Showing posts with label spanish fly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spanish fly. Show all posts

3 Aug 2023

In the Shower with Leslie Phillips

 
Fig. 1 Leslie Phillips and Shirley Eaton in Carry On Constable (1960)
 Fig. 2 Leslie Phillips and Andrea Allan in Spanish Fly (1976)
 
 
On-screen nudity can either be suggestive or explicit. 
 
But just as a porn film that lacks graphic content has no raison d'être and will fail to arouse its viewers, so too a comedy that moves beyond sexual innuendo and the briefest flash of bare flesh into the full-frontal realm will ultimately cease to amuse its audience. 
 
For it seems that in order to sustain laughter, even a risqué comedy requires bath towels and bed sheets. It must remain rooted, that is to say, in a sexually repressed culture of inhibition and embarrassment; a nudge-nudge, wink-wink culture of drawn curtains and lights out - not a pornified culture of indecent exposure.
 
This is illustrated by two scenes in films starring Leslie Phillips ...
 
The first is in one of my favourite films of the Carry On series - Carry On Constable (dir. Gerald Thomas, 1960). 
 
In his role as PC Tom Potter, Phillips is called to a house to investigate a suspected intruder. But what he discovers is a young woman (played by Shirley Eaton) taking a bath. Whilst viewers are treated to the sight of her naked back, the scene retains its charm, its innocence, and its good humour. 
 
In contrast, however, there's a rather gratuitous shower scene in a film described by Barry Norman [1] as the least funny British comedy ever made, Spanish Fly (dir. Bob Kellett, 1976).
 
Now in his fifties, but still playing the smooth-talking Lothario for which he was famous, Phillips is directing a photo-shoot in Menorca with a group of four models, including an Australian girl known as Bruce (played by Andrea Allan), whom he encounters in a hotel bathroom. 
 
Whilst viewers are afforded plenty of opportunity to ogle her (rather magnificent) breasts and watch as Phillips washes her back, the scene lacks precisely the charm, the innocence, and good humour of the one in Carry On Constable and makes for slightly uncomfortable viewing in an age of #MeToo. 
 
Sadly, as the sauciness of the late-1950s and early-1960s gave way to the soft-core seediness of the 1970s and Phillips et al were obliged to compete against much younger, raunchier actors - such as Robin Askwith, who starred in the Confessions movies (1974-77) - the triumph of latrinalia was complete [2].  
 
 
Notes
 
[1] Barry Norman, for those who don't know, was a British film critic and journalist. He famously presented a film review series on the BBC from 1972 to 1998. 
      I tend to think his assessment of Spanish Fly is a bit harsh. It's not quite as dire as many like to believe and although the script is piss poor (much like Sir Percy's wine), it has a strong cast that not only stars Leslie Phillips and Terry-Thomas, but also features Frank Thornton, Sue Lloyd, and seventies sex bomb Nadiuska. 
      Plus, the film also features a rather catchy song performed by the Irish singer Geraldine, called 'Fly Me' (written by Bill Martin and Phil Coulter and released as single on EMI in July 1975). Infinitely more enjoyable than anything released by recently deceased (and hugely overrated) Sinéad O'Connor, readers are invited to click here.    

[2] Many critics at the time decried this triumph of soft-porn smut, largely blaming it on the sexual infantilism of the viewing public. It should be noted, however, that the British sex comedies of the 1970s were enormously successful at the box office and have since undergone significant critical reappraisal. 
      Ultimately, although I prefer Carry On Constable to Spanish Fly (or Confessions of a Window Cleaner), I would hope that my view isn't simply rooted in a mixture of moralism and snobbery. 
 
 
Bonus 1: Click here for the Carry On Constable trailer. 
 
Bonus 2: Click here for the Spanish Fly trailer (in HD). 
 
Bonus 3: Click here for the VHS trailer for Confessions of a Window Cleaner (dir. Val Guest, 1974).