The Forbidden

One man's poison is yet another man's meat.

These words, first written by an unknown 19th century poet,

ably reflect the mood of the film you are about to see.

You will indulge yourselves in a forbidden experience.

To the artist, a nude woman is but a tool of his trade,

but to the average businessman, a forbidden delicacy.

To the sexologist, pornography may be a study

of mankind, but to the novice,

a forbidden treasure of filth.

To the sexual deviant, rape may be a necessity,

while to the timid man,

a forbidden dream of concealed lust.

This is Los Angeles, California, a city

whose population explosion has caused

numerous unsolvable problems; smog, overcrowded freeways,

and a shocking increase in sex crimes to name only a few.

Newspapers constantly remind us of the pending dangers

that lurk in this gigantic metropolis.

No one is safe.

The lush female or escort, the grandmother,

even the infant fall prey

to unbalanced minds of sexual attackers.

Recently, however, an organization was formed

to take action against this growing menace.

They advertise their services in a most unusual manner.

You are now watching a motion picture

within a motion picture.

The footage you are now seeing was

actually produced some months ago

and was never intended for theatrical release.

It was obtained by our production unit

by somewhat devious means so that the world

could see what we feel to be one

of the sickest commercial advertising campaigns

ever perpetrated upon the American public.

It is not a nudie movie, nor is it a filmed commercial

for sexy, black-waist underwear.

It is in fact a commercial designed

to shock women into the reality that any unguarded female

is at all times subject to sexual attack.

Prior to our obtaining this footage for our film,

this picture was shown only to private women's clubs

in the Southern California area.

Due to the nudity displayed by these actresses,

men were forbidden to attend these performances.

Only in Los Angeles, the city Madison Avenue has tagged

as the wildest, most difficult market in the world,

only in Los Angeles would a business stoop

to advertise or literally exploit the rapist for money.

This film is actually a commercial

for a school for karate.

The message it brings to its female audiences

is to be prepared, and through a knowledge

of the deadly art of karate, a woman can defend herself

against even the boldest of sexual attackers.

This school is called the Nakamuri School

for Sexual Defense.

We interviewed the owner of the school,

Miss Naomi Nakamuri.

Miss Nakamuri, can you tell us a little

about the film we're now watching please.

It shows a rapist

who attacks these two young girls.

It was quite simply made and we meant to shock the audience

into the realization that no one, not even a woman

in her own home, can be safe from attack.

And do you really think

the film shocks the audience?

Yes.

Miss Nakamuri, was the nudity in this film,

in your opinion, absolutely necessary?

There is quite a bit of nudity, isn't there?

Yes, but the film is shown only to women,

and I think the nudity does provide a sense of realism.

Did you produce this film yourself?

Well, the film was produced

by an amateur producer at my instruction.

How much did the picture cost?

$7,000.

And do you feel that it has been successful?

Well, for years, my husband

and I had one karate school on Sunset Boulevard.

After he died, I decided to expand.

I changed the name of the school

to a School for Sexual Defense.

Automatically, business increased.

We then started showing this film to women's groups,

and an overwhelming number of the members

at each showing signed up for the school.

Now, we operate 14 of them in Southern California alone.

And I suppose all

the 14 are equally as successful.

Equally.

Thank you very much.

The raw naturalism

in which this film illustrates a sexual attack has

indeed shocked feminine audiences into a stunned awareness

of their helpless, unprotected, unprepared situation.

Although this film might appear amateurishly made,

it is one of the finest examples

of slickly subtle persuasion.

Its crude appearance has been calculated

to heighten its documentary effectiveness.

Its message is almost laughably simple.

A sexual deviant lurks in the dark

with his sweaty speculation,

waiting for only one unguarded moment.

If you are not prepared, this is what can happen.

The big pitch reaches the audience

after the gruesome climax with these words.

These women were lucky.

They did not have to be prepared

to ward off this sexual attacker.

It was only a dream, or was it?

This is Naomi Nakamuri, the 24-year-old president

of the self defense chain.

With her is Brenda Farragut, the young wife

of one of Hollywood's most powerful film magnates.

Brenda is here for her private lesson with Naomi,

for which she pays $50 for one hour's tutorage.

Naomi weighs only 97 pounds, and Brenda is a slim 112.

These two girls represent the essence of femininity,

and yet Naomi and her star pupil are capable

of killing a man 73 different ways.

These are two of Naomi's more than 40 male instructors

which she personally tutors.

All of them are young.

All are handsome, and quite

by coincidence, all are unmarried.

Their hands are considered lethal weapons,

and if these women were to themselves attack someone,

they would be prosecuted as if they had fired a loaded gun.

Her pupils learn through real-life situations

involving simulated sexual attacks.

It is hoped that the only time any

of these students will be molested will be in the classroom,

but if that is not to be the case, they will be ready.

You are about to witness one of the most bizarre examples

of a parasite you will ever see.

This club is one of a new breed

of sensual relaxation spas specifically geared

for our Space Age.

It is a portable topless bar designed to be broken down

within moments so that it may be moved from place to place.

Tagged as a floating club, its portability is necessary

because of its clientele.

They are the men and women who work

on the new space projects and building sites located

in the far-off, desolate regions of the United States.

At this moment, the floating bar is located

on the fringe of a desert

in the southwestern part of America.

Except for this construction site, there is nothing

but sand and rugged mountains in any direction

for the next 100 miles.

The road project is deserted now.

The work has been finished for the day.

The machinery sits idle.

Less than two miles away, the workers now sit jammed

into the tiny floating club.

The idea for the floating bar is the brainchild

of 32-year-old George Rodman of San Antonio, Texas.

For years, the burly Westerner had worked

on crews like this, separated from family and civilization.

During that time, because of the loneliness he felt,

he gave birth to the floating club.

If the men could not come to the entertainment,

then George Rodman would bring the entertainment to them.

The idea was a smashing success,

and before the first year was out,

George Rodman had four clubs working the year round

and was grossing over $200,000 annually.

Their entourage is small, usually consisting

of two or three Lolita-like Watusi dancers,

a scrawny combo, and several haggard,

overworked people who toil behind the makeshift bar

or over the relentlessly whirling glass-washing machine.

This is a fast volume,

give it to them simple, type of business.

There is no pretension to subtlety here,

no seductive lighting, no soft-spoken waiters,

no violins, only beer, tired people, and raw whiskey.

George relentlessly moves his clubs

from state to state in an area

where local authority is flexible or he is able

to buy off the local police force.

His dancers perform completely in the nude.

In other states where the laws are more stringent,

they appear topless.

In still other parts, such as the Southwest,

where this club is now located, the local authority is

so strong that the girls must appear fully clothed.

The clubs breeze in on the wind,

snatching business while it's hot.

Then, as the crowds begin to dwindle,

they pack their trailers and roll up their tents,

and like the shifting sand, disappear without a trace.

But trailing close behind

at a safe distance are the prostitutes and muggers

who leech a perverted dollar from George Rodman's clubs.