Michael Findlay put the rough in his “roughies”, and for his positively the end of his sleazy Flesh trilogy, THE KISS OF HER FLESH (1968) is as Heather Drain notes, “by far the bleakest of the three”, a concluding final bow for one of the subgenre's defining archetypal madman, Richard Jennings (played by Findlay), and his murderous ambitions that include everything from poisonous semen and an acid douche bottle (you read that right) to get back at the gender that drove him mad in the first place. The misogyny is baked into these plots; “an intense study in S&M sinema as it veered towards hardcore, the Flesh series defined sleazoid aesthetics for a generation of moviegoers”, notes Sleazoid Express: A Mind-Twisting Tour Through the Grindhouse Cinema of Times Square (2002) according to the research from Alexandria Heller-Nicholas in her Senses of Cinema essay, What’s Inside a Girl?: Porn, Horror and the Films of Roberta Findlay (issue 80, September 2016). Out of the dank, grimy, set of these three films, THE KISS OF HER FLESH is the lightest narrative in terms of plot, but the heaviest on the smut, the violence, the pervy sexploitation. Some risky and/or risqué shots on pre-hardcore anal beads, fellatio, and some quick shots of female genitalia feel profound in their ground-breaking curiousness. It's countered however by the isolation of filming in the snowy Cape Ann Massachusetts, a site of a cabin of promiscuous women that ends every terribly for them in an eerie variation of Ted Bundy’s FSU’s Chi Omega sorority house killings. While the first two films of this trilogy walk the fine lines between art film and exploitation, THE KISS OF HER FLESH pretty much just leans into the raunchy violence of the concept, sans the cool cast and crew credits that are placed into cut-out lips after a man kisses the nude body of his lover. But from here, Richard Jennings just punishes women with an almost cartoonish of ways: lobster claws, electrocution, tire iron, the aforementioned poison semen and acid douche, and some good old strangulation. In one of Ted Bundy’s final interviews before his death in 1989 to Dr. James Dobson, he claimed pornography made him do his crimes; the acts of murder in KISS feel like what Bundy would commit, the salacious sex-murder hybrid must've been a doozy for the raincoat crowd in 1968. By far the weakest of the three films, there's still kind of nothing like a Michael Findlay film. Sure, hardcore came a few years later to the theaters and exploitation got rougher and gorier, but within these black-and-white films, is a stark independent attitude of a filmmaker not giving a f*ck, true highlights of the short-lived “roughie” subgenre. Heather Drain adds from her essay The Wrong Kind of Loving, “the Flesh trilogy is a beast that is nearly as potent now as it was when it first screened in the less respectable grindhouses back in the day. One can only imagine the dropped jaw of any poor man that paid for a ticket and the hope of spanking one out underneath the heavy coat or hat as they were greeted with so much art and nihilism. The fact that Maria (Uta Erickson) is our only true hero and is sexually liberated to the extent of being transgressive with her incestuous relationship with her sister actually puts KISS above a lot of future slasher films.” It's a prototype to the opposing cosmic forces that pits victim against killer that we see in repetition among films and in real-life, that even if these feel and look undistinguished, raw and sleazy, offer a vital contribution to cinema whether modern sensibilities want to admit it or not.
"The Kiss of Her Flesh is so sick, you'll probably need shots." (Frank Henenlotter, Something Weird Video synopsis)Words fail to describe the off-the-wall insanity baked into The Kiss of Her Flesh, the gratuitous final offering in Michael Findlay's Flesh trilogy. What this film lacks in Curse's overall style, it gains in total, unequivocal madness. Hornier and more grotesque than the previous two sexploitation features combined - surpassing its predecessors by actually incorporating full frontal nudity from both ladies and gents - Findlay's conclusion to the tale of misogynistic serial killer Richard Jennings throws every possible horror at the wall: torture by lobster claw and electrified earrings, Findlay (with his disappearing/reappearing eyepatch) doing an iffy German accent when his Jennings character masquerades as a gynecologist, sister-on-sister incest, blowtorches and crowbars, one-upping Psycho's shower murder via acidic douche, death by toxic blowjob ("My poisoned semen should take care of you well enough! So long, sucka!") and a climactic chase scene ("I'll slice you in two like a piece of cheese!") that seems to take place on the same beach as in A Thousand Pleasures. None of these elements, however, can hold a candle to the film's first sex scene between Uta Erickson and a remarkably youthful Earl Hindman. If you've ever had a deep dark fantasy involving Wilson from Home Improvement (you certainly see more than the top half of his face) and anal beads, then do I have the movie for you!With this third leg (so to speak) of the Flesh series, Michael Findlay created a cinematic universe in which he could imagine himself as the world's greatest lover, elevating Richard Jennings to a Casanova capable of untold ecstasies even as he continues his spree of sexual violence. These films were outlets for carnal activities that, by all accounts, the director never indulged in with his wife Roberta offscreen - who's to say we wouldn't do something similar, if such an opportunity presented itself?Can't wait to move on to the vulgar promises of his next opus, The Ultimate Degenerate!The Films of Michael Findlay: RankedWatch Four Films Challenge 2021
“I will cut away these underpants to more easily get at the source.”For better or worse, [the Findlays] somehow managed to turn sexual assault into an exquisitely deranged art form. The films are visually stunning, while the couple’s shared personal hatred of women shines through every gorgeous frame.— Lisa Petrucci, “The Flesh Trilogy”The Strong Arm of JusticeThe snow and the fire will purify your soul in the final film of Michael Findlay’s Flesh Trilogy, which finds serial killing misogynist Richard Jennings having now defeated his cheating wife and his cheating wife’s lover. What is their left for him to do? Well, for starters, take out his uncontrollable rage on all the women of the world (“I’ll kill every last woman on Earth if I have to!”). This is, quite literally, the crawdaddy of all Flesh films, with ski mask Jennings now eating lobster in Gloucester, Mass, and for even the staunchest Findlay fans, maybe taking things a bit too far. When you start injecting your balls with poison in order to murder via cumshot (“so long, sucker!”), it’s time to rethink your life’s work, Richard. Definitely the most transgressively silly of the three films, with a wink and nod to the ante-upping ridiculousness, but also, the most squirm-inducing, with anal bead removal in the first 10 minutes (better than a rope with knots in it), incestous sisters as pseudo-heroines, and Janet Banzet with a virus that only erotic massage and douching can cure. You also get the first (and thankfully last) glimpse at Richard Jennings’ O-face. Kind of wished it would have (ahem) climaxed with the poetic justice of Jennings dying via shotgun-triggered hard-on, but falling from great heights onto Crane Beach with a sharp object in his back is fine too, I guess.The Flesh Stats:The Credits: Cut out paper lips on Uta Erickson’s intimate parts.The Weapons: Tire iron, crab legs, electric earrings, poison semen, acid douche, blow torch, scrap metal.The Liquor: None!The Star: Uta Erickson, scabs on her knees, still looks good enough to eat.The Key Setting: The Mad Doctor’s officeThe Song: John Barry, “Mood Three”
