He Watched It Sober.

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Brad Grinter: Nudist

a/k/a Sweet Bird of Aquarius

ATOMIC Wedgies Part VI:

Your Body & You




Gonzoid Cinema




Trust me ... You don't wanna know what's cookin' on that grill.

Sights &
Brad Grinter,
Same Stink.
Smaller Package.

We open, fully clothed, in the studio of some nightly news broadcast, where the sports anchor, George Bowman (Brad Grinter), wraps up his segment, and then tosses it back to the news desk ... No longer live, when Bowman asks his cameraman, Steve Bradford (William Kerwin), how his new marriage is working out, Bradford says it's going great except for one little hang up: his wife, Lori (Suzanne Robinson), freezes up whenever they get naked, which kinda puts the kibosh on their sex life.

Thinking Lori must have had some kind of nudie-fueled traumatic experience when she was younger, the sportscaster decides he's also an amateur psychoanalyst; and his solution to his friend's problem is some shock therapy for the missus, and invites the couple to come and visit a nudist colony he belongs to. Bowman's logic is as follows: If Lori is the only one not naked, then she will be different, and uncomfortable because of it. And if she wants to fit in, she'll have to lose her inhibitions and go native. So this action will either cure Lori, or finally provide the psychotic break she needs and trigger a mass murderer...

I don't know where you all stand on the idea of nudity and pornography, but to me they are two very different things. You can use art to defend the former, but the later gets a little prickly. To illustrate, let's go back to my freshman year of college and a couple of anecdotes that will hopefully help to explain the difference. On one hand, I had some old high school buddies who dropped by the dorm a lot, one of whom was a professional porn-enthusiast. I will freely admit that I have no problems with the teasing, and titillating kind of porn, but hard-core does absolutely nothing for me. Watching two people doing the horizontal bop, to me, is the cinematic equivalent of watching paint dry. Does that make me a prude? Fine. Whatever. I'm not judging, whatever turns your crank, turns your crank, know what I mean (-- 'cuz we're not even gonna discuss my proclivities). Anyways, the porn enthusiast would always bring a sample of this genre, encased in a plain brown rental box, for what came to be known as Pizza-n-Porn night. This tradition only lasted for three excursions, though, because each time my buddy brought the same damn film. No! I don't mean they had similar plots and scenes. It was the EXACT. SAME. MOVIE.

This foul up was through no fault of his own. He'd rented the tapes on three separate occasions, in three different rental places, under three different titles; but each time it was the same dang film about a town's local Sex Club coming under fire by the repressed and frigid "Ice Queen" mayor, who planned to shut them down. To rectify this, they kidnap Her Honor, sit her on a vibrator, and then put on a sex-show to prove how vital the club is to the town's economy -- or something like that. After the show, forgive me, climaxes [...and the batteries run out], the club is saved and the mayor turns into their best client ... After unsuccessfully protesting the repeated viewings, and then sitting through this fine film -- for the third damn time in as many weeks, Pizza-n-Porn night died when I made some excuse about not being around for the next proposed get together (-- in fear that I'd see it for a fourth time under yet another, different title).

Our second anecdote begins when a certain art major had his first experience with a nude model. On the first day, I couldn't draw or sketch worth a poop. I admit it. I was distracted by her ... huge tracts of land, but by the fourth or fifth session, it was no big deal. Then, about halfway through the semester, I happened to be dining with my mother, who has very strong, and very negative opinions about our subjects being one in the same: both being pure evil. And it just so happened that our waitress that evening was the nude model at the college, who recognized me. Of course, Mom wanted to know how I knew her, and this comedic set-up led down a very rocky path and heated debate over our egg rolls, where I finally convinced her that there was, in fact, a difference, and not all nudity was bad. Pornography, however, was still the root of all things evil. Sorry. I tried.

