Allow me to take you back to the tail end of porn's so-called "Golden Age" (roughly 1975 to 1985, give or take a few years on either side), when adult industry giant Excalibur dabbled in movie manufacture as well as distribution, the latter being the capacity for which it's still primarily known today. Apparently overseen by their possibly fictitious in house producer "Arthur King" (Excalibur, King Arthur, geddit ?), TEN LITTLE MAIDENS proved but one of a spate of mid-'80s adult offerings to favor plot and production over sexual content, sort of the filmed fornication feature's last stand as cheap 'n' cheesy shot on video was rapidly gaining ground. Not content to put all their money on a single horse however, the company simultaneously put Bob Vosse's SEX WARS into the pipeline, an even more expensive take-off on STAR WARS (Duh !) with more emphasis on admittedly elaborate set design and presumably painstaking make-up than erotica. Neither flick giving rise to the expected box office bonanza, they have kept a comparatively low profile ever since.
To direct the whole shebang, Excalibur hired affable John Seeman fresh off his VIRGINIA triumph at the AFAA Awards. Never mind that this multiple win constituted proof positive for many an industry insider that the show was indeed rigged as had been suspected all along ! A frequently underrated veteran performer, whose finest work might be playing the sympathetic chauffeur in Richard Kanter's superlative DESIRES WITHIN YOUNG GIRLS (with his single sex scene now unfortunately cut from the Caballero DVD), Seeman did not fare so well on the other side of the camera, garnering his only good notices for his film-making first, the immensely enjoyable BLONDES HAVE MORE FUN. His last effort, the solid Nina Hartley showcase MISSING PIECES, was all but overlooked and critics really sharpened their knives for both VIRGINIA and MAIDENS. Though certainly not the instant classic it was intended as, the latter is nowhere near as awful as contemporary reviews would have you believe. Pleasingly shot by one "Joe Giovanni" on an alleged island in the Pacific (the imaginary Bacchanale Island for narrative's sake), it can boast a bona fide superstar cast having fun with a decidedly sexual spin on the Agatha Christie murder mystery "Ten Little Indians" – it initially employed the dreaded N-word back in the author's native Britain but was forcibly changed to gain acceptance overseas – and, perhaps even more, Neil Simon's pastiche thereof, MURDER BY DEATH. This frenzied, free for all approach at least produces livelier results than Tim McDonald's similar yet stultifying LUST ON THE ORIENT X-PRESS.
Newlyweds who can't keep their hands off each other, John and Carol (Harry Reems and Ginger Lynn recreating their potent chemistry from the Mitchell Brothers' GRAFENBERG SPOT) are rudely interrupted during their morning lovemaking when the mischievous mail lady (Russ Meyer icon Kitten Natividad) delivers an invitation to an all expenses paid weekend on a tropical island. Manservant Renfro (Jamie Gillis) leads them to the mansion where they discover they're but part of a very libertine group called upon to partake in unlimited fornication. Cue the AVN Award-winning "food orgy" sequence which really grosses some people out, its questionable "highlight" being Gillis plowing doggy style into then real life lady love Amber Lynn with a glistening pig's head covering her rear end ! Rest assured that the remaining sex scenes occur in a more traditional vein, if only just. Indefatigable cult favorite Janey Robbins, who could always be counted on for truly volcanic performances (just watch Alex De Renzy's GIRLFRIENDS for ample proof), turns stalwart Eric Edwards' nether regions into banana split for Amber's big gulp in a steamy threesome culminating in what must surely be the oddest – supposedly internal – pop shot ever. Plotwise the mystery host has left his guests a taped message informing them they have to pay the price for their lascivious lifestyle. Heat is hampered somewhat by "creative" killing methods incorporated into the sex. Janey and Nina Hartley (looking lovely at the start of a very lengthy career) are electrocuted by a double dong vibrator, Paul Thomas is crushed when the ceiling of his four poster comes crashing down, and so forth. I'm not about to reveal the culprit but the movie retains a surprising respect towards its source, right down to the deus ex machina return of characters presumed dead.
