Casanova 73
True to form I have got distracted from The Omega Factor before I got to the end of its episodes. And I've been distracted by Casanova 73. I like a nice seventies sex comedy me, so it rather looks as if the subject of sexiness has come up again on this blog. Pish. Tush. Can't be a result of my mind at all. In all seriousness, though, without looking at the sex comedies, it's a bit difficult to get what the seventies were like at all. I read somewhere that one of the Confessions films was the highest-grossing film of 1974, which very much shows what the age was about. Elsewhere on this blog I have touched on the parapsychology of the 1970s, and in my series of posts on 1970s TV shows I have touched on the sheer dreariness of the 1970s. I have a feeling it was the sexiness which made the age liveable for most people. I say sexiness, rather than actual sex, because much of the point of Casanova 73 is the way Henry Newhouse lives in a way which is respectable. I have a fee...