If Kurosawa had seen Four Times That Night, a mod–bod rip–off of Rashomon, what would he have said and how many times would he have said it? Getting to the heart of the matter, Four Times..., an amusingly tame sex farce, recounts in quadruplicate a tryst between debauched bachelor Brett Halsey and his quarry, the titillating Tina. Each version is more venereal than the next, veering from virginity defended to orgy offended. The joy here is not in the sex, which is limited to bared breasts, but in the camp curves and accoutrements of a seventies Pop scene: psychedelic wallpaper, go–go girls in cages, inflatable furniture. Bava may have had his way with the "truth," teasing the teller and the tail, but when you've got sultry swingers in front of paisley posters, who needs the truth?