The true mark of any good skinflick, is not having to use the ffwd button on your remote. Such is the case with "Joy," which plays like a good mainstream B-movie. Sharon Mitchell comes across like a young Barbra Streisand. She's even able to cry on command! A humorous "Barney Miller" meets "Death Wish," this classic has above-average acting & storyline, lavish sets, on-location in NYC (most romanticized city in TV/film), and fairly arousing sex scenes. If you tire of today's assemblyine of porn (silicon, blonde, zero plot), then "Joy" is sure to be to your liking. Just like Classic Coke & Classic rock, Classic porn can do you no wrong! LOL!
4 Reviews
An early Sharon Mitchell film.
lvcowboy10 August 2001
This is one of the first Sharon Mitchell films. She demonstrated a special talent in this film that sent her on a successful career.
It is about a young high school girl that is pressured by her boyfriend to have her first sexual experience. She refuses him, and he decides to break up with her.
Then while at home alone, gets raped in the apartment which she resides, and immediately loves the whole sexual experience. In the end, even telling the rapist, "I want more!!!".
She then goes to her old boyfriend apartment where she finds him in the shower. She gets undressed and hops into the shower with him. She then performs oral sex on him and he, needless to say, enjoys the experience. But after he is finished, she still "wants more".
The rest of the movie is filled with her quest for more sex with several partners, at many different locations, including a subway train, a hospital bed, and even a men's room in a bus depot.
She becomes very popular and well documented, even on a TV news program. Other women take up the same type of aggressive action of attacking men. Three girls accost a lone man in an elevator. A burglar breaks into an apartment to perform oral sex on a man, while his wife who has refused his advances earlier, sleeps in their bed.
This is just a great light hearted movie that is very enjoyable viewing, filled with casual happy sex, and showing that women can be aggressive when they want to be.
FIVE BIG STARS!!!!
It is about a young high school girl that is pressured by her boyfriend to have her first sexual experience. She refuses him, and he decides to break up with her.
Then while at home alone, gets raped in the apartment which she resides, and immediately loves the whole sexual experience. In the end, even telling the rapist, "I want more!!!".
She then goes to her old boyfriend apartment where she finds him in the shower. She gets undressed and hops into the shower with him. She then performs oral sex on him and he, needless to say, enjoys the experience. But after he is finished, she still "wants more".
The rest of the movie is filled with her quest for more sex with several partners, at many different locations, including a subway train, a hospital bed, and even a men's room in a bus depot.
She becomes very popular and well documented, even on a TV news program. Other women take up the same type of aggressive action of attacking men. Three girls accost a lone man in an elevator. A burglar breaks into an apartment to perform oral sex on a man, while his wife who has refused his advances earlier, sleeps in their bed.
This is just a great light hearted movie that is very enjoyable viewing, filled with casual happy sex, and showing that women can be aggressive when they want to be.
FIVE BIG STARS!!!!
Joy of Man's Desiring
Nodriesrespect20 July 2012
Warning: Spoilers
On the surface a raucous rape reversal satire pushing back boundaries even in a decade not particularly known for political correctness, JOY has a far more serious agenda bubbling barely below, fueling the ongoing sex versus violence debate in truly transgressive fashion. "Harley Mansfield" (as in Harley Davidson and Jayne Mansfield, an unlikely if characteristic combo of machismo and old school Hollywood camp) was long believed to be the late Chuck Vincent operating under an alias until a 2014 revival screening courtesy of Distribpix's Steve Morowitz revealed his true identity. The mistake, in retrospect, was easy enough to make. The movie actually plays as an audacious attempt to add a novel spin on the straightforward sophisticated sex comedy formula with which Vincent had successfully solidified his admirable adult industry reputation. Poking fun at one of society's serious ills by turning a morally reprehensible situation completely on its head fits in beautifully with the spirit of search which characterized Chuck's career at this very stage. Indeed, the film's working title of THE FEMALE RAPISTS suggests that subtlety had not been an issue right from inception. Still, the results (and the controversy they stirred up) startled the one time director - who did serve as an editor on Vincent's SEX CRIMES 2084, incidentally - to such a degree that he would never own up to his involvement right up until now that the dust has settled. Since then, leading lady Sharon Mitchell and MANIAC's Bill Lustig (who DoP'ed, learning the trade on countless NY adult sets before branching out into the "real world") have gone on record to confirm.
