Misunderstood Masterpieces: Exit To Eden
Posted by Will Helm on 01.11.2005
…or, My Eyes Have Just Burst Into Flames
Now, I know this may come as a surprise but, for those of you who don’t know, Anne Rice – last scene on the periphery of the wholly atrocious Queen of the Damned – has written books not involving vampires or witches. Hard to believe, I know, but it’s true. Of course, many of these works aren’t written by Anne Rice per se; most of them are credited to her alter ego, Anne Rampling. Much like Stephen King uses the pseudonym of Richard Bachman for many of his short stories and such, Anne Rice often uses her alternate nom de plume to craft works of erotic fiction, many of which pale in comparison to the commercial success of her well-known “Vampire Chronicles.”
One such novel is the . . . interesting Exit to Eden. Essentially – from the reviews I’ve read – it’s a love story with the trappings of the BDSM culture. Yes, a bondage romance novel. No lie. Anyway, for some reason, probably not having to do with the moderate box office success of the star-studded adaptation of Interview with a Vampire, someone in Hollywood decided to turn this quite . . . different novel into a film. Of course, since there isn’t any good in logical filmmaking, it was handed to romantic comedy master Garry Marshall, the director behinds such hits as Pretty Woman and . . . well, not much up to that point. It is quite odd when there’s a director that you think is prolific who actually hasn’t done much at all. Anyway, just to make things even stranger, someone somewhere along the line decided to cast Saturday Night Live alum and Misunderstood Masterpieces Hall of Fame mascot Dan Aykroyd (whose name I routinely spell incorrectly . . . I suck) and everyone’s favorite lesbian posing as a cuddly tomboy disturbingly obsessed with Tom Cruise, Rosie O’Donnell. Because when I think of BDSM, I think of Dan Aykroyd and Rosie O’Donnell. Shudder. Of course, these same individuals also made sure to fill the film with lots and lots of purposeless nudity, in case the jiggle factor was enough to distract the viewer from the incomprehensible plot. Is it enough? Honestly . . . what do you think?
Just because, we begin our film in Australia, where a giant-breasted maid spanks some kid, who enjoys the corporal punishment a little too much. Thanks for that little interlude, movie. Anyway, twenty years later, some guy with a vaguely Australian accent (Paul Mercurio) – who I suppose we are to assume is the kid from moments before all grown up – meets with the head actor of the Garry Marshall Repertory Players, Hector Elizando. It seems that the antipodean gentleman, Elliot, is a self-confessed romantic failure . . . in more words than I used. Thanks for sharing, Elliot. Now let E.T. phone home. Anyway, Elizando and Elliot agree that he needs to go to Elizando’s special island in order to cure his romantic problems because he’s an admitted “dishonest” lover. I guess he actually does like it when his woman uses the strap-on, then. Damned hypocrites.
After a terribly early ‘90s opening credits sequence, some plane lands in Los Angeles. Once at the airport, which is remarkably not busy, some extremely tall, thin Indian guy goes to the ladies’ room. Oh . . . speaking of Indian guys in inappropriate places, my lovely fiancée (I’m sure you remember her from the awesome The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and Clue columns) has a dinner party cookbook from 1962 she bought at a book sale some months ago. We were looking through it a few nights ago and noticed something very odd about the picture accompanying the “Two-Bird Thanksgiving Dinner” section; at the dinner table are your average Caucasian-American family . . . and a random Indian guy. And not “Indian” as in “Native American” – which would make sense – but Indian as in subcontinental. No lie. It’s like whoever was putting together the cookbook totally misunderstood the whole origin of Thanksgiving. I could just see the art requisition: “Needed: picture of an American family with Indians for Thanksgiving.” Someone really messed up there . . . and they ran the picture anyway. Awesome.
