To folks who regularly follow my Letterboxd for any kind of meaningful media perspectives; sorry, I’m prone to getting caught in a rut. The current rut? Hyapatia Lee films directed by Paul Thomas. Both originally were “theater kids” in college and worked in musical theater before moving to the adult film industry their instincts together, when they’re cooking, feel like good theater. The Masseuse would make a hell of a good two hander with only minimal retooling. (Silly pun about “two hander” aside.)

I also know their relationship was ultimately tumultuous. Thomas is why Lee left adult despite making 17 pictures with him directing. They made more early on acting together and by her account they would break out into Gilbert and Sullivan on the set together. 

Both saw pornography as more than just a conveyor belt for serving carnality. Interviews with both indicated an interest in theme, story and character and Lee was outspoken about the sex reflecting the characters. 

So I guess knowing all this I knew it was a matter of time before I hit one of their collaborations that I would be over the moon for. I don’t just like The Landlady. I love The Landlady. 

Tom Byron plays, Adam, a college student who has just started renting a room from Lili. Lili is mysterious and beautiful and the film starts to fill in a way that is entirely unexpected. The movie is filled with sounds of howling wind outside, scenes are full of sounds creaky floorboards, the house’s central staircase is shot to look as if it goes on forever and rooms are rotten with billowing curtains and flickering candelabras. Lili can be seen, clad in black, menacing in a doorway, waiting and watching during sex scenes that don’t involve her. Yup, this early 90s porn has gothic horror deep in its bones. 

Early on Lili invokes the 17th century erotic Chinese novel The Carnal Prayer Mat and later a stammering Mike Horner references La Belle Dame sans Merci by Keats to describe Lili’s power over Adam. Lee’s character name is Aranya, phonetically pronounced as araña, and Lee references Mary Howitt’s The Spider and The Fly more than once. This is femme fatale as gothic horror.

Though not directly referenced for obvious reasons this feels as if it could easily be an adaptation of Roald Dahl’s short story, The Landlady, which featured an attractive middle aged woman who poisoned her male college student tenants with cyanide after flattering them.

Lee makes a meal of her role, recognizing the need to balance being a figure of obviously relatable desire and easily understood danger. The audience needs to understand why men are in her thrall, why they disregard their own safety. Generally the femme fatale archetype is more often found in neonoir in modern media so it’s a treat to see it here in a gothic setting. Also, generally in both erotic thrillers and dramas gothic tales are usually reserved for female protagonists. 

Lee is ravishing, sophisticated and dangerous. One metatextual layer I enjoy is that this film firmly believes the audience will understand all of its Easter Eggs about classic Chinese novels and gothic British poems and short stories. So there is this winking danger that now exists. “If Lili started hurling these references at me I’d pick up on it. I could get out safely.” It’s a story that embraces the hubris of the audience believing it is smarter than the protagonist. 

Friends, I’m old and tired enough to know that I would end up at the bottom of Hyapatia Lee’s endless staircase in her locked basement. Gleefully recommended.