A Climax of Blue Power, Uncut (1974)

81% (50 / 11)

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Description: AKA: Deviate in Blue
Scene Breakdowns
Scene 1. Starlyn Simone, I. William Quinn
Scene 2. Starlyn Simone
Scene 3. Betty Childs, Cindy Taylor, I. William Quinn
Scene 4. Angela Carnon, faceless guy
Scene 5. girl, guy
Scene 6. Angela Carnon, I. William Quinn
Scene 7. Angela Carnon, I. William Quinn
Review:
Short, blandly handsome Jason Carns, a seemingly ordinary and unassuming nice guy next door type gone horribly bug crazy wrong, gives a frightfully plausible performance as lowly security guard Eddie, who gets his twisted deviant carnal kicks by pretending to be a Los Angeles police officer who joyfully browbeats, manhandles and elicits unpaid sexual favors from street hookers while wearing a fuzzball uniform and driving around in a phony cop car. One day Carns witnesses a housewife (bewitching brunette Linda Harris) in the act of killing her no-account husband; this in turn causes the already seriously nuts Carns to go further around the bend and succumb to depraved delusional fantasies in which he has his sadistic way with Harris.

From its shocking opening sequence depicting Carns cruelly taking advantage of a frightened prostitute to the electrifying final face-off between Carns and Harris (complete with jolting rape and an exciting last reel automobile chase), this harsh, aggressive, fiercely confrontational psycho sickie roughie porno from the late, great Lee Frost profoundly scares and unsettles, spewing forth 84 harrowing, brutality-ridden minutes that are jam-packed with plenty of nerve-jangling full-throttle dementia and perversity. Frost's blunt, no-nonsense direction, the eerie, ethereal score set to a pounding pseudo-disco beat (said score also boasts a haunting recurrent whistled theme), the flat, unpolished cinematography which adroitly captures the plain, plodding rhythms of mundane everyday life, the authentically lurid L.A. locations, several jarring visualizations of Carns' savage power trip fantasies, the mean, hard-hitting dialogue, the frequently quite startling all-out nasty rough sex tableaux, and the unusually strong and credible acting from a mostly no-name cast (the sole familiar faces are skinflick starlets Rene Bond and Uschi Digard as massage parlor girls, plus longtime Frost collaborator Wes Bishop as a detective and legendary exploitation producer Bob Cresse as the massage parlor owner) are all uniformly tops. Moreover, the film's hard, gritty, almost unbearably razor-sharp edge digs deep into the darkest, most base and disturbing wacko recesses of the human psyche. Hell, this unbeatable outing even possesses a commendably daring and provocative subtext: The flagrant abuse and mistreatment of power and authority, with especially revealing insights on role playing and how men use sex as a means to an end for totally controlling and dominating over women.

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