In the first few years of the MPAA’s rating system, an X didn’t have the stigma that eventually led to it becoming equated with pornography. Many serious films were initially given that rating, only to be re-rated as R later. Films like Midnight Cowboy, A Clockwork Orange and Medium Cool. It isn’t often movies from that era get re-rated to receive the modern-day equivalent of X, the NC-17. When that happens, you know you are going to see something special.
Such is the case of 1975’s Inserts, a little remembered film starring Richard Dreyfuss, Jessica Harper, Bob Hoskins, Veronica Cartwright and Stephen Davies. That’s it—that’s the entire cast.
It is surprising this picture did not appear to impact the career arc of Dreyfuss at all, as this was between Jaws and Close Encounters. I think it is interesting audiences still accepted him, and producers still came calling, after appearing here as an alcoholic, impotent director who has been reduced to making a porno in his home.
Although the particulars are never given, his character was a legend in the silent movie era, but was unable to transition to talkies. His friend, and star of his latest picture, is played by Veronica Cartwright. She is a junkie and former star who is another victim of the advent of sound. We also do not know for certain why she fell from grace, but her grating, baby-doll voice is a likely culprit.
I like seeing Cartwright in films, though she is often the most frightened and hysterical of the cast in anything she appears in. One thing I always like about those performances is she seems to be the audience surrogate, the only person who completely locks up when facing a xenomorph or hordes of pod people. But I have never seen her before as she is here. I don’t just mean how little clothing she wears for much of her screen time, but how she is such an outgoing sex object in this picture.
Her costar in the film-within-this-film is Stephen Davies, condescending dubbed “Rex, the Wonder Dog”. I found it interesting how Cartwright’s character would usually be described as a bimbo, yet there is a lot more going on upstairs than she was likely ever given credit for. On the other hand, Davies is definitely a “himbo”—an endlessly scheming dimwit who will never make it past any of the many casting couches he is doomed to briefly occupy.
Dreyfuss seems to think the porno he is directing is more sophisticated than other such pictures, but the scene we watch him film is violent and disturbing. Apparently channeling his impotence into rage, he encourages Davies to hit Cartwright and then strangle her with his ascot. Cartwright’s subtly shifting expressions are a marvel in this bit, as we can tell she is wondering just hard dark this is going to get. I’m sure her character was wondering if this was still acting, or if this could possibly become a snuff film.
Everybody is so caught up in the moment they fail to notice the arrival of Hoskins, their producer. He has cash for Davis and smack for Cartwright. He has also brought along Harper, his squeeze who wants to get into the movie business. She has a lot of questions for Dreyfuss and the, uh, consummate scene shows how far she will go to get that knowledge.
Funny how many of the studio movies that push the envelope for sexual content are usually the least sexy films imaginable. This one may have even more sexual content than Crash, and yet somehow manages to be even less sexy. Perhaps the most intimate moment is when Dreyfuss helps Cartwright shoot up, tying up her arm with a necktie. At least that moment is tender. She’s even shy about the track marks and raised veins in her elbow, while have no insecurities about baring all.
The one thing I didn’t expect is how funny this picture is. There aren’t any lines I think of to present here that would make sense without providing a glut of context. This is the kind of humor which is I guess is closer to wit. There’s an especially good scene between Hoskins and Rex has some great comic moments in it. The timing of these two performers is perfect.
I hate it when people use phrases like what I’m about to say, but the the living room in Dreyfuss’s mansion is like a sixth character. There’s open bottles all over the place, and I’m not sure if he ever takes a drink from the same one twice. The cigarette burns all the white piano seem to tell a story all their own. As if being a discarded relic from the silent era isn’t bad enough, he’s the last holdout on his block in a neighborhood soon to be razed to make way for an interstate. Progress, in multiple forms, is destroying his life.
I have always heard the Hollywood studio system of the 70s was the heyday of the mavericks. Inserts is a stellar example of the kinds of risks the major studios were willing to take at that time—probably the last time they would.
Dir: John Bryum
Starring Richard Dreyfuss, Veronica Cartwright, Jessica Harper, Bob Hoskins, Stephen Davies
Watched on Starpix