Veering back and forth between the traditional roughie territory of rape 'n' (sometimes) revenge dramas that were a '70s staple and clever comedy, JOY still strikes as an incongruous hybrid that has lost little of its power to perturb adult audiences out of their carnal complacency that comes with a set of rigid rules this naughty little number cheerfully shatters right from the get-go. Allegedly not quite of legal age as this film was being shot, with release held up until after she had turned 18, Mitchell shines as the titular Joy, a "good" girl unwilling to give it up to her jock boyfriend Ricky (one shot Jay Pierce) who promptly breaks up with her as a result. Coming home in tears to the apartment she shares with her unseen mom, she answers the door to a pair of delivery guys only to have her maidenhead forcefully taken from her...and finding out she really likes it along the way ! Once her passion has been "unlocked", there's no turning back. First port of call is the ungrateful Ricky, surprising him in the shower. Hilariously, his response is to accusingly point a finger at her and shout : "You're naked !" Either frustrated or enlightened, depending upon interpretation, Joy embarks on a nightly NYC rampage, "raping" unsuspecting male "victims" yet simultaneously - and as befits her all but incidental name - "spreading joy" by assuaging uncertainties patriarchal society prohibits them from fessing up to. A married man (Bob Bolla's Fred) admits he hasn't come in months and a gawky teen (Frank Kenwood, another single shot stud) nervously thumbs through a manual moniker-ed "How to Pick Up Girls" in a deserted subway carriage.
As other women follow suit, harried cop John Han(d)cock (porn's resident "senior citizen" Jake Teague, looking more handsome than ever, courtesy of an actually matching hairpiece for a change) mobilizes his team to put a stop to this "outrage" that's upsetting the male-dominated status quo, even though a TV newscaster dryly states that other crime rates have plummeted since the estrogen-fueled rape spree took off and congratulates Joy (whose identity has been revealed through a pair of discarded panties at a "crime" scene) on bringing love to the streets of New York. This Utopian bliss is then rudely interrupted, coincidentally (?) by another racial stereotype (black Jesse Wilson) who corners Joy and handcuffs her to a staircase before banging some "sense" into her, spouting mean-spirited verbal abuse like throughout. If the scene shocks, as indeed it should, this is entirely by design as Mansfield readjusts his fun-house mirror distortion to fit the ugly truth.
Dragged to the police station, Joy's strapped down to a gurney to keep her from "corrupting" the menfolk but still manages to convince the curious Handcock (who caught his wife in flagrante with the plumber, a ten second sex scene inexplicably wasting high profile performers Gloria Leonard and Bobby Astyr) to loosen her ties, along with his belt ! Allowing to let her go free on the condition she leaves town never to return, he drops her off at the airport where she makes a beeline for the men's room in a climax worthy of both her name and film's title, Joy breaking down the fourth wall ("There you are...") prior to fade-out.
Sex is tailored to fit the narrative rather than the other way round as was to become the industry "rule". Apart from the concluding pile-up, the hottest scene has bumbling salesman Herschel Savage muttering to himself in an elevator as a predatory trio moves in for the "kill". For contrasting tenderness, there's the tentatively paced time out between Mitch and wide-eyed gal pal Crystal Sync (still sporting the buck teeth she'd already had fixed prior to pic's belated release) who would prove one of adult's most underrated actresses as evidenced by her absolute career turn in Roberta Findlay's superlative psycho thriller THE TIFFANY MINX. Like most NYC shot sexploitation, JOY benefits tremendously from its realistically grimy surroundings, as unlikely a setting for the movie's wishfulfilment pleasure paradise as can be imagined. In this respect, Lustig's lens-work which wallows almost voluptuously in the city's splendid squalor produces imagery one can almost smell and even taste.
Veering back and forth between the traditional roughie territory of rape 'n' (sometimes) revenge dramas that were a '70s staple and clever comedy, JOY still strikes as an incongruous hybrid that has lost little of its power to perturb adult audiences out of their carnal complacency that comes with a set of rigid rules this naughty little number cheerfully shatters right from the get-go. Allegedly not quite of legal age as this film was being shot, with release held up until after she had turned 18, Mitchell shines as the titular Joy, a "good" girl unwilling to give it up to her jock boyfriend Ricky (one shot Jay Pierce) who promptly breaks up with her as a result. Coming home in tears to the apartment she shares with her unseen mom, she answers the door to a pair of delivery guys only to have her maidenhead forcefully taken from her...and finding out she really likes it along the way ! Once her passion has been "unlocked", there's no turning back. First port of call is the ungrateful Ricky, surprising him in the shower. Hilariously, his response is to accusingly point a finger at her and shout : "You're naked !" Either frustrated or enlightened, depending upon interpretation, Joy embarks on a nightly NYC rampage, "raping" unsuspecting male "victims" yet simultaneously - and as befits her all but incidental name - "spreading joy" by assuaging uncertainties patriarchal society prohibits them from fessing up to. A married man (Bob Bolla's Fred) admits he hasn't come in months and a gawky teen (Frank Kenwood, another single shot stud) nervously thumbs through a manual moniker-ed "How to Pick Up Girls" in a deserted subway carriage.
