Carmen, Baby, reputed successor to I, A Woman in the skin flick genre, aspires to higher things. It promises a story. A squeaky voice at the beginning warns that events will occur--perhaps even a death. And the hero--that's what you call the pugnosed, smalleyed scarecrow in a cop's uniform--knows what virtue is. At one time he patrolled a beat, reported on time, and protected prostitutes from armed prostitutes. But the hero's struggle against ungodly tendencies and the hint of a plot are a cover-up. The movie's a smorgasbord for voyeurs.

Carmen, Baby, doesn't copy Hollywood, where sex only takes place between pink sheets. Specialities include fellatio, anal intercourse, cunnilingus, troilism, and lesbianism--along with normal sexual intercourse.

But Radley Metzger, the director, isn't satisfied with catering to every pervert's taste. He plays with innocence. Carmen strolls joyously through the streets like the whore who does no wrong in Never on Sunday. The decor of her bedroom would please Ross Hunter.

More obnoxious than that coyness is the way Metzger calls on the arts to dress up smut. Carmen, to titillate a bunch of girdled ladies and hot men, performs a dance in which she and a long-stemmed wine bottle make love. Then when she and her policeman are in church--he's praying and she's seducing him--Metzger cuts from her to a picture of the Virgin Mary. From one idol to another.

The diologue, however, aspires to no higher level than sixth-grade graffiti. One example will do. Carmen and a rock singer-stud named Baby Lucas are drinking cocktails from baby bottles. She says, "Oh now I know why they call you Baby Lucas: you drink milk from a bottle." He says, "I'm even more of a baby than that."

The girl (Uta Levka) is ugly, and her boyfriend (well christened Claude Ringer) is a crashing bore.