-Grindhouse Fest spotlights the cult gems, sleaze classics, and deranged wonders that defined exploitation cinema’s golden run. Proceed with delight and caution-
Directed by Peter Perry Jr.
Written by Peter Perry Jr.
Starring:
- Dwan Marlow as Marion
- Anton von Stralen as Fiend (credited as Anton Van Stralen)
- Doug Leith as Frank
- Peter Perry Jr. as Garageman (credited as Dick C. Crane)
Rating: 
Peter Perry Jr. had been hustling sexploitation since the late ’50s, so he knew there was gold in those innocent-looking nudie cuties. This lands after The Immoral Mr. Teas and the nudist camp cycle had proved there was money in clean-cut skin, but before Monster of Camp Sunshine and Herschell Gordon Lewis started upping the ante. That makes this a 1961 nudie cutie, made when sexploitation was already off and running but still gleefully making it all up as it went.
And Honeymoon of Terror ultimately works best not as an excuse for aimless peeping, but as a surprisingly good-natured slice of exploitation with a playful streak. At its heart lies a premise whose sweetness is matched only by its gleeful absurdity. A freshly married couple picks Las Vegas for their honeymoon, spends the day soaking up all the expected Sin City attractions—casinos, go-go girls, cocktails—and eventually checks into a modest little motel, ready to seal the deal.
This is where Peter Perry Jr. really earns his keep, transforming the flimsiest setup into one long, irresistible joke. The newlyweds behave like two sheltered virgins trying to reverse-engineer the birds and the bees from scratch. The sweet, fair-haired bride has more modesty than a nun guarding the communion wine, while her courteous husband carries himself with the dutiful politeness of a palace butler. Just watch how absurdly long it takes these two to actually get around to the honeymoon part. Watching them inch toward consummating the marriage becomes the film’s funniest running gag, played with infectious charm and an unexpectedly deft sense of comic sexuality.
After spending all that time basking in its goofy innocence, the happy couple decides to take their honeymoon festivities to a remote island. Bad move. Unbeknownst to them, this little slice of paradise happens to be occupied by a hulking sexual predator. And just like that, the horror crashes the honeymoon. These so-called horror scenes—which lean much harder into the “rough” side of sexploitation than the earlier “cutie” charms—mostly boil down to one chase after another, stretched so thin they eventually start playing like slapstick. They wear out their welcome, but that’s the price the movie pays for trying to have it both ways.
Even on what was obviously a bargain-bin budget, Peter Perry Jr. always had more craftsmanship than the average nudie-cutie hustler. His films carry themselves with an easy confidence and a surprisingly classical sense of visual order, making Honeymoon of Terror feel far more refined than its exploitation credentials might suggest. Like so many early skin-flick relics, it’s a weird little movie that’s just as entertaining for its historical quirks as its bare flesh.
