If Young Lady Chatterley II were a car, it would be a powder-blue Pinto stuck in neutral, sputtering out moans and bad English accents while the radio plays lite jazz porn music on loop. This is not so much a film as it is a long, slow, Vaseline-smeared fever dream about women in corsets pretending to read poetry before getting naked in increasingly stupid ways.
Released in 1985, this softcore sequel nobody needed attempts to follow up the already-flimsy 1977 film Young Lady Chatterley, itself a sexed-up spin on D.H. Lawrence’s classic novel Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Only here, all resemblance to literature is gone—except for the part where a character might accidentally trip over a paperback during a poorly lit sex scene.
Plot? That’s Generous.
Young Lady Chatterley (played by Harlee McBride, reprising her role and clinging to it like it’s a career life preserver) returns to her inherited estate, still plagued with the problem of being too horny for the countryside. She’s married now, but who cares? Certainly not her, or the script. Her husband is either away, asleep, or just forgotten in the edit—so she turns her attention to the hunky gardener. Again.
Yes, it’s the exact same plot as the first movie, just with worse lighting, fewer flowers, and dialogue that feels like it was written during a phone sex shift change.
Harlee McBride: The Moan That Roared
You have to feel a little bad for Harlee McBride. She’s trying. She really is. She brings a sort of wide-eyed innocence to the role, as if someone told her she was starring in a period drama instead of a Cinemax time filler. But she’s stuck in a loop: walk into room, remove gown, simulate ecstasy on a bearskin rug, exit frame.
She moans like someone trying to remember their WiFi password. Passionless, confused, and slightly annoyed. At one point she tries to seduce someone with poetry—except it sounds more like she’s reading cue cards off a parked van.
The Supporting Cast: Hams and Hard-ons
The men in this movie—gardener, chauffeur, random visitor—are all built like 1980s soap opera villains and act like they were lobotomized by lust. Their dialogue is pure gold, if your idea of gold is “Would madam care for a tour of the greenhouse?” followed by immediate disrobing.
Every male character acts like they’ve been hypnotized by cleavage. Which, to be fair, is about the only thing this movie gets right—there’s no shortage of soft-focus breasts, always bouncing, usually in slow motion, sometimes in the rain for no reason whatsoever.
Set Design: Victorian Bordello with Budget Cuts
The sets are vaguely period-ish. There’s lots of lace, doilies, and furniture that looks like it was borrowed from your great aunt’s “for company only” living room. But don’t worry, no one actually uses the furniture for sitting. It’s all just staging for sex scenes that seem to be directed with the enthusiasm of a DMV instructional video.
The “English countryside” is clearly Southern California, complete with palm trees in the background if you squint hard enough.
Sex Scenes: Like Watching Two Taxidermied Deer Collide
Let’s be honest. This movie isn’t about plot. Or acting. It’s about getting down. Except… it doesn’t. The sex scenes are softcore, sure, but they’re also soft in every other way—emotionally, dramatically, and cinematically.
Each encounter feels like it was choreographed by someone who’s never seen an actual orgasm but has seen someone stub their toe and try to make it sexy. There’s excessive groaning, inexplicable licking, and people touching each other like they’re not sure if they’re supposed to massage or wring out a wet towel.
The Music: Synth Porn Funk Meets Sad Elevator
Every scene is scored like a lost Miami Vice B-roll. Slippery synth lines slither under every moan and creaky bed frame. The music gets louder as the acting gets worse—as if trying to distract you from what’s happening on screen.
You could sync this soundtrack to a late-night infomercial for adult diapers and it’d still feel right.
Final Thoughts: This Chatterley Should’ve Stayed Silent
Young Lady Chatterley II is the kind of movie you stumble across at 2 a.m. and watch for five minutes before realizing you’re not sure if it’s porn, parody, or an endurance test. It has no reason to exist beyond giving VHS rentals a new title to stock in the “Adults Only” section.
There’s no passion, no heat, and absolutely no plot. Just a series of increasingly awkward encounters, endless moaning, and some poor lighting technician who definitely needed a raise.
Rating: 2 out of 10 Simulated Sighs
Watch it only if your VCR is haunted and this is the only tape it plays.