Henry Fudd (Buck Kartalian) lives with his overbearing mother (Lynn Lundgren), has never had a wife or girlfriend and is stuck in a dead end job, so what pleasure is there for him in life? How about spying on couples indulging in sexual intercourse? It's being a Peeping Tom that keeps him going, and his preferred activity is to bring his lunch on his break and munch on his sandwiches as he watches the sex from the bushes, for this is an era where apparently couples are none too bothered about being seen when they enjoy themselves in the open air - if Henry can see, then it's no big deal, at least he's amusing himself. On the way home from one of these excursions, however, Henry hears a plaintive voice...
That voice doesn't belong to another pair of canoodlers, it belongs to a small potted plant with a pink flower, and once he has persuaded an extremely overfamiliar not to say highly camp florist (Art Hedberg) to part with it for a dollar, he takes it home. This was actually a variation on Roger Corman's tiny budget favourite Little Shop of Horrors, just different enough not to have to pay royalties, but similar enough to lament that Corman and company's humour and invention didn't appear to have inspired director Carl Monson (who appears as a detective) any further than it did. In the main this was simply a limp excuse to stage various sex scenes, regularly distracted by Henry's rather embarrassing antics.
Buck Kartalian was not your usual nobody appearing in a trash flick to pay the bills, or at least keep the wolf from the door for another month as he had a fairly respectable career, appearing often on television and alongside stars such as Clint Eastwood, but what he rarely secured was a leading role, which might explain the attraction to this. It didn't seem to be the chance to show up in scenes with naked women, as shots where he was looking on and eating sandwiches looked to have been filmed separately, though he did nearly get to play amorous with cult porn star Rene Bond in the latter stages as a late in complication to the plot sees murder introduced. Before that the deaths had been more accidental.
What it didn't feature was comedy that was funny, with laboured lines and situations getting in the way of the plentiful nudity, some of it skirting the edge of hardcore, more evidence Monson and his producer Harry Novak were unsure of how far to commit to the sex. One thing in its favour was some very bright cinematography which fairly popped off the screen, though unfortunately seeing everything in those garish hues merely made the movie appear all the more tacky and lacking in subtlety - not that subtlety in porn makes it a big attraction for audiences then or now, but it would indicate some level of professionalism rather than the crashingly obvious, not thought about too deeply, let's get this shit over with affair that was presented otherwise. The oft-grinning Kartalian didn't convince as a nerd (that cardigan didn't conceal the fact he was a keen body-builder), the scars on Rene Bond's breasts where the implants had been introduced were uneasily obvious, and the overall impression was rather sickly. Maybe they should have made it a musical instead?
