Infrequent purveyor of low-ambition smut like SCENT OF LOVE and DAUGHTER OF SATAN, Hardi Burton takes a slightly more ambitious stab at the genre with RINDERCELLA, a softcore quickie that still looks like it was cranked out in a single afternoon but plays better for embracing its slap-dash aesthetic.
Plot follows the classic fairy tale in broad strokes only, opening on Rindercella, I guess (I don't recall her ever being named in the film), scrubbing an oven door in a standard early '70s kitchen. It's a playfully tacky setup along the lines of early John Waters, not even attempting to establish a fairytale or period ambiance but simply plopping the narrative elements down as lazily as possible into the modern day.
Berated in rapid succession by her stepsisters and mother (who all look the same age), Rindercella is left scrubbing while everyone retreats to the bedroom for some fun. Any frisson of incest, however, is solely implied, as the film never once explicates the characters' relationships, relying on the viewer's familiarity with the source to make sense of what's going on. After a long and desultory scene of softcore lesbian troilism, we return to Rindercella in the kitchen, where a savior magically materializes.
Once again, I thought the film might be gesturing toward a bit of genuine cultural subversion, seemingly adopting the same strategy as the recent, Camila Cabello-fronted CINDERELLA (not the mention the X-rated 1977 version before it) and making the "fairy" godmother a literal homosexual. Despite the guy showing up in a frilly pink outfit and mascara, however, he proves he's all man (or at least flexible enough), by soliciting some bedroom action from our heroine in exchange for a souped-up ride to the ball.
Speaking of sexually amorphous individuals, Gerard Broulard, famous recipient of an early (faked) John Holmes blowjob in Walt Davis' OLE this same year, shows up at the ball as the Prince. Again, the "ball" is held in a typical suburban living room, and Broulard, quickly smitten, escorts Rindercella off to a nearby bedroom, where the two quickly consummate their affair (she still has to be home by midnight!). Aping another conceit - this time from Friedman and Lewis' SINDERELLA AND THE GOLDEN BRA - Broulard is left with nothing but that particular undergarment to use in lieu of a slipper. No prizes for guessing how the story ends, as it hews closely to the original.
While the film shows plenty of potential with its gestures toward a kitchen-sink, subversive version of this classic fairy tale, it unfortunately leaves almost all the meat on the bone - the film is rife with opportunities to inject fun, silly, or even stupid details into the story that it just never follows up on, presumably since the participants were all hoping to wrap up somewhere in the neighborhood of a 12-hour day. There are those who will argue it's silly to expect anything more from a cheap, early '70s sex film, but I'd like to think there's room for both intellectual and libidinal stimulation even in low-rent erotica. RINDERCELLA marks the closest that chronic underachiever Burton ever came to that ideal, but it still leaves a lot wanting.
Plot follows the classic fairy tale in broad strokes only, opening on Rindercella, I guess (I don't recall her ever being named in the film), scrubbing an oven door in a standard early '70s kitchen. It's a playfully tacky setup along the lines of early John Waters, not even attempting to establish a fairytale or period ambiance but simply plopping the narrative elements down as lazily as possible into the modern day.
Berated in rapid succession by her stepsisters and mother (who all look the same age), Rindercella is left scrubbing while everyone retreats to the bedroom for some fun. Any frisson of incest, however, is solely implied, as the film never once explicates the characters' relationships, relying on the viewer's familiarity with the source to make sense of what's going on. After a long and desultory scene of softcore lesbian troilism, we return to Rindercella in the kitchen, where a savior magically materializes.
Once again, I thought the film might be gesturing toward a bit of genuine cultural subversion, seemingly adopting the same strategy as the recent, Camila Cabello-fronted CINDERELLA (not the mention the X-rated 1977 version before it) and making the "fairy" godmother a literal homosexual. Despite the guy showing up in a frilly pink outfit and mascara, however, he proves he's all man (or at least flexible enough), by soliciting some bedroom action from our heroine in exchange for a souped-up ride to the ball.
Speaking of sexually amorphous individuals, Gerard Broulard, famous recipient of an early (faked) John Holmes blowjob in Walt Davis' OLE this same year, shows up at the ball as the Prince. Again, the "ball" is held in a typical suburban living room, and Broulard, quickly smitten, escorts Rindercella off to a nearby bedroom, where the two quickly consummate their affair (she still has to be home by midnight!). Aping another conceit - this time from Friedman and Lewis' SINDERELLA AND THE GOLDEN BRA - Broulard is left with nothing but that particular undergarment to use in lieu of a slipper. No prizes for guessing how the story ends, as it hews closely to the original.
While the film shows plenty of potential with its gestures toward a kitchen-sink, subversive version of this classic fairy tale, it unfortunately leaves almost all the meat on the bone - the film is rife with opportunities to inject fun, silly, or even stupid details into the story that it just never follows up on, presumably since the participants were all hoping to wrap up somewhere in the neighborhood of a 12-hour day. There are those who will argue it's silly to expect anything more from a cheap, early '70s sex film, but I'd like to think there's room for both intellectual and libidinal stimulation even in low-rent erotica. RINDERCELLA marks the closest that chronic underachiever Burton ever came to that ideal, but it still leaves a lot wanting.