As other women follow suit, harried cop John Han(d)cock (porn's resident "senior citizen" Jake Teague, looking more handsome than ever, courtesy of an actually matching hairpiece for a change) mobilizes his team to put a stop to this "outrage" that's upsetting the male-dominated status quo, even though a TV newscaster dryly states that other crime rates have plummeted since the estrogen-fueled rape spree took off and congratulates Joy (whose identity has been revealed through a pair of discarded panties at a "crime" scene) on bringing love to the streets of New York. This Utopian bliss is then rudely interrupted, coincidentally (?) by another racial stereotype (black Jesse Wilson) who corners Joy and handcuffs her to a staircase before banging some "sense" into her, spouting mean-spirited verbal abuse like throughout. If the scene shocks, as indeed it should, this is entirely by design as Mansfield readjusts his fun-house mirror distortion to fit the ugly truth.
Dragged to the police station, Joy's strapped down to a gurney to keep her from "corrupting" the menfolk but still manages to convince the curious Handcock (who caught his wife in flagrante with the plumber, a ten second sex scene inexplicably wasting high profile performers Gloria Leonard and Bobby Astyr) to loosen her ties, along with his belt ! Allowing to let her go free on the condition she leaves town never to return, he drops her off at the airport where she makes a beeline for the men's room in a climax worthy of both her name and film's title, Joy breaking down the fourth wall ("There you are...") prior to fade-out.
Sex is tailored to fit the narrative rather than the other way round as was to become the industry "rule". Apart from the concluding pile-up, the hottest scene has bumbling salesman Herschel Savage muttering to himself in an elevator as a predatory trio moves in for the "kill". For contrasting tenderness, there's the tentatively paced time out between Mitch and wide-eyed gal pal Crystal Sync (still sporting the buck teeth she'd already had fixed prior to pic's belated release) who would prove one of adult's most underrated actresses as evidenced by her absolute career turn in Roberta Findlay's superlative psycho thriller THE TIFFANY MINX. Like most NYC shot sexploitation, JOY benefits tremendously from its realistically grimy surroundings, as unlikely a setting for the movie's wishfulfilment pleasure paradise as can be imagined. In this respect, Lustig's lens-work which wallows almost voluptuously in the city's splendid squalor produces imagery one can almost smell and even taste.
Ode to Joy
Kaliyugaforkix3 July 2011
Warning: Spoilers
Returning home, Joy (Sharon Mitchell) is attacked in her apartment and raped. Instead of wailing & teeth gnashing though Joy gleefully embraces this assault to an insane degree, turning a potential hot potato into high farce in a way that would've had Andrea Dworkin doing somersaults six-feet-under. Joy, in what summarizes the genre (hell, the era) screams out her high rise window while topless 'MORE', turning the act on its head by literally raping anybody person in her immediate vicinity. Soon, her flagrant actions inspire other frustrated femmes to go hunting for a satisfactory screw, breaking into married couple's bedrooms and taking the nearest spouse by force.
It becomes a grass roots revolution as perfect strangers copulate their brains out in public, city crime hilariously plummeting as steam gets collectively blown off (pardon the pun). Yes siree, it's the quintessential 'Free Love' ideal preached by the flower power choir that was supposed to establish our new golden age. The idea of 'love' as liberation is the thesis of this amusingly naive flick, a half-glimpse of a sexual utopia (pornotopia?) that never materialized.
The status quo here is represented by the horribly pun-named Lt. Handcock. Finding jobs untenured, taxes unpaid and endless screwing couples on the streets, Handcock takes the lead in returning safe boring normalcy in the wake of hurricane Joy. The Establishment must target the revolutionary hero to quell the rebellion's spirits. Too late, Joy's new gospel has reached too many willing ears. A firm non-believer and staunch eeevil patriarchal traditionalist, the LT. is finally foiled though by Joy's irresistible allure and defects to the other side.
