls try a series of screwball schemes to sneak the fellas in but they all fail.
Apparently fed up with all the antics Mrs. Bea gathers the girls in The Twister Room to deliver a soliloquy on modern gender relations, “Alright girls, I don’t care what you are doing, but sooner or later you’re gonna realize that you’re completely wrong. Yeah, listen, listen, all those men, all they want to do to you, they just wanna lay your down. That’s all, and then they leave you alone. Right? So, just, listen come on. Don’t, d, don’t, don’t, don’t do that because it, its, its really serious. Try, try, think it over and do something about it because its really serious.”
After all that talking there is only one thing left to do. As soon as Mrs, Bea leaves, off come the cloths and our ladies have a lesbian orgy, or an awkward pretend orgy, or a half hearted attempt at pleasing the director. None of the actresses seem to be able to remember Mrs. Bea’s name. She gets called Bell, and one actress tries saying something and just says “or whatever her name is.”
In a last ditch effort at getting some man lovin’ the girls convince a reluctant fellah named Michael to squeeze himself into a dress, lipstick and wig a la Bosom Buddies. They manage to get him past Mrs. Bea and hurry him upstairs. Once in The Twister Room five ladies pile on the poor fellow and soon he passes out from exhaustion, but not before he manages to call Augie for assistance. The girls try to revive Michael and seem very concerned about him until Augie pokes his hirsute head through the window and they resume the orgy on top of Michael’s unconscious body.
Michael does eventually wake up and he and Augie manage to somehow satisfy the mob without ever getting erections. Finally Mrs Bea barges in. She spares us all another speech and just joins in on the orgy, or a pile of people sticking their noses in each others belly buttons and behind each others ears and giggling. In case it isn’t clear when the movie is over we are reassured by a final “cut” from the off screen director and for half a second the camera swings wildly off the set and on to some cables. The End.