In the nudie flick The Muthers, which opened this month in 1968, two groups of people located somewhere in Southern California between No Budget and No Inhibitions spend an inordinate amount of time putting the ’60s ethos of free love to the test. You have the teens, who party and get laid, and the mothers, who do the same, but with more skill. The movie is just a lighthearted little softcore romp, quaint by today’s standards, but notable for the fun attitude it brings to the proceedings. The plot, such as it is, eventually coalesces around one teen’s feelings of neglect and tendency toward self-destruction, and the title derives from the fact that for some reason she can’t spell “mother” properly.
But don’t let our suggestion that there’s a plot scare you—this flick is just one long sex scene after another. None of it is explicit, or even frontal for that matter. Mainly the performers just grind and wiggle. But it’s still pretty stimulating because one of the moms is Virginia Gordon. For those unfamiliar, Gordon was an in-demand nude model, who, like a fine reposado tequila, just got more golden and more potent as time went by. She’s in her thirty-second year in this film, and her body makes every other performer, including those twelve years younger than her, look like walking cookie dough. Safe to say your muther—or mother, even—never looked like that.
I know—you can’t take your eyes off them, can you?
Grinding is how I keep my muscle tone. Three-hundred fifty reps to go.
