Much like My Fair Lady, this film is based on George Bernard Shaw’s Pygmalion. Unlike My Fair Lady, this flick features pegging. Pegging might not sound all that elegant, but this was one of the first “porno chic” films I saw that truly felt chic. It is beautifully shot (on location in Paris, Rome, and New York City), and genuinely funny.

Misty Beethoven stars Jamie Gillis, who has been called both “the best actor in porn,” and the “sickest actor in porn,” though I think that first distinction belongs to Robert Kerman (also known as R. Bola). Candace Money stars as the titular Misty—the Eliza to Gillis’ Henry Higgins.

Both actors excel in their roles, making an already visually enticing film all the more seductive. It’s perfectly paced, just sleazy enough, and—yes—chic.

This movie is kind of a bummer, and that’s a good thing. I don’t know that I’d go so far as to call it “feminist,” but it deals with themes like sex work, drug addiction, and the power dynamics that come about with being a woman in any professional or academic setting. All three leads—Samantha Fox, Veronica Heart, and Kelly Nichols—do a fantastic job bringing real depth and humanity to their characters, while all the men—save for Jerry Butler’s “Eddie”—are absolute creeps, Jamie Gillis being the creepiest of all.

In spite of the heavy themes and a few downright depressing scenes, Roommates manages to be erotic, thoughtful, and oddly heartwarming.

Here again, we have Jamie Gillis casted as an absolute creep, only this time in a starring role alongside Andrea True. Even if you’re not familiar with Andrea’s acting, you’re probably familiar with her music—her song “More More More,” was a certifiable disco hit, one that was subsequently sampled in “Steal My Sunshine” by LEN—though my favorite song of hers is “Music for Money,” off of the 1980 album War Machine.

Anyway. This movie follows a semi-bored housewife—Lynn Carter—whose husband (the only man she’s ever slept with) is out of town on a business trip. Lynn meets a Sean (played by Gillis), a charming sex consultant, and the two agree to have lunch the next day. After plying her with drinks and forcing a joint into her mouth, the two begin an abusive affair, with Sean threatening to tell Lynn’s husband about her infidelity, should she decide to stop seeing him.

“Bored housewife” may be a tired trope today, but True’s performance is more heartbreaking than titillating, which makes Lynn feel like a fully original character. The sex depicted is intense, but Gillis and True are so scarily good in this film, it makes one wish that hardcore movies and straight cinema had ended up intertwining the way so many of these Golden Age stars hoped they would.

I love this film so much, I have the (professionally framed) poster hanging in my living room. Lisa De Leeuw is an undeniable knockout, but her earnest portrayal of Harriet—a sexually frustrated secretary who looks to her boss’s sex worker, Lucy, for guidance—is utterly captivating.

The sex is sexy, but the relationship between Harriet and Lucy—who never really have sex—is what keeps you watching. It would be a stretch to say that this movie is about the power of female friendship, but—much like Roommates—it focuses on the relationship between the two women, rather than their relationship to the men around them, who are little more than sexual fodder for Harriet’s journey. (There’s also a pretty good threesome scene.)

Finally, we have a comedy. This obvious parody of 9 to 5 opens with an obvious parody theme song, and it’s just a lot of fun. Much like 9 to 5, this film centers around three women working for terrible bosses (Herschel Savage and Juliet Anderson) who use their positions of (meager) power to bang job applicants. (Spoiler alert: The ladies turn the tables on them in the end.)

Annette Haven drives the plot of the movie (and gets the majority of the dialogue), though Lisa De Leeuw and Loni Sanders have more sex, and all three give stellar comedic performances. (The mocking face Annette makes after she’s told to “close the door behind her” by Juliet—about 49 minutes in—is priceless.)

Though the poster boasts the skills of Rhonda Jo Petty, it’s Kay Parker who makes this movie, though the opening scene with John Leslie sets the bar high.

