In Alex de Renzy’s Fantasy Girls, the red light district of San Francisco is staked out like a sexual playground while the working stiffs of Ruby’s Massage Parlor trade pleasure for a price. It’s a functional establishment, replete with wood panelling, garish wallpaper, mirrors with gold-vein accents, and a crack staff of eager and enterprising young ladies working between the two poles of their boss and the lady who straightens the rooms up afterward.
While there is absolutely nothing to the story itself, Alex de Renzy puts forth his first proper feature that finds more freedom in the bustle of the city than was had in the the bucolic backyards of Little Sisters. We spend approximately 24 hours at Ruby’s in something that resembles a porn California Suite where the audience branches off into each room which reveals a small amount of depth about each of the characters. Some of these are lightly dramatic (such as the one with Bonnie Holiday), while others are played strictly for laughs (an early moment with a young and hilarious Jamie Gillis). There is a running through-line regarding the tarot cards that are read by Tessie (Tessie Lynn) and the future of all of the girls, but it’s a wisp of a thread.
Unlike the grittier, guerrilla approach taken in Little Sisters, de Renzy gets more to work with in terms of time and locations. Little Sisters wasn’t as interested in the sex as it was telling a dirty fairy tale that sent up the squares. Fantasy Girls is a little bit the opposite. This is the type of film that bets big on the sexual encounters and correctly figures the energetic lustiness will leave viewers dazed and slack-jawed. Like Little Sisters, Fantasy Girls is also genuinely funny when it wants to be, but it’s much more polished in almost every conceivable way.
A milestone in de Renzy’s evolution of a narrative filmmaker, Fantasy Girls gives him the time and space to do what he does best; one-off encounters that highlight varying kinks and flavors amid a healthy mix of players. Like most of his movies, it’s not as concerned with a heavily plotted narrative, but what’s there is more than enough. Everything else is playful, funky, and hot. Save and except Tessie Lynn peeing on a customer (upon request, natch), the movie doesn’t get too far out there and everything is played for funsies.
Coming in hot in 1974, Fantasy Girls is a terrific showcase for a number of its cast members, but the true standout is Lynn. Though she only appeared in a handful of titles, this is probably her most notable role, and one that highlights the sunny personality that radiates beyond her mile-wide smile. Fantasy Girls also houses one of Sharon Thorpe’s first appearances, though she isn’t given a whole lot to do with her (sizable) role as the new girl who is green on the scene who doubts her ability to be a full contact masseuse before bungling her way into the occasional sexual situation. And there is no doubt that the one-and-done unknown in the scene with Tyler Reynolds is the type of lady Bob Chinn was requesting when he asked the agent to send an actress over for the role of Mrs. Hamilton in Johnny Wadd.
Aside from the cast and the refreshingly unpretentious dip into healthy hedonism, one of the secret ingredients in the success of Fantasy Girls occurs in the middle of the movie and involves zero sex. Clair James’s trip to the lawyer is not only a good scene because of the natural exchange and understanding between the two, but also because what doesn’t happen. It’s like watching the backstage drama at a theme park where pleasure is a business. Like in the actual world of porn, there isn’t a lot of intimate fraternization between the talent, the filmmakers, or the people who keep them legal. In Fantasy Girls, the title says it all. The good times are transactional. You want to have fun, you gotta pay. You want to have even more fun? That’ll be another $20. It’s what capitalism is all about.
(C) Copyright 2025, Patrick Crain
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