Anyway, inside the ladies’ room, the random Indian guy – he must get around – miraculously transforms into famous model (and wife of David Bowie) Iman. And then Iman strangles a stewardess into unconsciousness for no particular reason. At the baggage carousel, Elliot waits around and takes pictures of loitering HOT CHICKS and other unrelated things. He also takes a picture of Iman, much to her chagrin. Meanwhile, Iman loses her luggage in the carousel, so Elliot attempts to extricate it; in the process, he takes a picture of a bushy-mustachioed baggage handler taking something out of the duffel. Meanwhile, a random security guard shows up to pull Elliot off of the conveyor; Iman reclaims her bag . . . which is now without the case the baggage handler pulled out, which has inside a diaphragm filled with diamonds! I guess supermodels can afford that kind of birth control.
Meanwhile, at a XXX club in the middle of Los Angeles, Aykroyd is incognito as a quite awful disc jockey. Meanwhile, onstage, some strippers twirl and saunter lasciviously, much to the delight of the elderly, sleazy patrons. Included among the exotic dancers onstage: Rosie O’Donnell . . . in disguise . . . wearing only lingerie. AH! DAMN YOU MOVIE! MY EYES! THE PAIN! Ouch ouch ouch ouch. Dammit. As if by dumb luck, behind the scenes Iman and her baggage-handling accomplice (Stuart Wilson) are fencing the diamonds they pilfered earlier. Anyway, after a few moments of clumsy polework on the part of O’Donnell, it becomes plainly obvious that she and Aykroyd are in cahoots. My suspicions are confirmed as they both spring into action after the diamonds are brought to one of the elderly club-goers! It’s a bust! They’re cops Fred Lavery (Aykroyd) and Sheila Kingston (O’Donnell)! During the bust, Iman shoots someone as a distraction so that she and her airport-working friend Omar (who also happens to be one of the world’s most notorious jewel thieves . . . go figure) can escape. After the two criminals make their exit, a worthless voiceover featuring Sheila’s dulcet tones bring us up to speed on what’s going on in the movie . . . even though we probably could have figured it out already just by watching what’s going on. I suppose it’s for those who aren’t paying attention or have gone blind after seeing O’Donnell in lingerie. Sheesh.
Later, a taxi arrives at Elliot’s place to pick him up for his little journey while Dr. Joyce Brothers talks about BDSM on the television. Because when I want to hear about anal plugs, I want to hear it from Dr. Joyce Brothers. Anyway, it appears that the jewel thieves are staking out Elliot’s; when he leaves, Omar follows him to the bay while Iman searches his place for the offending film from his camera. Meanwhile, on a random sailing ship in the bay, Elliot gets an impromptu physical from a doctor. Over at the LAPD, the chief is stereotypically flustered, just as all police chiefs are. Helpfully, Fred and Sheila provide a modicum of exposition for him, to help him keep pace with the overriding plotline. According to our helpful detectives, hypothetically, the thieves will be following Elliot to this mysterious “island,” so the police’s best chance of catching them is there. Logically, it follows that there should be an undercover police presence, so the chief sends Fred and Sheila there as their next assignment. After learning of their new duties, Sheila then begins joking about “alternative lifestyles,” a bikini wax, and then describes her menses in detail to a very uptight Fred. OK . . . you’re a closeted lesbian. We get it! Now never talk about your menstrual cycle EVER again.
Back on the ship, fake Roy (of Siegfried and Roy fame) (Phil Redrow) shows up on the scene and all of the other passengers get naked. Well, all except for a bewildered elderly gentleman who thinks he’s on a ship to a golf camp, very thankfully. It seems that the remaining passengers are actually voluntary “bottoms” who have paid money to be slaves at the island resort. Interesting, huh? Don’t worry . . . it gets better. Back in Los Angeles, Fred goes over to visit with Elizando and makes terrible jokes about the “rough” lifestyle while there. Classy, to the last. Elizando just shrugs off Fred’s feeble attempts at humor, though, since he sees himself as a sexual visionary. Kinsey would be proud. Sometime later, the ship arrives at its destination: the unoriginally named (and titular – in more ways than one) “Eden.” Now, riddle me this, dear readers: why is it that every two bit ersatz island paradise in television or movies has to be named “Eden”? I mean, there was the terribly lame reality show Forever Eden a year or so ago and then, quite a few years ago, there was also the terribly lame PlayboyTV program Eden as well. Honestly, people . . . unless you can get a flaming, floating sword to fly around smiting people, it just ain’t Eden. Anyway, while some HOT CHICK (Stephanie Niznik) wakes up some important HOT CHICK (Dana Delaney), the “slaves” catamaran their way to the island from the big ship. Upon running aground, they jog their way, chained together, to a big tent filled with middle-aged folks. OH NO! This is like an episode of HBO’s Real Sex! Anything but that! I know you all know the way that show works; they’ll usually have something interesting yet lewd about strippers or porn stars or things of that ilk and then the next segment is about these middle-aged people who go into the woods to cavort in the nude like aging hippies. Man junk is generally unattractive . . . man junk surrounded by a prodigious mound of graying pubic hair, even less so. I just hope none of you were eating right then. Sorry about that.
