Right off the bat, the music score by Double Vision is funky, groovy, jazzy and is filled with weird ass noises that sound like indigestion. Oh my God! Is Tom Byron going to continue to sport that stupid expression on his face for the entire movie? I hope not. I’ll say this about him, his cock has an okay head on its shaft-like shoulders.
The fine not-so upstanding citizens who run this… Asylum? Sanatorium? Bed & Breakfast? Clinic? Should really think about getting some less dangerous furniture. Though, it should be noted the reason Joey Silvera looks so shocked as he watches Tianna and Tom Byron perform the longest wet hug in history has nothing to do with unsafe amenities. He’s, like, where’s Tianna’s cock? I bet he’s hoping that her character grows a long erectile clitoris at the anterior end of her vulva. I think he would lick that. I mean, like that.
While pretending to write on a piece of paper attached to a clipboard, Joey Silvera’s Dr. Haunt tells Lauren Brice’s Dr. Sledge that he’s “gathering data.” I don’t believe him for a second. He’s either using the clipboard to obscure his sort of raging early ’90s porno hard on from view or doing a logic-based combinatorics number-placement puzzle. What’s that? Maybe he’s doing both? Yeah, baby! Multitasking like a boss, yo.
On moist days, I like to imagine myself as a clitoral chambermaid. One who is gleefully saddled with the task of sifting through uranium soaked soil in search of out of the ordinary orgasm deposits.
She cut off her balls because she wanted to frustrate doctors and scientists by rendering the physical representation of her orgasm invisible to the non-glistening eye. Her plan backfires when an elongated clitoris grows in its place. You nurture it by rubbing it. And that’s exactly what she does every night before self-induced unconsciousness takes over the luminous cloud that swirls above her head like a tornado.
Oooh! Stockings! Remember those? Mouthwatering legs encased in stockings. Oh, yes. While wearing white stockings, Dr. Sledge is talking to a patient in black stockings with her legs wide open. I’m not the best at reading body language, but I think Dr. Sledge is about to starting poking and probing her patient’s Lima bean-shaped glandular girl thing with her tongue… all the while bathed in blue rinsey dreamy gutter light.
Quick lucidity-based observation: This feels more like a continuation of the Dr. Caligari universe than it does the Nightdreams one. Hell, even Lauren Brice’s voice and mannerisms reminded me of Madeleine Reynal’s demented doctor. (So, it’s sort of the porn version of Dr. Caligari?) Not quite. One enlarged clit and one armpit vaginal cavity don’t make it Dr. Caligari. Uh-uh.
According to the opening credits, the “special” makeup effects were done by Otis Elwell. I know, Otis who? I can’t seem to find his name listed among the twenty odd makeup artists who worked on Dr. Caligari. Hmmm. Either way, this motherfucker makes a mean armpit vagina.
The way too brief underarm cunnilingus scene is an excellent mix of off-kilter and body horror. And it perfectly encapsulates the idiosyncratic appeal of Rinse Dream. If only the entire film had been able to maintain this level of inventiveness. But let’s be realistic, there will be no sentient box of Cream of Wheat at the end of this rainbow.