Watching porn is almost a right of passage. Originally the staples of grindhouses and stag parties, these naughty pieces of cinema have been with us since the beginning. Today, hard-core is a high-profit industry. They're glossier now, with higher production values, and the full-body-tanned actors and actresses are silicone and surgically enhanced Barbie and Ken dolls. Old school titillating porn, like this screwed up nudist short, on the other hand, is a world of visible boom mikes, lost delivery boys, skanky soundtracks, and lots-n-lots of earth tones. They were populated by tan-lines, fish-white beer guts, and drooping *ahem* equipment. And I miss them dearly as one of the few who actually likes a little plot in his porn -- and the wonkier the plot the better, like, say, trying to save your marriage by taking your nudie-phobic wife to a nudist colony.

After getting assurances from Bowman that all the strange things he's heard about nudists camps aren't true, Bradford thinks it's a great idea and really gives Lori the hard sell as they get ready for bed. Lori, meanwhile, doesn't appear to be very stable to begin with as we zoom in on her head and hear the magic voices that lurk inside there (-- which leads me to believe this will end in a all-nude bloodbath). Wanting to save their marriage, when Lori reluctantly agrees to go, her husband thanks her by promptly passing out on top of her.

The following weekend, when the newlywed newbies arrive at the nudist colony, Steve has to drag Lori out of the car. Seems she's having second thoughts, but before the wife can bolt, Barrows and his partner -- both buck-ass naked, greet them, and judging by the way he poses, Barrows is very proud of his *ahem* microphone. As they show them around, we spy several naked campers of all shapes and sizes, playing all kinds of games, including golf, volleyball, badminton, and one very interesting game of Twister. (Right hand-blue. Left foot-red. Wedding Tackle-green).

After taking all that in, Steve and the completely overwhelmed Lori go to their bungalow, where Steve quickly and happily strips out of his clothes. But Lori balks, and I'm not sure if the POV shots of her looking around, that continually go in and out of focus, are supposed to represent the struggle in her mind over the nudity thing, or just some ineptness on the cameraman's part. Eventually, Lori discards her clothes but wraps herself up in a sheet when Barrows rounds them up to continue the tour over to the barbecue pits (-- and WATCH YOUR WIENERS, boys, that thing's hot!), where Lori's internal voices reach a crescendo, and we finally decipher what she's saying: "cooperate together."

As the day progresses, Lori's inhibitions slowly melt away and there's a brief self-realization that her mother was the root cause of her hang-ups, but that doesn't matter now because she's naked -- and there ain't a dang thing mom can do about it. With that, she kisses Steve, and they take a stroll by the lake, where Lori admits to finally being free, thanks to the power of nudity.

The End

Brad Grinter was a full time nudist and a part-time film teacher, who allegedly funneled money from his student's projects to make his own nudist camp films. He would later move on to crap-cinema infamy when he teamed up with Steven Hawkes -- a nudie-noir veteran himself, for the all time gonzoidal classic, Blood Freak. But before that, Grinter knocked around with the Kerwin brothers, William, Edward and Harry, who were all veterans of Florida's seedy film industry, most notably serving in some fashion or another in several of Hershell Gordon Lewis' earlier gore-soaked epics. Collaborating together, this fearsome foursome put their head together and dropped their drawers for Sweet Bird of Aquarius, from which this short is culled. In the extended version, not only does the nudist camp cure Lori of her hang-ups, it super-charges her libido, and soon enough, is taking all comers who will enter her bed. Turns out all those nudists were also partner-swapping swingers -- anybody else remember Barrows mentioning that in his sales pitch?

Brad Grinter: Nudist (1970) K & W Pictures Corporation / P: Wayne Crawford, William Kerwin, Earl Wainwright / D: Harry Kerwin / W: Edmund Kerwin, William Kerwin / C: Harry Kerwin / E: Lee Gilmore / M: Earl Wainwright / S: William Kerwin, Suzanne Robinson, Brad F. Grinter, Sherry Nealson
More ATOMIC Wedgies
(And other Soiled Shorts)

Originally Posted: 08/29/03 :: Rehashed: 11/25/09

Knuckled-out by Chad Plambeck: misspeller of words, butcher of all things grammatical, and king of the run on sentence. Copy and paste at your own legal risk. Questions? Comments? Shoot us an e-mail.
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