Amongst the many sex films given roadshow release back in the day, NUDIST LIFE offers little of interest. The quaintness of what used to circulate as porn in olden times (sorry, I shouldn't be so facetious) is a bit sad.
Early reels are basically of the National Geographic persuasion -bare tits on native girls were OK to show on the big screen. But soon the film shifts gear to Florida locations where gals swim in formation and the pulchritude is no more than you'd see on an afternoon at Coney Island.
To justify the admission charge, the scene moves to Fairview Gardens Nudist Camp. The gimmick is that busty figure models are mixed in with possibly real denizens of the sun- addiction persuasion, and lonely adult movie house patrons were treated to the sight of plenty of nipples. Even a fleeting glance at pubic hair by accident is included - b.f.d.
Film ends with the strains of "Dance of the Hours" from the opera La Gioconda playing, an interesting coincidence since that music was immortalized just a couple of years later by Alan Sherman with his ode to a different type of summery camp: "Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah".
Early reels are basically of the National Geographic persuasion -bare tits on native girls were OK to show on the big screen. But soon the film shifts gear to Florida locations where gals swim in formation and the pulchritude is no more than you'd see on an afternoon at Coney Island.
To justify the admission charge, the scene moves to Fairview Gardens Nudist Camp. The gimmick is that busty figure models are mixed in with possibly real denizens of the sun- addiction persuasion, and lonely adult movie house patrons were treated to the sight of plenty of nipples. Even a fleeting glance at pubic hair by accident is included - b.f.d.
Film ends with the strains of "Dance of the Hours" from the opera La Gioconda playing, an interesting coincidence since that music was immortalized just a couple of years later by Alan Sherman with his ode to a different type of summery camp: "Hello Muddah, Hello Faddah".