Inside the tent of middle-aged sexual merriment, the slaves line up in order to be introduced by Laura Harring, who looks quite more bodacious than she did in The Forbidden Dance Is Lambada . . . if you catch my drift. You know, it’s quite rare for a woman’s bosom to blossom when she’s in her mid-20s. Before the introductions start, some helpful individuals carry the island’s lead dominatrix, Mistress Lisa, into the tent and set her down on her throne. Laura Harring then proceeds with the parade of willing slaves and all goes well until Elliot comes up to the front. At first, he’s reluctant to join into the festivities, but he warms up after a bit and plays to the crowd while disrobing; he tops of his performance with a bit of Carmen Electra-inspired booty shaking. Ugh. Mr. Marshall . . . that was just a BIT uncalled for. Unfortunately for Elliot, Mistress Lisa disapproved of his bootylicious performance, so she sentences him to a bit of humiliating work duty instead of the usual sexual play.
Over in Los Angeles, Iman buys some bondage gear and then, moments after she exits the store, Fred and Sheila show up. Leave it to the police to arrive just after their needed. Feh. While Fred tries a little something on, the clerk on duty gives Sheila some helpful bondage tips, giving me mental visuals I NEVER EVER ASKED FOR. And then, as if to give physical form to these disturbing thoughts, Fred comes out of the dressing room clad in a full-body gimp outfit. Ugh. And I try to subdue my gag reflex at that very moment. Back on the much more attractive island, Elliot does menial labor; meanwhile, at a class, some instructor encourages a middle-aged woman to talk dirty for the very first time in her life (See! Real Sex! I told you!). In addition to his usual duties at the resort, Elliot also takes some time to brazenly hit on Mistress Lisa, much to her and her HOT CHICK assistant’s amusement. Later, Mistress Lisa and her HOT CHICK assistant chat about Elliot’s origins and then they watch his Love Connection-esque video interview together. And giggle like giddy schoolgirls because he’s so dreamy. Can’t forget that.
Back at the LAPD, the chief scolds Fred and Sheila for no particular reason other than that is what he has to do according to hard-ass police chief stereotype. All during the dressing down, however, Sheila is distracted by the complex process of choosing a wig to complete her undercover disguise for Eden. Perhaps she should pose as a 20-year-old Burmese transsexual . . . then it’d be really hard to figure out it’s her. Elsewhere in the city, the thieves threaten some middle-aged, leather-clad bondage chick in order to gain access to Eden. Thanks for that little, unattractive interlude, movie. That evening, in Eden, Mistress Lisa has a random flashback which reveals that she has daddy issues. When she finally comes back to reality, it turns out than she and her HOT CHICK assistant are skinny dipping together while Elliot sits by the pool. After a bit of playful glances between Elliot and Lisa, Lisa gets out of the pool and, in the immortal words of Dudley Dawson, WE’VE GOT BUSH! Lisa then enrobes herself in a . . . robe and then uses Elliot as a chair, which is just an excuse for her to press her naughty bits into his back.
