– XXX is Celluloid Dimension’s latest weekly column featuring the hottest and naughtiest side of cinema. –
Directed by Danny Steinmann
Written by Danny Steinmann
Starring:
- Harry Reems as Herbie (credited as Richard Hurt)
- Tamie Trevor as Susie
- Jamie Gillis as Jack (credited as James Kleeman)
- Sylvia Beenenfeld as Louise – Herbie’s Mother
- Bertha Boobs as Large-Breasted Dancer
- Jutta David as Lesbian Speaking German
Rating: 
Even though it’s just one more in the slew of porno flicks cashing in on the Porno Chic phenomenon kickstarted by Damiano’s Deep Throat, Danny Steinmann’s nonsensical smut manages to look and feel weirdly funny and uncommonly entertaining.
The film is an odd creature—one that thrives in the space between humor and unease. It doesn’t take long to sense this; the moment a sexually frustrated woman begins her therapy session, the absurdity slowly starts creeping in. The conversation spills beyond its intended space, floating into the ether as the camera, with quiet precision, unveils a portrait of Freud and a young Montgomery Clift—watchful, omniscient, strangely present. But the real shock comes when this hopelessly horny lady, played by Tamie Trevor, embarks on a monologue about her sparse romantic encounters, one of which involves a frog. The way she tells it, the frog took advantage of her. The way the film presents it, nothing here is meant to be taken at face value. After much provocative discussion, the therapy session arrives at a bold takeaway—she needs to broaden her sexual horizons. And so the movie embarks on that journey, but what makes it special isn’t just the premise. The XXX elements unfold in an almost vignette-like style, reminiscent of an anthology. This unconventional structure gives the director free rein to toy with expectations, switch motivations, and playfully bend genre conventions. It may owe its tone to the grandest porno film of the 1970s, but its exaggerated, buoyant depiction of sexuality turns hardcore quirks into something far more entertaining than excessive.
The first carnal scene is perhaps the most bizarre. A man, laughably immature in his pleasures—portrayed by Harry Reems, sans his iconic stache—spends his days engrossed in model trains, dolls, and a childlike bubble of contentment. That bubble, however, doesn’t last long. Tamie Trevor enters, and innocence is promptly corrupted; they start fucking, though for the most part it’s just Tamie Trevor giving him a blowjob. Sounds pretty standard, doesn’t it? But High Rise embraces absurdity with sharp, unyielding humor, making its risqué moments as amusing as they are unpredictable, with plot twists and exaggerated gags heightening the spectacle. After this our indomitable nympho tries her luck with a lesbian couple, the trio end up having sex in a mirrored room. The following segment cranks up the absurdity with a remix—same premise, but now with a bisexual spin that embraces the freewheeling ideals of the ’70s. And then, the pièce de résistance: an orgiastic blowout that feels more like a circus than a climax. A boxer throws punches like he’s training for a title fight, blissfully unaware of the revelry beside him. A buxom woman boogies across the room, straight out of a Russ Meyer audition tape. And if you take a moment to scan the setting, you’ll see it’s decked out in pop culture relics—Chaplin, Superman, and a parade of Hollywood ghosts presiding over the chaos like bemused spectators.
Danny Steinmann may dabble in crude exploitation, but High Rise proves he’s not just about shock and smut. Sure, the film is explicit, but it isn’t a relentless barrage of insert shots—it’s a sensory experience built around music, sex, and an oddly cinematic flair. The theme song? Unreasonably catchy. The humor? Stupid, but in the best way. The pacing? Lightning-fast. And that ridiculous plot twist? Somehow, it works. Frankly, after watching High Rise, Steinmann’s later descent into Friday the 13th’s sleaziest chapter feels like a natural progression.