Each sexual exploit is linked to the next via personal relationship: The stepdaughter (Rhonda Jo Petty) of the rich, frigid woman (Honey Wilder) who’s seduced by the help (John Leslie) in the opening scene gets railed by a construction worker (Herschel Savage) who works for her father, whose secretary we follow to the pool for a threesome with the pool boy (played by Eric Andrews). And on and on.

Kay Parker steals the show with not one but two incredible scenes, both of which highlight her matriarchal vibe without being tacky about it.

Much like Misty Beethoven, Dracula Sucks is a surprisingly faithful adaptation of a classic. Jamie Gillis plays the Count, and Annette Haven stars as his obsession, Mina.

There are two versions of this film: The 95-minute, more horrific but sexually restrained Dracula Sucks (which, though less hardcore, still features necrophilia and rat play); and the shorter, funnier, Lust at First Bite, which features more explicit sex scenes and (for some reason) the music of Woody Guthrie.

The costumes and scenery are beautiful, and the actors—even the extras that play the committed—are committed to their roles. Gillis’ Count Dracula is straightforward, but he can’t help but make some classic wild-eyed Jamie faces (which, in my opinion, are always a plus).

Described by Vinegar Syndrome as a “big-budget hardcore black comedy with an all-star cast,” this movie follows a New York congressman Nick Stern (Paul Thomas) running for senate on a campaign of anti-smut, pro-family conservative values.

The only problem? (I bet you can guess the problem.) The congressman is, himself, a sexual deviant, and all-around bad guy. All is going according to plan until a plucky reporter (played by Annette Haven) starts snooping around.

Paul Thomas is slick and sleazy, but Robert Kerman (aka R. Bola) and Joey Silvera steal the show as his financial backer and lackey, respectively, though I don’t think Kerman needed to go quite so hard with the inexplicable German accent.

Fun fact: There’s another pornographic film—Spitfire (1985)—with the exact same plot and a much smaller budget. It also features Joey Silvera and Robert Kerman, and I have no idea why it was made!

Throughout his career, Jamie Gillis played a lot of cruel men and a lot of photographers, but this movie gives him the opportunity to play a cruel photographer.

But in Angel on Fire, Jamie’s cruelty severs a greater purpose, as it is directed at another cruel man...who has been reincarnated as a woman.

The movie begins with Steven Ellis telling his newly pregnant girlfriend (who he just failed to bring to climax) to “get the fuck out of here and never come back.” Then Steven gets hit by a VW bus.

The angels above decide Stephen needs to learn a lesson about respect, so he’s sent back to earth as Stephanie (Darby Lloyd Rains), so he can see how it feels to be treated like shit (by Jamie Gillis).

This, to me, is feminism.

It may not have a parody theme song, but this workplace hardcore comedy is legitimately funny. The movie follows a bunch of young, hot telephone operators who become distressed when they learn they are in danger of being replaced by an automated system.

In an attempt to prevent the inevitable, the workers hatch a plan to keep their customers happy by giving the people one thing an automated system can’t: Explicit phone sex.

Everyone in this film understood the assignment. Kay Parker offers warm guidance in the way that only she can, Hypatia Lee is cunning and stunning, and Mike Horner’s under-desk antics pair startlingly well with Bill Margold’s dirty talk.

But the best running gag in the entire movie belongs to Shauna Grant and Joey Silvera. I won’t give it away, but they pull of a truly excellent, and ultimately satisfying, slapstick-driven subplot.

There is so much plot, production value, and acting in this movie, I was a little shocked when the actors started fucking (which doesn’t happen until the six-minute mark—kind of late for hardcore porno).

“Sex World” is the silly-sounding but accurate name of a facility that’s half carnal amusement park, have sex therapy facility. Visitors are encouraged to share their deepest fantasies, which they live out with the help of Sex World staff.

It’s a surprisingly heavy, but visually stunning movie that attempts to tackle themes like racism, crippling loneliness, and failing marriages, some of which are handled more adroitly than others.