The next day, Fred, Sheila, Iman, and Omar arrive on Eden; unfortunately for Fred, he’s undercover as an employee while Sheila is undercover as a guest. No fun for Fred, sadly. Once inside the resort, Sheila gets her own personal slave (Sean O’Bryan) while Fred has to settle for a hernia examination by the doctor from earlier in the film. Fred starts his duties as a maintenance man and then has a little chat with his partner, who covers up for the fraternization by outlining her tampon needs with a member of the resort staff. Thank you, movie. Bastard. Later, Sheila goes to sex class, where she uncouthly questions Mistress Lisa as to our favorite dominatrix’s origins. It seems that Mistress Lisa is merely just looking for approval, so Sheila makes bad, rude jokes about it and then, unsurprisingly, we get a flashback to help us along in the storytelling. Back in college, a demure Lisa was dominated by a random English professor (John Schneider . . . yes, Bo Duke – sex freak), who introduced her to his good buddy Elizando. Once under Elizando’s tutelage, Lisa becomes his slave and protégé, all while listening to Enigma. During her education, Lisa and Elizando play annoying mind games until she is fully “empowered” by the awesomeness of sexual liberation. Now, in the present day, Lisa’s a cold control freak, which is just how she wants it to be. Meanwhile, she and Sheila bond over Gilligan’s Island for no reason in particular. OK . . . whatever, movie.
Later that day, a group of guests takes a tour while Laura Harring introduces them to various vignettes of sexual fantasies come to life, which all include their own chamber musician for some reason. Because nothing says “erotic perversion” like “Handel.” During the walk, Sheila and Fred have another meeting and we discover the very limits of Fred’s prudence. And those limits are short indeed, as he is righteously freaked out by the goings on on the island. Meanwhile, Sheila explains everything that’s going on, including the fact that Lisa is a fashion designer as well as dominatrix. Good for her . . . although she’s far too attractive to have anything to do with the fashion industry. Ninety-nine percent of the time, those are some of the UGLIEST people on the planet. If you ever want to be afraid, just check out E!’s Fashion TV sometime . . . it’s scary.
That evening, Elliot, who is now Lisa’s personal slave, helps to bathe his mistress and, during the process, reveals that he wants to get to know her better, and not just in the carnal sense. After this not-so-shocking development, a music montage starts, featuring Elliot washing and shaving Lisa quite lovingly. Speaking of which, could love be blooming? Is it possible? After the bath, Elliot brushes Lisa’s hair . . . then they put on facials and play Mystery Date together because they’re like bestest friends in the whole world! OK, actually, Lisa ties up Elliot and spanks him; then she blindfolds him and continues. She brushes his chest hair (?) and then smacks him around a bit with the brush and repeatedly asks him if he likes it. Umm . . . one word: uncomfortable. And not just in the physical sense. After he finally breaks down and admits that he’s enjoying her discipline, he starts crying. Aww . . . wimp. Take it like a man, because the strap-on is invariably next. Actually, next is Elliot sleeping on the floor next to Lisa’s bed. Didn’t expect that, did you?
Later that night, Sheila’s slave wakes her up just in case she wants to have some nocturnal fun; she instead tells him to sleep in front of her door . . . and he obliges. Meanwhile, Fred speaks his observations into a tape recorder, revealing that – unsurprisingly, since we knew it all along – he’s still freaked out by what’s happening around him on the island. Elsewhere, Elliot surreptitiously sneaks into bed with Lisa and has a midnight snack. After Elliot finishes his quite satisfying meal, Lisa, basking in the afterglow, tells her paramour her last name and then drifts back to sleep. The next morning, like any dominant personality, she regrets it. I bet she feels cheap like a whore, too. I hate it when that happens.
The next day, people play various cheesy “adult” sports and Sheila confesses to Fred that she’s horny. Ugh . . . TOO MUCH INFORMATION! I fear where this is heading. I really do. Later, Elliot goes to Sheila’s room, where they chat for a bit and Elliot reveals that he has a serious jones for Lisa because it seems that he makes violins play in his head. Hmm . . . that could be the chamber musicians on the fantasy tour, though. I wouldn’t read too much into that. Sheila, since she’s not just a cop, plays matchmaker as well, egging Elliot on to go for what he wants. Elliot, now emboldened, cuts the conversation off so that he can compete in a hackneyed rollerblade race in order to win some time with Mistress Lisa. While Omar watches and Fred feeds fish, Elliot – of course – wins the race. Surprisingly, Omar butts in after the victory and requests a threesome with him, his slave, and Elliot. Lisa, since she’s all jealous, gets up in Omar’s grill and says that Elliot’s still on work duty, so he can’t go off and play. This breach of bondage etiquette rankles fake Roy and the HOT CHICK assistant; beware, Mistress Lisa . . . there may be mutiny afoot! Fletcher Christian would be proud.
