Mondo Tundra's House of Hooters

James Avalon used the pseudonym Mondo Tundra for writing and directing this XXX salute to the nudie/cutie comedy porn made over 35 years prior, but uses his usual name in credits for producing and presenting the Metro release. These mixed feelings are reflected in the final product.

My reaction on a second viewing is that the feature was too measured, too calculated to work. If made at all today it would be with a 2 or 3 person crew, not the dozens of craftsmen Avalon employed (and credits), and would have a zero amateur-porn level budget. Instead he has some top talent led by a good-natured Evan Stone and the various skits are not amusing, merely silly. In the mainstream I would reach back to Otto Preminger's universally reviled big-budget "Skidoo" (nearly 50 years old now), in which his slapstick humor with an all-star cast (Jackie Gleason, Carol Channing, Groucho Marx, Frankie Avalon (coincidence), etc.) doesn't play.

Infantile humor has Stone as a 35-year-old man still in diapers, not acquainted with the world. A big-busted fairy godmother type sends him into the world to discover the purpose and meaning of women's breasts, with title location just the place to find out.

Armed only with sunglasses, trusty Groucho cigar in his mouth and a soft hat/pith helmet he wanders from room to room where burlesque style skits take place. A couple of nutty guys are measuring a woman, obsessed with stats on her breasts, etc., in too-obvious mocking of our cultural obsession that is usually blamed on Hugh Hefner and Russ Meyer, but of course goes back further, certainly to the classic strippers of the Virginia Bell/Tempest Storm dimensions.

One goofy non-sex actor is sort of bird-watching if the pun fits, observing with binoculars the "mating ritual" of a trio of busty lesbians wearing elaborate hats. Another guy is conquering his "fear of breasts" by having 4 big ones dangling in his face before humping both women. Condoms are the chosen male accessory in this production.

So it goes until Evan, echoing the audience's sentiments perhaps, threatens to the camera that he's walking off the show at the hour mark, because it is too stupid and silly. A Graham Chapman or John Cleese he ain't, and the dumb bit is as silly as the rest of the film, with him easily coaxed to continue by the girl cast for his long-awaited sex scene. They hump and he wakes up in bed with another girl, finally finding out his name (as a 35-year-old baby he's merely called No-Name a la Clint Eastwood) and it's Ed. Actual ending is more cryptic than I could countenance.

Sarina Del Rey (or Ray) is an excellent choice in casting, backed up by Olivia and many unfamiliar, perhaps forgotten actresses of the period. All have big breasts but none in the huge Score-magazine category. Musical tracks are amusing, with Joel Lawrence getting a threesome in a fine jazz porn sequence built around the Barry Harris piano riff stolen (for big-band adaptation) from Lee Morgan's 1964 classic "The Sidewinder". Perhaps I should send this DVD to Woody Allen, and it might inspire him to do a long-awaited (50 years) followup to "What's Up, Tiger Lily?".