Twisting children’s
stories to insert adult subject matter is nothing new, so it’s not as if Fairy Tales—a sleazy sex comedy with
musical numbers—gets points for novelty. In fact, it doesn’t get points for
much of anything, though an honest review must acknowledge that perhaps one of
every hundred jokes approaches wit. Furthermore, a couple of the songs are executed
competently. Beyond those not-worth-the-trouble attributes, Fairy Tales is dreary. A prince awakes
on his 21st birthday and discovers expectations that he will soon copulate,
presumably as a means of demonstrating his ability to produce heirs, so three
old men—his “sexperts”—provide a compliant woman who strips off her clothes and
mounts the prince. He fails to perform, explaining that he only has eyes (and
sex drive) for someone named Princess Beauty, occasioning a quest to find her.
Along the way, the prince meets a horny Little Bo Peep (“I’m up to my ass in
smelly old sheep!”), an oversexed Snow White (who sings about her “seven times
a night” living arrangement), a frustrated Jill (turns out Jack is gay), and,
eventually, the Old Woman Who Lives in a Shoe. She’s a madam, and her shoe is a
brothel with lots of kinky BDSM chambers. (The Andrews Sisters-type number
featuring naked dominatrixes is particularly distasteful.) Like other
low-budget sex comedies of the ’70s, Fairy
Tales is so boring to watch that one’s mind wanders to questions about the
film’s creation. How did the producers find so many women willing to humiliate
themselves onscreen? Why did so many has-been and/or never-were comedians agree
to participate? And what the hell is Motown singer Martha Reeves doing here as
a witchy chick singing a disco number from inside a smoking cauldron? Whatever.
Even contemplating these notions for a moment requires giving Fairy Tales more time than it deserves.
Fairy Tales: LAME
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