In one particularly outrageous scene, Joy has Handcock penetrate her with his service pistol (no his *other* service pistol) fellating the gun barrel along with Handcock. Remember, frequent early criticisms of porn claimed women were often forced into performing on camera at gunpoint- again an explosive concept reduced to chuckles, the menace and misogyny offset by Joy's cries of enjoyment, Handcock's inexperience and hesitancy and the light-hearted tunes all robbing the sequence of its edge. Its just another taboo to be brought hilariously down, one more phallus swallowed.
With Handcock converted to the new philosophy, Joy flees her hometown of NY in exile, the better to soil new seeds in distant lands still under the tyranny of sexual repression. At first the viewer thinks Joy, walking through the arrival gate & rebuffing friendly overtures, has reverted to her former slave state. Inhibited, frigid, afraid- but then, Joy of Joys, she heaves up her luggage and marches straight into the men's room, crisis of faith overcum in taking on four willing bathroom studs. After the spent suitors exit the washroom, all grins and chuckles, Joy turns to screen: 'Oh, I didn't know you were there' smiling suggestively whilst unbuttoning her blouse....Vive la revolution!
Self aware porn, Joy preaches the benefits of sexual healing and the only real cruel misuse of this new found power is Joy's stairwell rape by pursuing agents of the Man. Made intentionally ugly and hateful, the Establishment tries to hurt Joy by perverting her own teachings.
An entertaining free love fantasy, the visualization of a stunningly naive thought process. Its pleasantly optimistic and anticipatory with an enlightened madonna/whore to guide us infidels through the birth pangs of a New Age. It's quite the porno pipe dream, worth a few chuckles/boners. Too bad it turned into a nightmare we've yet to awaken from. Star Sharon Mitchel was brutally raped in reel life.
It becomes a grass roots revolution as perfect strangers copulate their brains out in public, city crime hilariously plummeting as steam gets collectively blown off (pardon the pun). Yes siree, it's the quintessential 'Free Love' ideal preached by the flower power choir that was supposed to establish our new golden age. The idea of 'love' as liberation is the thesis of this amusingly naive flick, a half-glimpse of a sexual utopia (pornotopia?) that never materialized.
The status quo here is represented by the horribly pun-named Lt. Handcock. Finding jobs untenured, taxes unpaid and endless screwing couples on the streets, Handcock takes the lead in returning safe boring normalcy in the wake of hurricane Joy. The Establishment must target the revolutionary hero to quell the rebellion's spirits. Too late, Joy's new gospel has reached too many willing ears. A firm non-believer and staunch eeevil patriarchal traditionalist, the LT. is finally foiled though by Joy's irresistible allure and defects to the other side.
In one particularly outrageous scene, Joy has Handcock penetrate her with his service pistol (no his *other* service pistol) fellating the gun barrel along with Handcock. Remember, frequent early criticisms of porn claimed women were often forced into performing on camera at gunpoint- again an explosive concept reduced to chuckles, the menace and misogyny offset by Joy's cries of enjoyment, Handcock's inexperience and hesitancy and the light-hearted tunes all robbing the sequence of its edge. Its just another taboo to be brought hilariously down, one more phallus swallowed.
With Handcock converted to the new philosophy, Joy flees her hometown of NY in exile, the better to soil new seeds in distant lands still under the tyranny of sexual repression. At first the viewer thinks Joy, walking through the arrival gate & rebuffing friendly overtures, has reverted to her former slave state. Inhibited, frigid, afraid- but then, Joy of Joys, she heaves up her luggage and marches straight into the men's room, crisis of faith overcum in taking on four willing bathroom studs. After the spent suitors exit the washroom, all grins and chuckles, Joy turns to screen: 'Oh, I didn't know you were there' smiling suggestively whilst unbuttoning her blouse....Vive la revolution!
Self aware porn, Joy preaches the benefits of sexual healing and the only real cruel misuse of this new found power is Joy's stairwell rape by pursuing agents of the Man. Made intentionally ugly and hateful, the Establishment tries to hurt Joy by perverting her own teachings.
An entertaining free love fantasy, the visualization of a stunningly naive thought process. Its pleasantly optimistic and anticipatory with an enlightened madonna/whore to guide us infidels through the birth pangs of a New Age. It's quite the porno pipe dream, worth a few chuckles/boners. Too bad it turned into a nightmare we've yet to awaken from. Star Sharon Mitchel was brutally raped in reel life.
See also
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