All I Do Is Talk To My Pillow
on Chatterbox! (1977)
IT’S LIKE THE GOSPEL OF ‘DEEP THROAT’ ACCORDING TO JACQUELINE SUSANN. Directed by women-in-prison auteur Tom DeSimone, Chatterbox! is a piece of clever camp on the order of The Lonely Lady (laudatory) and that sequence in Play It As It Lays wherein burned-out B-movie actress Tuesday Weld peels a boiled egg whilst driving aimlessly in her yellow Chevrolet.
The premise of this exploitation classic —which riffs off the 1975 French porno Pussy Talk— is redolent of the ribald wit of an old men’s magazine cartoon strip: the all-talking, all-singing vagina of beauty parlor shopgirl Penny (Candice Rialson) falls hook, line and sinker for the promise of showbizzy stardom. The vagina can wisecrack, record dance hits, and perform to sold-out audiences across the USA; Betty Friedan wants to debate her, movie tycoons want to groom her. The pussy, named Virginia, is America’s ultimate sweetheart: middlebrow, sharp-witted, a hell of an entertainer, and boasting an affinity for star-spangled lingerie. Perhaps she is The Republic’s most patriotic pet since the garish days of Betty Grable?
Since moxie had nothing to do with Penny’s rise to the top, the ballyhoo around her dipsy sexe qui parle torments her, and the exploits of those puppeteering her for benefits (“Gee, isn't it great how mom adjusted to showbiz?") are bona fide NBC women’s miniseries material. Grindhouse doll Candy Rialson radiantly slays her role as the pulped schoolgirlish pink-collar worker. As also seen in 1973’s Pets, the actress just has a way of imbuing her screen ingénues with a strange nymphet-esque pathos that can shatter across many a vulgar set-up. DeSimone’s zippy effort may superficially recall some of the T&A-heavy comedies of the seventies but the result is more like sexploitation going soap; it is the highest triumph of the lowbrow. For a similar blend of genres see any sixties Russ Meyer.
Anyway, I am ending this piece rather prematurely for fear I may have caught the mumps (my boyfriend swears my cheeks don’t look any puffier but my reflection in the mirror is giving me Pia Zadora FR and I have a diabolic sore throat… perhaps/hopefully just a swollen jaw). Also as my ‘perfectionism’ robs me from publishing so so much on this blog, I have made it a goal to pen simpler pieces (like this one) just for the sake of HONORING and documenting my transient film interests + sharpening my lady writer skills while at it. Taking myself so seriously online goes soooo against my IRL daffiness that it baffles me that I go so hard on myself when it comes to Substack. On a final note I should mention that the director of Chatterbox! also made a 3-D softcore feature in 1972 called Prison Girls + an equally three-dimensional gay porno flick titled Heavy Equipment… it goes without saying I am dreaming new dreams thanks to him.
love this piece <3