With a cast of only five and a single apartment as the set, A Taste of Flesh tells a story of political assassination, rape, and lesbianism with bare-bones economy. While much of its homosexual innuendo pales in comparison to the average Will & Grace episode, the film is an example of the harder-edged "roughie" territory that exploitation director Doris Wishman (here billing herself as L. Silverman) moved into after the market for cutesy nudist camp features dried up. Wishman's cinematic language isn't easily understood by most, but those who are fluent will recognize the extraneous shots of lamps and feet, elaborate negligees, and mobile hand-held cinematography (courtesy of longtime associate C. Davis Smith). Despite these curious trademarks, A Taste of Flesh captures its images in a more refined style than some of the more haphazard pictures the director is responsible for, with some unique, visually arresting shots that almost make up for the plot's rather pedestrian staging. Like most Wishman films, no one in the cast is called upon to act; rather, the people onscreen function more as models, going through the motions of the story as an illustration of the soundtrack's post-dubbed dialogue. The cast were all regular players in New York City grindhouse pictures for directors like Joe Sarno and Barry Mahon and spend their time gazing into mirrors, grimacing at the camera, or taking enticing bubble baths. The female stars are attractive and don't mind spending the entire film in their sheer, lacy undergarments or less, making A Taste of Flesh feel like an advertisement for lingerie fetishism (one character even enters with the line, "You should see the delicious undies I bought!"). A Taste of Flesh was one of many films lensed in Wishman's own New York City apartment; the director was still using the same location and furniture in her productions more than ten years later for the delirious, sadistic A Night to Dismember.
by Fred Beldin
review
