Exotic House of Wax, The (1996)

Written and directed by Sybil Richards
Starring
- Blake Pickett
- Jacqueline Lovell
- Everett J. Rodd
- Eric Acsell
- Elizabeth Kaitan
Produced by Pat Siciliano
Executive produced by Charles Band (uncredited)

I’m not sure, and I’m too lazy to check, but I think The Exotic House of Wax might be the first wax museum movie ever in which no animated wax figure (or corpse disguised as a waxwork) meets a hideous end by fire. That’s pretty much the only distinction this flick has going for it; it’s competent for the most part, and borderline clever in spots, but the strictures of the genre leave it as little more than late-nite cable TV filler.

During a brief wordless prologue under the credits set in 40 B.C. Egypt, Cleopatra (Yvette Lera) demonstrates that she was a particularly lusty monarch, more than willing to to swing both ways. Then mercifully (because the ancient Egyptian setting wasn’t at all convincing), we fast-forward to the present day, as four college friends prepare to say goodbye and go their separate ways after graduation:

Star (Jacqueline Lovell), the giddy New Age chick who blames the crystals stored under her bed for erotic dreams;
Josie (Blake Pickett), Star’s roommate, who’s got sort of an unvoiced thing for Pete;
Pete (Everett J. Rodd), the slightly jocky fellow who covers his own attraction to Josie with jokes and pranks; and
Andy (Eric Acsell), the business major. (What, you were expecting the business major to have a personality?)

Just as they’re all packing up, Josie gets a phone call that her grandfather Vincent (ha!) had passed away. With her parents on a photo safari in Africa (!), she’s the only family member available to take care of his estate, which includes an unprofitable wax museum in Santa Monica.

“So, no one told us life was going to be this way.” (Clap clap clap clap.)

The meeting with her late grandfather’s attorney (Kurt Schwoebel) proves to be one of the most stunningly inept portrayals of the legal profession ever committed to celluloid. After deeming Josie both executor and sole heir, he has her sign a paper, and then informs her that she’s also now the guarantor of debts to the bank and to the IRS. And why didn’t he tell her before she signed? “You wouldn’t have signed.” I’m thinking that after a complaint to the State Bar – that he was definitely NOT acting in the best interests of the client estate, that he legally obligated Josie under false or misleading pretenses, and that he did so by having her sign an unnotarized document without witnesses — this clown’s going to be happy to find a job flipping burgers. (Yeah, I know; it’s a movie about magically-animated wax figures having sex, and this is where my suspension of disbelief fails?)

Star exuberantly proclaims, “I think we should try to save the House of Wax!” (Normally, when you hear those words, you immediately think that the girls are going to don bikinis in an effort to save the establishment from its nasty creditors. Or at least, that’s what I think, given the movies I’ve seen.) Together, the four friends take a tour through Grandfather Vincent’s pride and joy. Well, I think I can guess why the museum hasn’t been profitable for years; it doesn’t even look like it’s been open for business. But they soon discover that he had been planning to reopen it with a new twist: The Erotic House of Wax, displaying facsimiles of history’s greatest lovers in blush-inducing situations. It’s pretty easy to tune out the dialogue in this scene, while you watch the poor actors playing the waxworks try not to twitch or sway.

They move into Grandfather Vincent’s apartment behind the museum for a few days, as Andy tries to sort out the books. But all is not as it seems; there’s a hooded figure creeping around the museum, clutching a huge Egyptian amulet that we recognize has having last been seen nestled between Cleopatra’s ladybumps. The figure interrupts Josie’s gratuitous shower, but then spooks, letting the girls get a look at the amulet before retrieving it later in the night.

Retrieving it to do what? Glad you asked. The hooded figure places it around the neck of the Cleopatra waxwork (Yvette Lera again), who’s being serviced by the Mark Anthony waxwork (Rob Lee). And when Star wanders by the display at the stroke of midnight…

Grope like an Egyptian.

Oh, come on. You know what happens. The wax figures start to get all flexible, if you know what I mean. For minutes on end they caress and tease and bump and grind to the tune of lite adult contemporary guitar solos, all while Star looks on, enchanted. To tell the truth, the sexiest thing in this scene is Jacqueline Lovell’s facial expressions; faux softcore grindage has never had much appeal for me, but Lovell alone inspires more enthusiasm simply by her reaction than the mute actors do for all of their writhing and groping.

Obviously, no one will believe that what Star saw was anything but a dream (despite the fact that even a cursory inspection of the exhibit would reveal that the Cleopatra and Anthony waxworks are now inexplicably naked), and the friends go back to their pseudo-soap opera, with Pete and Josie each wondering if they should tell the other how they feel. But come midnight, Andy’s traversing the display floor, and there’s the amulet around the neck of a brawny Casanova (Rick Phares) with two tender lasses (Yvette Lera, previously seen as Cleopatra, and Bobbie Marie), and at the stroke of midnight…

Acsell’s facial expressions aren’t nearly as effective as Lovell’s in portraying sexual excitement, and even the presence of a threesome can’t really compensate, so the only other thing to note here is that I giggled while observing the anachronistic bikini tan lines.

