Why do we spend our valuable time watching exploitation movies? Well, because we watch all pulp related genres of movies, from film noir to horror. So why discriminate? We also watch such movies (which is a set we figure includes sexploitation, blaxploitation, women-in-prison, and more) because owing to their sexual, racial, and political aspects, their like will probably never be made again. Last month we completed our look at Cheri Caffaro’s infamous Ginger McAllister sexploitation-spy trilogy. Now we’re moving on to her later work in Too Hot To Handle, which premiered today in 1977.
Set in and around Manila, Caffaro plays an experienced and wealthy assassin named Samantha Fox who takes on a difficult triple-contract. In order to succeed she’ll need all her skills of disguise, deception, and sexuality. Meanwhile the cops are on her trail. When one of the investigators gets close—real close—Caffaro takes a liking to him and, passing herself off as her alter ego Melinda Burroughs, tries to navigate sleeping with the enemy while fulfilling her murderous obligations.
All Caffaro movies are low budget, and all are bad. This one is poorly written and acted, and as usual there’s a touch of the kinky, both in front of the camera, as well as behind, as Caffaro’s husband Don Schain directs her getting her squeezebox fondled by hairy co-star Aharon Ipalé. That’s called commitment to the product and your art—or alternatively, finding a way to monetize your spouse-sharing fantasies. It didn’t improve the movie.
The only surprise here was that former top European star Corinne Calvet somehow got suckered into playing a brothel owner named Madame Ruanda, later dying as one of Caffaro’s targets. Alas, Corinne—sexploitation is a welcoming mistress for those desperate to pay bills, but next time we recommend a loan shark. The vig is a bitch but at least you get to hang onto your dignity. But even if Too Hot To Handle was too bad for Calvet to be in, it isn’t too bad for you to watch. Caffaro is weirdly great. In the sexploitation realm nobody did more with less.
The way you say that word makes me so hot. Say it again. Say… “epaulettes.”
Sorry, dude, I can’t reach that knife in your pocket. But I can hold your hand. It’ll comfort us both as we die of exposure.
Damn, girl. I never noticed before, but when the light hits your face just right you look a lot like Peter Frampton.
I think we all knew that Iota Kappa Ass has the most difficult initiations of all the sororities but this is just crazy.
It’s a revealing outfit for a military assault, I know, but after we shoot up this munitions depot we’re headed to the disco.
I think I just realized something. I don’t give a fuck about the revolution. I just want to ventilate some honkies.
I’m uniquely qualified to lead this revolution because of my grand vision and infallible foresight. Take my outfit, for instance. This will never go out of style.