If you’re a connoisseur of adult cinema, you’ll appreciate the little meta nods to the industry as a whole, including a shout out to Al Goldstein’s Screw magazine, as well as an appearance by the iconic Johnnie Keyes of Green Door fame.

This movie is good. The sex is good. The acting is corny (but still good). The locations are exactly what they should be (a garage, city streets, a pool hall).

The jumpsuits, however, are outstanding, as is Lisa De Leeuw who does not, in my opinion, get enough praise for her dry comedic delivery. (I rewound the move three times just to hear her say “The first of our kind—women who repair cars!” the first time I saw this.)

All these ladies want is to open and run a successful garage, but pesky men seek to thwart and distract them at every turn. Hilarity ensues. (Not only does it feature incredible jumpsuits, but it’s the only porn I’ve ever seen to employ the classic “pie in the face” gag.)

No one plays “uptight” quite like Seka—her face is beautiful, but kind of mean looking—and her portrayal of the titular Tara is borderline scornful.

Unimpressed with the antics of her photographer Hal (Gillis, natch) and her lecherous father’s much younger girlfriend (a radiant Veronica Hart), Tara gets real disapproving whenever anyone deigns to have any fun. “How can you do this to my father?,” she screams at Hart when she finds her in a post-threesome pile with Gillis and another model. (Her father, as luck would have it, does not care.)

Seka does a lot of pouting and a lot of judging, and the whole thing culminates in a sex party hosted by Hal. (I won’t spoil the ending, but I bet you can guess what happens.)

This meta tale of porn production was written and direct by Gerard Damiano, who is just the guy you want writing and directing this kind of thing.

Young porno director Harry (Tony Hudson) is stuck in rut, making skin flicks for the mob, hoping to cross over into “straight” cinema.

Hudson’s Harry is kind and artsy—this man cares about cinema—but his artistry is more hindrance than help. Things seem to be looking up when he begins a tender relationship with a young porno starlet (Sharon Mitchell), but then Jamie Gillis shows up and throws a (his) wrench in things.

This movie has a gritty New York vibe, Damiano himself in a fairly large (but non-sexual) role, a tender love story, and kidnapping. (Can you guess who’s cast as the kidnapper? I bet you can.)

Though technically one year too late to be considered “Golden,” this movie is still shot on film, so we’re gonna count it. Herschel Savage played a lot of detectives throughout his impressive career—he has the look and the voice—but this particular pornoir really lets him shine.

Hired by a rich, eccentric gambler—played by Jamie Gillis, who was a gambler in real life, as well—to find an old book, Savage’s Ted Singer sets out to find the historically important tome which, unbeknownst to him, has the power to turn any woman into a nymphomaniac, a task that would be challenging enough without literal Nazis getting involved.

The costumes are spectacular, the Nazis are legitimately frightening, and Herschel knocks it out of the park as a leading man. (Jamie Gillis also wears really cool robe, if you’re into that kind of thing.)

This film is about classism, racism, and the upstairs/downstairs dynamics that go along with employing “help.” (Do you like Downton Abbey? This is like that, except no one is British and Lisa De Leeuw stops by to sell sexual enhancement products.)

Samantha Fox plays the sexually repressed “lady of the house” perfectly, while Lisa De Leeuw and Vanessa Del Rio amp up the accents for comedic effect.

It’s exceptionally class conscious for pornography, downright hilarious, with sex scenes that are fun and sexy (like they should be).

I have not, I’m sorry to say, seen this movie in its entirety, but I have seen enough clips to know that it is good.

Georgina Spelvin stars as Miss Jones, a depressed virgin who kills herself to end the tedium of her spinster life (her only sin).

Her mostly pure life earns her a place in limbo, where she must stay for all eternity, unless she “earns” her place in hell by fucking a whole bunch.

Roger Ebert gave the film a glowing review, calling Spelvin the “the Linda Lovelace of the literate” and the movie the first porno he ever saw “that actually seems to be about its leading character—instead of merely using her as the object of sexual variations.”

Maybe I’ll watch it tonight.