An unfulfilled wife visits the Caribbean and experiences long-dormant passion in this curious feature from writer-director Edward Mann (HALLUCINATION GENERATION, WHO SAYS I CAN'T RIDE A RAINBOW?). Shot in 1969 as THE AWAKENING, the film debuted in 1971 with its new "Hot Pants" title and continued to show up in drive-ins as late as 1977 (with most Southern theaters carefully concealing the fact that its plot was centered around an interracial romance). Frankly, I'm surprised that it enjoyed such a healthy run. Though initially slapped with a X-rating, the film is more soggy soap opera than saucy sexploitation, with its story centered around a somewhat plain female protagonist played by 34-year-old Canadian-born actress Tudi Wiggins, who'd previously earned praise for local stage productions of "The Cherry Orchard" and "The Taming of the Shrew" and her touring company work, and also appeared in Paramount's acclaimed family film MY SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN. I guess slapping "Hot Pants" on the title was enough to reel in gullible moviegoers... Exhausted from her two rambunctious children and distant hubbie, affluent New York City housewife Jill (Wiggins) embarks on an impromptu, solo, week-long vacation in St. Thomas. While bunking with old college roommate Marion in her remote but palatial residence, black handyman MacIver (Christopher St. John) immediately catches Jill's attention. Enamored with this charming stud, MacIver shows her the sights, as Jill loosens up and jealousy grows amidst the local ladies, with MacIver content to simply juggle all of his lovers. Soon Jill feels conflicted about returning to her old life -- ditching her bratty kids in favor of steamy island sex that makes her feel "deeply alive" -- that is, until she discovers that MacIver is just another heartless horndog who'll screw any available female... Although the puddle-deep screenplay is largely uneventful, Wiggins turns in a commendably earnest performance, while St. John takes a more obvious route with his self-confident womanizer. Two years later, he would appear in SHAFT, then direct-write-star the blaxploitation mindblower TOP OF THE HEAP. With a story improbably credited to French Connection author Robin Moore (who could've scribbled the entire plot on a soggy cocktail napkin), a score composed by French jazz pianist Jean-Claude Pelletier and a ridiculously tragic conclusion, the most conspicuous aspect of this film is its lack of sex, nudity or on-screen heat. Sure, there's a smidgen of bare flesh, but Mann seems more interested in cinematographer Michael D. Murphy's vibrant St. Thomas footage -- visiting a High Priestess of Obeah, a trippy voodoo ceremony, as well as leisurely-paced scenes of boating, fishing, cavorting about nature, and a nude swim laced with scenic underwater photography (which undoubtedly had bored-shitless grindhouse patrons heaving empty beer cans at the screen) -- plus congested Midtown Manhattan in its opening two minutes. In case you were wondering, I don't recall seeing anyone wearing hot pants during its entire 80-minute running time.

© 2024 by Steven Puchalski.