In her room – gulp! – Sheila dresses in S&M leathers. And my DVD player decides it’s not going to play this disc anymore. And my eyes instantaneously burst into flames. And the seas run read with blood. And the streets will be littered with the bodies of the nonbelievers. And . . . seeing Rosie O’Donnell scantly clad isn’t really the Apocalypse . . . but it’s close. Anyway, after dousing my eyes with fire-retardant salve and finding another DVD player that isn’t so temperamental, I continue on with the film for you, dear readers (and you better be damned grateful). Anyway, later, a – ugh! – leather-clad Sheila is informed by a staffer that Elliot is unavailable to continue their conversation from earlier, since his presence has been requested by Iman! Ooh . . . TENSION! In Iman’s room, the statuesque murderess attempts to strangle Elliot, but a still leather-clad Sheila – eew – busts in and saves him from the fate of asphyxiation. Unfortunately for Sheila, before she has a chance to question Elliot further, the HOT CHICK assistant shows up out of the blue and steals Elliot away. In response, Sheila tells her personal slave to go off and find out where Elliot went. Dum-dum-DUM!
Over in Lisa’s personal quarters, she’s packing Elliot’s bags because she’s throwing him off of the island. Too bad Jeff Probst isn’t on hand to see it. Even though you can probably see the emotion bubbling under the surface, Lisa is quite clinical about her decision. Meanwhile, Elliot still wants his rightful prize for winning the race, so he tells Lisa that he wants her to go with him to New Orleans for no reason in particular. She responds by telling him he’s “sweet” . . . which is pretty much just as good as saying “no, and you’re stupid for asking.” Elsewhere, Sheila’s slave fondles her a bit, despite her protestations. Meanwhile, Omar gets a massage from a topless HOT CHICK and Iman takes a shower with two guys. Almost immediately after, as if the island were in a wormhole, Iman and Omar come together – no pun intended – to threaten Sheila’s quite accommodating slave.
Surreptitiously (and surprisingly), Elliot and Lisa leave for New Orleans together. Back on the island, Sheila and Iman get into a fight . . . while wearing their leathers. Brain . . . confused. Attractive . . . unattractive . . . attractive . . . unattractive. Critical mass: immanent. Luckily for all of us (and my brain), Fred walks in to help subdue Iman . . . which pretty much entails Sheila clocking her in the chops. Ah, there’s nothing like good, old fashioned police brutality. Down in New Orleans, some skater dude (Scott Marshall, a.k.a. Garry’s son) gets a call from Omar and is given the duty of watching out for Elliot and Lisa, who serendipitously show up not long after. For some reason, they see some fake Tom Cruise/Brad Pitt guy (which is really an odd little moment that’s there for absolutely no purpose at all, since the guy in question looks like neither celebrity) and then Elliot learns that Lisa likes to cuddle after dishing out a good spanking. You know something? There’s nothing sexier than honesty. I assure you of that.
The next day, Omar heads to New Orleans; meanwhile, in the Big Easy, Elliot treats Lisa to some fresh baked croissants and then treats her like a bit of fleshy French toast. After some lascivious licking, the phone rings, and Lisa accidentally hits Elliot in the head with the receiver. Oddly enough, he doesn’t mind. Sick freak. Anyway, on the other end of the line is none other than fake Roy, calling to say that all hell has broken loose back on the island ever since Lisa ran off with Elliot. Lisa, now faced with the consequences of her impulsive actions, has a nervous breakdown. Elliot, meanwhile, responds to his ladylove’s predicament by taking her to a plantation, where a tour group laughs at the term “War of Northern Aggression.” Ah, there’s nothing like 140-year-old grudges. Get over it, people.
