As before, ignore the intro.
Hey kids it's me, Your Favorite Mortician, and I'm back at the movies and I assure you I washed my hands before I handled my genitals before I used the movie seat armrests! This week I had the pleasure of watching the obscure porn flick, Necrophiliac, and now I'm ready to yuck it up about a topic that’s always on the minds of the folks in the Funeral Industry, Necrophilia. Necrophiliac, the movie, could be seen as a nice little blurb on the detrimental effects that grief can have over the bereaved.........or it’s just a movie about a guy who fucks a corpse.
We begin in a funeral home, or the set of a funeral home that was built in someone’s garage, where the visitation for a nice young deceased lady is taking place. Enter her grief stricken boyfriend who is not only sad, he’s horny. A very common occurrence amongst the living is the feeling to fuck, a lot, and I've been told it's an internal evolutionary response to death to remind us WE'RE ALIVE! So let's celebrate with things that inflate and things that fold! The grieving boyfriend throws the casket spray atop his dead girlfriend's casket to the ground and rips open the lid - take note future apprentices, not locking the casket for a closed casket visitation is a very easy way to get fucking fired!
With no one around to stop him the boyfriend tilts the deceased’s head back quite easily and thumbs open her mouth, also quite easily. Out comes his purple colored liberty bell and into her mouth it goes. After a few pumps and groans he completely ruins her makeup; that'll be an additional restoration fee please.
But don’t count the boyfriend out yet, he moves on down towards her baby making center, pulls off her undergarments then pinches and pulls at her folds for a while before he reciprocates the favor she just afforded him - talk about hamming it up for the camera up folks! Now I know people think hair keeps growing after you die, but it doesn’t, you've just watched Indiana Jones wayyyyyy too many times! However it seems like the filmmakers wanted to propagate this urban myth because this woman is sporting one densely grown pubic area that looks like it would even give the topiary artistry of Edward Scissorhands a run for his money. After the boyfriend gets her cadaveric motor humming (Gross!) he hops in the casket, flips the corpse around so her soul can't escape and finishes round two. His orgasm, worthy of Meg Ryan's performance in When Harry Met Sally, and erratic bodily jerks are a little too much and he causes the casket lid to come crashing down on him. The end.
Necrophiliac is rife with issues that makes THIS Mortician, Your FAVORITE Mortician, cringe. If this was at my mortuary I would be following Mr. Romeo as soon as he walked through the front doors. Rule one: don't let anyone just wander around a mortuary alone, ESPECIALLY a boyfriend of the deceased. These mopey bastards usually have their own ideas on how to pay respects to the dearly departed. These can include putting rambling letters written in pink or purple ink, joints, or condoms into the pockets of the dead - I'm serious! My favorite example of a forlorn boyfriend is showing up drunk to the funeral home, climbing on top of the body then bawling out horrifically lurid details about their sex lives. In that story though the boyfriend chose to do that with the whole family in the chapel. I believe the deceased's grandmother was surprised to hear she got her pussy shaved in a shower by him when they were 'yo we were trippin' on molly.' Other bad habits that people get when they wander around a funeral home alone is stealing a ton of cookies and candy, refilling cup after cup of coffee, clogging the toilets, filling garbage cans with crap from their cars, and thinking of dick head questions to ask as they leave. A few stalwarts I love are 'so do they like ever move?' or 'are you guys like, hiring?'
Now let's address the actual scenario of having sex with an embalmed corpse. I'm going to take a guess this movie was made in the late 70's or early 80's when embalming chemicals were still a little crude and the outcome was rock hard, gray bodies that had to get lacquered up with a lot of makeup and hairspray. So I'm a little skeptical on how easy it was to prop the deceased's head back and open her mouth, since that should have been either stitched shut with twine or bolted shut with needle injectors.
Once the boyfriend gets done with her head, he moves to her magenta oven and I find this pretty impractical as well. When bodies are embalmed they can get a little taught; think of trying to fuck a basketball through the inflation hole. When I was slinging embalmed cadavers for medical conferences I had the horror of watching surgeons and anatomists try and figure out if the female cadavers had uteruses or not. This entailed grown men jamming their elbows into the abdomen of dead, little old ladies, in an attempt to push down their uterus into a 'feelable range' for their other hand that was lodged into old Betty's vagina. The bell shape felt on their middle index finger meant they had a cervix and more than likely a uterus. These gals could then be utilized for certain labs over others.
Now, I feel I'm a crude person by nature - possibly displaying signs of Asperger Syndrome - but this was one scenario I didn't want to partake in and risk having it on replay in my conscious forever. So I left this task to the professionals. In my protest the Allied Health Professionals told me the cadavers should be checked before they're embalmed because it's basically impossible to feel anything afterwards. Great, I grinned and gave them my business card with an invitation to play bowling ball with any and all vaginas at any point from here on out because there was no way in hell I was going to.........ever. I glanced over to another group surrounding a table with cold Ethel on it and then overheard, 'well these damn gloves don't help either, it's not like in the old days before we HAD to where them.' Think about that before your next checkup kids.
Necrophiliac is an odd 10 minute watch that's good for a laugh and a head scratch. It stars the “high-risk for immune deficiency disease” porn legend Jamie Gillis as the very animated and dedicated boyfriend and the alarmingly square jawed Tina Russell as the movable corpse who can’t seem to figure out that the dead don’t breath. Both are dead now, in real life, so hopefully they reprised their roles in Necrophiliac when they met in hell.
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