How’s this for a concept: An American Guy with a Sex Hang-Up Gets His First Taste of Scandinavian Sex Therapy. Socko! Add “Johnny” (William Howard) to play the guy (the same lanky, big-dicked, Johnny Wadd-type stud who stars in Hand of Pleasure and Terror at Orgy Castle), and mix well with “Erika”, an angular blonde with a heavy accent who plays the sex therapist. Throw the two of them together in a series of explicit sex scenes, splice in some terrific stock footage of picturesque Copenhagen, and lay over a narration that explains everything to the viewer. Zowie! As a formula for ’70s softcore, that would have done nicely. But the makers of Danish and Blue also had the good sense (and immaculate taste) to add a totally superfluous character called “Ketti” and casting Flesh Gordon’s Suzanne Fields in the part. The result: Smut Magic. Suzanne plays a maid-cum-sex-showgirl who literally latches on to Johnny and helps him overcome his sex hang-up. We meet her, along with Johnny, at a sex show featuring “authentic” Scandinavians like RON DARBY.There, we witness a series of acts that include a he-she dancer, two blonde lesbians, and a threesome. Later, Suzanne pops into Johnny’s hotel room and “picks up right where Erika, the sexologist, left off”, namely, at Johnny’s newly confident member.
The closeups of Miss Fields’ pretty pudenda are of priceless therapeutic value, and Johnny winds up “screwing himself into deliriums”, whereby he has kinky B&D nightmares involving Erika, Ketti, and the other sex-show performers. In the end, Johnny becomes “a new man” (specifically, “a healthy virile male animal”) who returns to America a swinger. His successful Scandinavian sexual therapy is must-see for all card-carrying Deviates. More wonderful lewdness from producer-photographer-distributor Manuel S. Conde and director Spence Crilly (Sisters in Leather) under his “Zoltan G. Spencer” nom de smut plume.

With Danish imports, purporting to be documentary sex films, burning up the box office in 1970, Zoltan Spencer/Spence Crilly cashed in on the craze with the obviously phony DANISH & BLUE, which is neither.
Gimmick is a guy named Johnny (William Howard) vacationing in Copenhagen for two weeks, anxious to see how they get it on in a freewheeling place where pornography has famously been made legal. After a pre-credits tease with a sex therapist (the scene duly repeated in sequence later in the film where it belongs), we see Johnny attending live sex shows and buying obscene photos in a bookstore. Lame construction has endless travelogue shots of Copenhagen intercut with shots of Johnny “looking” or reacting – he never left Hollywood. Whether this is stock footage or second unit shots is irrelevant; the entire film is patently bogus.
Suzanne Fields pops up as not just an on-stage sex performer, but also the girl in the porn photos Johnny’s bought AND also a servant working in the boarding house where he’s staying, popping up suddenly in his room to change his towels. That’s not all she does, as he hooks up with her for the duration of the film, treating the fans to simulated sex, full frontal male and female nudity, and the de rigeur split-beaver tight closeups of 1970 cinema. This not being a REAL white coater, the fans do not get any explicit hardcore footage at all, which probably was a disappointment given the XXX competition of the day. But Fields is styled to look quite beautiful and the other female lead, an unidentified blonde playing the sex therapist, is also a striking beauty. Likewise, Linda Wroom is a voluptuous blonde in a supporting role. Director Spencer indulges his usual fetishes, noticeably a fondness for s&m that surfaces in an idiotic nightmare sequence, where Johnny imagines being strung up and tortured by a caped creep (Spencer perhaps?) and having both the blonde and Fields approach him with huge shears, intent on castration. Most of the film is shot MOS, with heavy narration by Howard’s character. It ends with the sex therapist lecturing us directly about the virtues of Scandinavian openness, cementing the white coater premise. Package is not as interesting as Spencer’s other films, which usually have outlandish story lines to distract the viewer from his poor technique. In his body of work, this is closest to his desultory THE SCREENTEST GIRLS, another preposterously fake documentary.

no pass

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