Anyway, miraculously, everyone else still involved in the plot – Omar, Fred, and Sheila – arrives in New Orleans. Once there, Fred and Sheila are appalled to learn that a recalcitrant desk clerk wants to see – ugh! – Sheila naked! The man must be suicidal or something. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, personally. Not even my worst enemy, Dr. Doom. Back at the plantation, Elliot and Lisa sneak upstairs to a secluded antebellum bedroom and, of course, get it on. Meanwhile, Omar goes to the mansion as well and, once there, he pays a post-coital Elliot and Lisa a visit. In Omar’s wake, Fred and Sheila also arrive at the mansion; inside, the aforementioned Omar pulls a gun on our favorite freaky loving couple. Elliot, perhaps unwisely, fights Omar, which somehow leads to the jewel thief pushing Lisa out a window . . . and onto the balcony beyond it. After a bit of TENSION, Sheila and Fred come to the rescue and shoot Omar into incapacitation and incarceration.
Later, at a New Orleans police station, Lisa is sad. Meanwhile, Fred completes an interview with Elliot, who wishes to console Lisa, but she’s having none of it. She instead walks out and, once down on the street, has another nervous breakdown. Back inside the station, Donna Dixon wanders in, since she’s supposedly playing the role of Fred’s ex-wife and he called her in an attempt to get back together with her. He also bought a little help in his quest to win back his ex’s love: he has a vibrator stashed in his bag! After Sheila finds Fred’s not-so-little toy, she reveals to him that she’s ovulating. Umm . . . OK. And here I would’ve thought she’d divulge that information if she had pulled out a turkey baster instead. Gobble gobble! Gigli would be proud. Sometime afterward, Sheila calls Elliot in an attempt to help patch things up between him and Lisa. Since, as we’ve established before, she’s not just a cop . . . she’s a matchmaker as well.
Back on the island, Lisa wakes up back, squarely, in control of everything. Sheila, out of the blue, arrives to pick up Elliot’s incriminating film . . . and also intervene on Elliot’s behalf, but Lisa’s still having none of it. I guess being a dominatrix is a good façade against unwanted intimacy. Anyway, after the informal chat session concludes, Lisa goes back to her bungalow to find her HOT CHICK assistant giggling and Elliot tied up and wearing a tuxedo in her bedroom. From that quite vulnerable position, Elliot proposes marriage; Lisa is apprehensive, but Elliot admits that he just wants her, regardless of the fact that she’s a noted dominatrix. You know . . . that would make one HELL of a sitcom! Mrs. Mistress, Sundays on FOX! I could just see it now: “Honey, you can’t bring your gimp to the PTA meeting!” “Sweetheart, the boss is coming over; please try not to whip him . . . again.” “He might’ve put my training leathers in the dryer for too long, but I do love that man of mine!” Laugh now; I bet it’ll be on the fall schedule. Anyway, Lisa accepts Elliot’s proposal and, meanwhile, Sheila discovers that her personal slave is also an insanely rich CEO who – for reasons unbeknownst to me – asks her out on a date. She, of course, says “yes” and they make out. Later, Sheila gives us the moral to the story: true love is the best fantasy regardless of sexual preference. Alright . . . we get it . . . YOU’RE GAY! Sheesh . . . if we had known then what we know now.
I have seen oblivion, and it lies in Exit to Eden. For all intents and purposes, this is a terrible movie. The romance plot is silly and the hackneyed – what did I say about this last week? – “diamond thief” plot is supposed to be humorous and it just isn’t. There’s a lot of nudity, but it almost borders on insignificant window dressing, as if it’s just there to be a distraction from the lack of quality surrounding it. This must be what Showgirls would be like if it were a romantic comedy. The only thing remotely interesting about this movie is the various levels of kink going on, but even that feels insincere, as if it’s some sort of winking, nudging joke. All in all, Exit to Eden is almost an old-school porn with the hardcore sex taken out: all that’s left is a terrible plot and nudity that leads nowhere. Although . . . speaking of old-school porn . . . eh, maybe some other time.
Anyway, come back next week as we take another voyage to Europe just to see how much foreign relations have changed in 20 years or so. See you then!
