Toys Are Not for Children

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Customer Reviews

Overall Rating : 5.0 / 5 (1 Reviews)
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Top Customer Reviews

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This adult film is not for childish minds!’

Infrequently lauded, forward-reaching, boundary-blasting grindhouse impresario Stanley H. ‘Two Girls ’ Brasloff reaches his onanistic apogee in his sexually squirrelly, infamous sadistically anti-Sirkian incestuously fatuous, perfectly perverted, preternaturally potty, ribald pot-boiler 'Toys are not for Children’ (1972) is arguably one of the most sinisterly outrageous soap operas ever conceived to bodaciously boggle previously thought as ‘un-boggle-able’ minds! Taking a distinctly degenerated, salaciously-skewed John Waters approach to sweaty-palmed family values, Brasloff luridly paints an especially grimy portrait of the sin suppurating Godard family, whereby we enjoy an especially flavoursome titillating titbit of lusciously ripe young Jamie Godard (Marcia Forbes) squirming sweetly upon the bed forcefully appropriating her childhood plush toy for distinctly fervid tasks, perhaps, entirely extra to its original design! With gloriously scummy, sit-com aplomb, the marvellously malevolent mommy Godard (Fran Warren) wafts angrily into the bedroom not best pleased by the blatantly orgiastic sight daughter James throaty exhortations of her absentee father! And from this heady ‘opening’ we joyfully descend into the transgressive manifestly strange milieu of gamine, infantilized Jamie’s troubled, rigorously unconsummated marriage to peachy-keen, handsomely lean Toy Shop co-worker Charlie (Harlan Cary Poe) and her singularly insalubrious, somewhat misguided quest to locate her long errant, highly suspect, serially whoremongering father via the entertainingly bizarre, circuitously disturbing route of ersatz mother/guardian/whore Pearl (Evelyn Kingsley) and enduring some especially queasy undertakings of her truly venal pimp Eddie (Luis Arroyo). The myriad technical aspects to the film are quite exemplary, of a much higher standard than the outré subject matter might suggest, especially notable is the robust quality of acting, which surprisingly gives this exceptionally dark and fetishistic tale of starkly forbidden familial love some remarkably heartfelt pathos, usually absent from similarly illicit 42nd Street fare. Frequently mentioned, and deservedly so, the blissful opening theme ‘Lonely Am I’ is an ear-wormingly delightful ditty and prettily belies the occasionally sordid details of child abuse and its inevitably deleterious effects upon the wholly corrupted lives of those involved.

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