WENDY'S PALACE boasts a talented director (Kemal Horulu), a soft-core super-talent (Linda Boyce), so on paper it should have been a winner. Alas, it's a D.O.A. example of a half- hearted porn film that belongs to a previous era, accounting for its obscurity.
Though DVD distributor Vinegar Syndrome slots it in its "Drive-In" series, this film was not drive-in movie material and unfortunately was released after hardcore porn had already outdated the earlier soft-core art form. Neither fish nor fowl, it wouldn't please Adult Cinema patrons of 1971 and 1972, and I can't imagine drive-ins (which I regularly attended) booking it in place of far more entertaining Corman (New World), Buckalew (Boxoffice Intl.) or Crown Intl. product.
Boyce plays a hooker but even as a fan of her great mid-'60s starring roles I couldn't recognize her, incognito in a horrible wig. She buys (for 4,000 smackers) a call girl service from retiring madam Ute Erickson, also wearing a lousy wig but more easily spotted underneath.
Her adventures as the new madam are boring and stupid, and the parade of whores servicing johns is equally boring and stupid. Horulu, who already had at least one classic under his belt (the brilliant SOME LIKE IT VIOLENT) must have had budget cuts during filming, because most of the picture ends up being MOS, requring florid and nonsensical narration to knit it all togeher.
Main plot line of her on again, off again romantic affair with cop, then ex-cop Patrick Wright (whose wife has a pointless cameo later) is entirely unconvincing and really only exists in voice-over.
The sexiest woman in the stable, a character named Jill with rosy nipples and a visage and figure that presages current sweater girl fave Christina Hendricks, is left out of the credits entirely.
Strictly soft-core, there are a couple of hotter (still soft) shots featured in the movie's trailer, also incuded in the 2-fer DVD. That DVD is pretty sloppy too; in its on-screen menu of choices the title is spelled "Wedny's Palace".
I've seen all of Kemal's movies with the exception of his biggest hit ALL ABOUT THE SEX OF ALL NATIONS, which like other fake-documentaries at the dawn of the '70s packed 'em in at the box office. He mixed quality work with stinkers, like this one and even worse the unreleased THE ALL American HONEYMOON which Something Weird unearthed belatedly and I seemingly was the only person to buy a copy.