To stall between this episode and the next night’s escapades, we have some little semblance of a plot: Angela Wingate (Elizabeth Kaitan, in a piece of casting irony), representative of the Santa Monica Improvement Committee, comes to tell Josie in no uncertain terms that her community group will attempt to get the wax museum shut down, should Josie’s business model follow the one her uncle had been attempting. (Okay, maybe I could believe that if this were a community in Utah – but come on! This is Santa Monica, here!) With the apparent community non-support and the $25,000+ which are due within the next 30 days to various agencies, Josie seriously contemplates selling and shutting down.

Hey, THAT’S not how you build a human pyramid!

But not before Andy drags Pete down the next night to see the wax figures come to life. This time, it’s the Romeo and Juliet balcony scene (David Stone – last seen as Cleopatra’s slave in the prologue – and Petra Sexton), wherein Juliet demonstrates that she is definitely NOT a fourteen-year-old girl. To the tune of yet more contemporary guitar solos.

Finally, as Andy, Pete, and Star realize that they’ve all seen pretty much the same thing, they prevail upon Josie to come down the next night and see for herself. But oh, the fickle winds of fate plot; nothing comes to life for her benefit. However, soon after they all go to bed, the mysterious robed figure enters Josie’s room and drapes the amulet around her next. Next thing you know, Josie’s slipped into Pete’s room to consummate that unspoken attraction. Cue the lite guitar solos.

When Pete accidentally snaps the amulet from Josie’s neck, her mood abruptly changes; and thanks to the robed figure knocking over a coatrack, the four friends finally capture their midnight visitor: A mute girl named Eve (Lisa Sutton), whom they recognize from a picture of Josie’s Grandfather Vincent. A few minutes of badly-mimed explanation later, we have the following backstory:

Eve is a member of a mystic “order of the amulet” which dates back at least two millennia and which goes about, using these amulets to help people release their sexual inhibitions and get happy. (And bring wax figures to life to have sex.) Oh, and she’s got absolutely no problem with using the amulet to turn the wax museum into a cash cow. Which I find a little odd. Look, I know that this is a sexploitation flick, but it seems bizarre that an acolyte of a sex-worshiping secret society would whole-heartedly approve of selling sexuality.

I guess that as long as there are still freebies, Eve’s conscience is clear. And there’s still a big freebie to come: She bring to live the lesbian due of Venus and Aphrodite (Bobbie Marie again, and Nikko) while she and Star watch, and eventually it turns into a big sapphic free-for-all. (Repeat earlier comments about Jacqueline Lovell’s talents in this regard. Everyone else in the movie does a satsifactory job of trying to look sexy during their scenes. Lovell has the rare talent of looking like she’s honestly having fun.) There’s also a snippet of clever dialogue in which Star mentions that her twin sister Sun has been abducted by aliens before; that’s a reference to Lovell’s character in Femalien (1996).

Amazing how quickly we reach the point of strutting around in front of our housemates in our underwear, isn’t it?

At last, opening day arrives, and the inaugural crowds are treated to a special exhibit, as close to “dangerous sex” as any Surrender Cinema video: A tableau of the Marquis de Sade, an assistant, and two captive women (Bobby Young, Billy Cardi, Taylor St. Clair, and Leigh Matchett) comes to life for their enjoyment. Of course, to keep things from geting too fetishistic, the sadism is limited to some for-show bondage, a bit of light paddling, and a few dribbles of hot wax. (Apparently whoever conceived of this scene kinda forgot that we’re dealing with magically-animated wax figures here; shouldn’t the participants end the scene with pocked holes melted into their torsos?)

Much to my surprise, the movie doesn’t end with Josie and friends being arrested for presenting what certainly looks like a live sex show for an unsuspecting audience; instead, they get loud applause. And even the prudish Angela Wingate is overcome by the sensuality of the sadism scene and decides to call off her moral majority and instead purchase a season membership. The end.

Aside from the accoutrements of the last scene, and the really iffy ethics of using the mystic amulet to earn filthy lucre (I know, I’m obviously thinking too hard about this), The Exotic House of Wax succeeds admirably in one of the major unstated goals of the Surrender Cinema movies: It’s entirely sex-positive. None of the “dangerous sex that leads to obsession and violence” that dominates the erotic thriller genre; this is softcore that works heartily to be non-icky.

And even by the softcore standards of the Charles Band empire, it’s pretty good. Let’s take as our comparison the lackluster Lurid Tales: The Castle Queen (1996): Despite the apparently larger budget on the latter film (as evidenced by actual location shoots), The Exotic House of Wax boasts better acting, better dialogue, and yes, better-choreographed softcore scenes. (Better music? Well, you have to really like adult contemporary guitar…)

Ancient Greek bikini-line tats? You learn something new every day…

But what limits this and all of the other Surrender releases from rising above a level of mediocrity is ironically one of its strengths: The lack of “dangerous sex.” Not that I enjoy seeing sex portrayed as dark and edgy and risky. But I do understand that, at least in better erotic thrillers, sex which carries the overtones of betrayal and risk are dramatic. They contribute to plot momentum and dramatic tension. By contrast, because Surrender Cinema movies keep the sex upbeat and positive, we have these ten-minute scenes in which no dramatic tensions can be introduced or even referenced. That makes for a movie which really can’t build up a head of steam in the story department.

But who am I kidding? These movies aren’t made for people looking for a compelling story. They’re for people who want to justify bringing home softcore videos by rationalizing, “It’s not a sex movie, it’s a sci-fi/fantasy movie!” And by that standard, I guess, The Exotic House of Wax hits all the bases.